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Hidden away in foggy, uncharted rain forest valleys in Northern California are the tallest organisms the world has ever sustained--the coast redwood trees. 96% of the ancient redwood forests have been logged, but the fragments that remain are among the great wonders of nature. The biggest redwoods can rise more than thirty-five stories above the ground, forming cathedral-like structures in the air. Until recently, the canopy at the tops of these majestic trees was undiscovered. Writer Preston unfolds the story of the daring botanists and amateur naturalists that found a lost world above California, dangerous, hauntingly beautiful, and unexplored. The deep redwood canopy is a vertical Eden filled with mosses, lichens, spotted salamanders, hanging gardens of ferns, and thickets of huckleberry bushes, all growing out of massive trunk systems, sometimes hollowed out by fire. Thick layers of soil sitting on limbs harbor animal and plant life unknown to science.--From publisher description.… (more)
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After a couple of months, I was able to try the second largest tree on the property. It was probably a catalpa, judging by the cigar-shaped pods that grew on it. It was quite a bit larger than the other three, and its bark would shed onto the clothes of anyone who would climb it. Because the first branches were much higher than I could reach, I had to shinny up the trunk abut ten feet to find a comfortable resting place, by which time my clothes would be filthy from the bark. Once I reached the first branch, however, it was a fairly easy climb to other sturdy branches about 50 feet in the air, a point that was well above any of the surrounding roof tops. Since the terrain in Chicago is as flat as a pancake, it seemed that I could see forever from my perch.
The fifth tree was a huge old oak whose trunk was simply too wide for my eight year old arms to circumscribe, and so I was never able to climb that tree.
Having been defeated in my efforts to climb a mature oak that might have been 80 feet tall, imagine how impressed I was to learn that a small group of intrepid climbers had learned to scale 360 foot California redwoods and Douglas firs to the very top. Richard Preston’s Wild Trees is the story of a quirky collection of botanists, arborists, and amateur tree climbers who embarked on a quest to discover and climb the tallest trees in the world. The term and title of the book, wild tree, refers to a previously unclimbed tree.
The heroes and heroine of the story are all archetypical “granola” types one finds in rural California and Oregon. Except for the author, the people in the book appear to be more interested in trees than in other people. In fact, I too found myself more interested in learning about the trees and the techniques of climbing them than about the interactions of the human characters.
The trees themselves, however, are thoroughly interesting. They are the largest living things on earth. Well, maybe their cousins, the sequoias, are a bit more massive, but the redwoods are taller. They are also the oldest living things. Some may have been saplings when Plato was lecturing in the Academy.
Determining which tree is actually the tallest turns out to be easier said than done. One reason is that logging companies cut down the tallest trees in accessible areas. The tallest remaining trees are in truly inaccessible areas where there are no roads and which require long bushwhacking hikes to reach. Another problem is that the tops are usually not visible to anyone standing near them—you have to be quite a distance away to see which tree rises above its neighbors.
The redwoods have a remarkable structure. The tallest ones have no significant branches (i.e., sturdy enough to hold a climber) below 100+ feet above the ground. But once you reach those branches, many of them are larger than mature oak trees. Redwoods often form multiple trunks at great heights. In fact, full grown trees of different species have been found sprouting from redwood trunks high above the ground. Those large branches or other trees can be extremely dangerous because they sometimes fall or are broken off by lightening. Think of the impact an 80+ foot long, multi-ton branch makes when it hits the ground after falling 150 or 200 feet!
Redwoods are remarkably resistant to fire. Even when they burn, their remains provide very fertile space for new growth.
The first climbers into the canopy (the collection of high branches) found a previously undiscovered mini ecosystem of its own. It is home to many forms of lichen and smaller plants as well as some species of animals found nowhere else. The climbers encountered flying squirrels that had no fear of humans, never having encountered them. The canopies can be so thick and maze-like that the climbers occasionally had difficulty finding one another when they were in the same tree at about the same elevation. Old trees usually have substantial amounts of dead matter and often have large hollow spaces, which add to the perils faced by climbers.
The climbers had to develop new techniques and new equipment for their activities. They learned to shoot an arrow tied to a climbing rope over a large stable branch in order to obtain purchase for the climb. Other techniques are difficult to describe — I had trouble envisioning several procedures and tactics the author used. In fact, the author himself referred the reader to several Youtube posts where the methods were demonstrated.
This book opened up an exotic and fascinating world I didn’t even know existed. If I were much younger, I’d be tempted try my luck in the trees.
Rating: 4.5/5 for description of the trees and climbing technique and equipment.
2/5 for the interpersonal interactions of the characters.
(JAB)
Also, apart from the clichéed romanticizing of the geeks and their relationships (the, presumably fictionalized, conversations between them sound like a cheap novel rather than reporting) Preston has an irritating habit of defining something and then repeating it in sentence, which is annoyingly jerky as well as patronizing. E.g. "when a climber falls on a belay rope, it's called a 'whipper'. Steve took a huge whipper from the top of a tree." This sounds like a grade-school reading primer! A better writer (and editor) would say something like "Steve had taken a huge whipper of a fall from the top of a tree before the belay rope caught him."
The memorable article in the New Yorker which was an excerpt of this book was tighter and MUCH better. This book makes one long for John McPhee's elegant and erudite prose.
PS I listened to the audio version of this book, and the wooden, unrhythmic reader certainly did it no favors, though I think he must have been somewhat hampered by Preston's prose. I eventually had to switch to the book, which, being more skimmable, was bearable.
Preston accounts both his initial curiosity and how his quest was launched, as well as his adventures up to the top of these great trees in vivid detail. Not only does he paint wonderful word pictures, he educates and advocates for these increasingly rare living giants. There is adventure, science, environmental advocacy, powerful story-telling, and even intrigue all right within the pages of this excellent book. Highly recommended!
Even if I had been interested in the personal lives of the people who first learned to climb trees, I would have found this book annoying. There is basically no organizational structure. There are several main characters, and Preston skips back and forth between their stories, presumably in an attempt to create suspense, but all it does is create confusion. He also jumps around chronologically, which makes things even more confusing.
The subject matter -- exploring the redwood forests of northwestern California to find the biggest and tallest trees, then
The only flaw here is Preston's occasional inability to balance the details of the characters' personal lives with their exploration of the trees -- there was just a bit more of the former than I'd have liked.
Never the less, a fascinating look at an almost unknown world. Recommended.
That being said, I learned a lot. Not only that there is a specialized technique to climbing really big trees complete with its own rules and equipment. There are also people who dedicate their lives to finding the largest tree they can find. Apparently this is not as easy as walking in the woods. Redwood forests are almost impenetrable with brush and treefall and it’s a lot of work to find these mega-groves. But the rewards sound so spectacular. I was enchanted with the descriptions of being in the canopy. It’s a highly intricate, interconnected world of many species adapting to the unique structure of the life of trees. It sounded wondrous and magical and a bit scary. Scary also that they are disappearing. Heartbreaking actually. I’ve always been a sucker for trees. I learned a lot and realize that others love them, too.
I was not so enchanted by the character of Steve Sillett. He sounds like an egotistical jerk with very little understanding of how the real world works and a callous disregard for people. Practically he seems helpless and destitute of common sense. Tree-wise he’s brilliant and luckily he’s discovered a way to make it pay. Otherwise I can easily see him as a disillusioned college professor grinding out his existence in some backwater school, desperately looking for publication and affirmation. A right smug little prick.
Overall, Preston does a pretty good job of description and characterization. The scene portraying a climber’s plummet to the earth from about 80 feet up was very visceral. He could use some organizational help and also needs to shy away from some of the more sensational language he uses. He strays into tabloid a bit too easily.
I
I would highly recommend this to anyone interested in conservation, in botany, in forests, or just in unusual settings. Or anyone who likes rogue scientists, which I think most of these guys would qualify as.
I know
Preston focuses less on the wonder of the redwoods, however, than on the adventure of climbing up and into the tallest trees on earth. The uniqueness and timelessness of the redwood ecosystem is lost in the emotional and technical thrill of climbing into (and occasionally falling out of) the 360-foot canopy.
Many of us who live and work in the redwood forests know instinctively that this book will encourage others to attempt dangerous climbs into the delicate, untouched world that Sillett and cohorts, through Preston, have unveiled. Others will follow - guerilla climbing is part of the game, Preston reveals - and find their way into the highest branches of these ancient trees seeking only the recreational thrill of great height and athletic accomplishment. Worse still, is the thought of finding their broken bodies lying the bottom of these forever-living giants. This possibility, once generally unconsidered, feels greater now than it did several weeks ago before this book was on the shelves.
Read this book, anyway. It is well-written and Preston carries you along for the adventure. Preston's story is engaging, as are his main characters. Though I know some of the story behind the scenes, I was still compelled by his prose to read through to its conclusion. In the end, however, it's unfortunate that the mighty redwoods are a mere backdrop for those daring and curious enough to climb their awesome heights, rather than the centerpiece of this story.
Preston climbs trees. Using his own experience, he meets, follows, documents and finally participates with some of the most experienced tall tree climbers in the country. We know their fear, bravery, dedication, and knowledge. We
The book is subtitled: A Story of Passion and Daring and that is the best description. It reminds me of Krakauer’s book Into the Wild in that Preston describes young men who are brilliant and singular in pursuing their chosen field of study (tree botany), but awkward and distant from most
Steve Sillett and Michael Taylor begin their studies completely independent of one another, but share the wonder and awe for the magnificent California redwoods and a determination to discover the world’s tallest tree. Along the way they discover entire ecosystems and new realms in biodiversity. Known among their peers in the field, they nevertheless shun the spotlight and are obsessively protective of the hidden groves where these giants live. That Preston gained their trust and wrote so eloquently about their quest (without revealing the details of the locations of these trees) is a testament to his skill and character as a journalist and writer.
He writes a nonfiction account that is fascinating and compelling. There were a few parts that dragged – mostly when Preston got involved in the story and outlined his own attempts (and that of his family) to learn tree-climbing techniques. Still, while I didn’t think this was as good as his earlier works (The Hot Zone and Demon in the Freezer), I was entertained and interested from beginning to end.