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Show 487. . . . up the South Fork of the King's River through the sequoia groves, into the great canon, and thence across the divide and down the Middle Fork Canon to Tehipitee; thence through the valley and down the canon to the confluence of the Middle and South Forks, and up to the sequoia groves to the point of beginning. This kind of major highway would be necessary, he thought, because the terrain was so intimidating to an ordinary tourist. Muir was willing to make this kind of concession if it was necessary for the creation of a National Park. He looked hopefully upon the roads inevitably built by miners in Alaska, which would "lead many a lover of wildness into the heart of the reserve, who without them would never see it." And even while he bewailed the destruction which followed in the wake of railroads, even while he suggested that they resembled the work of the Devil, he could use their presence as a pretext for arguing that the Grand Canyon ought to be a National Park. But it was another thing to condone the building of roads as an ongoing program of improvement in Parks. He finally argued that "in the presence of such stupendous scenery [trains] are nothing." He compared them to beetles and caterpillars, using language which he repeated when considering, in 1912, the impact automobiles were likely to have if they were admitted to Yosemite Valley. Obviously he was not as enthusiastic about trains and autos as Stephen Mather would be. Yet Muir's deprecating language only depicted the technological modes of travel in banal terms and revealed a grudging willingness to |
