Written accounts of solitary wilderness living show up every once in a while, and seem to have become especially popular after the Baby Boomers "discovered" Thoreau in the 1960s.His words still inspire a few folks to chuck their lives of quiet desperation and head for the hills to get away from it all.Some are successful, some are not.Many stay there only a year or two before the most pressing need -- the financial one -- forces them to return to civilization.That's not the case with Thomas Rain Crowe, who spent four years (1978-1982) living alone in a cabin in the Smoky Mountains of western North Carolina.Crowe went back to his home state after living in a variety of places, doing a variety of work, communing with a variety of people.When given the opportunity to be the cabin tenant, he made the most of it.He worked hard to be self-sufficient, growing his own food and tending to his home and his tools.Others might have been bored in such a setting, but not him.He was always busy: gardening, fishing, taking care of his beehives, making homebrew, digging his root cellar, taking notes on the experience.And he regained the use of one his most valuable resources, the Southern Mountain speech of his childhood.He was downright satisfied with the situation.
His mentors in this effort were several local men who offered advice from time to time:Zoro Guice appeared in Yoda-like fashion whenever Crowe needed to learn how to perform a certain task.Walt Johnson was the scamp of the neighborhood, but was also an accomplished dowser who could find water every time.From these and other natives Crowe learned how to live close to the land, to live in the time of the seasons.The reader senses that Crowe would be living there still, if civilization hadn't encroached upon the property and changed it forever.That's when he knew he had to leave.
Not just a doer, Crowe is also a viewer -- a writer, a poet, a spiritual man who feels a strong connection to the natural world.His poetry uses simple words and turns of phrase to evoke powerful images.On the other hand, his prose, the narrative of his story, is the work of a learned and literate man.Complex constructs entice the reader to keep on going, to chew on the concepts and experiences offered.It takes time to digest these lines, and it's time well spent.Having witnessed Thomas Rain Crowe read some of this book aloud in person, I have the benefit of having heard the hint of the Smokies in his voice, the love for the place evident in every well-spoken syllable.No matter; it comes through in the typewritten text as well.
So was Thomas Wolfe right or wrong?Can you or can't you go home again?The reader decides.In the meantime, "Zoro's Field" should be placed on a shelf with the works of the old and new naturalists (Thoreau, Burroughs, Leopold, Carson, Eiseley, Bass) to one side, and the "Foxfire" books to the other.A thought-provoking addition to the environmental canon.
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