148 



Sierra Club Bulletin 



with attention and often with delight. Like most men who 

 have spent much of their Uves in the mountains, he was an in- 

 dependent thinker and had well-digested opinions on a surpris- 

 ingly large number of topics. He was argumentative by nature, 

 and his Scotch blood showed in the persistence and tenacity 

 with which he upheld his point of view. On the other hand, he 

 was rarely aggressive or disagreeable. In fact, he was one of 

 the most charming companions I have ever known. In addition 

 to a kindly and generous nature, he possessed a keen sense of 

 humor and was something of a tease. When walking the deck 

 of the steamer on the Harriman Alaska Expedition, his most 

 constant companion was the eminent geographer, the late Henry 

 Gannett. Speaking of their friendship, he explained that when 

 he first saw Gannett he was impressed by what he called the 

 "preternatural solemnity" of his expression. This, he asserted, 

 with a merry look in his eye, had convinced him that Gannett, 

 like himself, was fond of humor, and he was not long in learning 

 that Gannett, though not a Scotchman, also loved an argument. 

 The result was that the two were always happy together. 



Muir abhorred politics, and once, when speaking of a man 

 whom he regarded as having fallen from grace, remarked, "This 

 playing at politics saps the very foundations of righteousness." 



As a woodsman he was peculiar, combining an unusual 

 knowledge of forest and mountain with a remarkably slender 

 fund of what is commonly called woodcraft. For, in spite of 

 his having spent a large part of his life in the wilderness, he 

 knew less about camping than almost any man I have ever 

 camped with. He could choose a sheltered spot for the night, 

 was an adept in building a small fire in a safe place, and could 

 make an excellent cup of coffee in his tin cup. But of the art 

 and conveniences of camping as ordinarily understood he was 

 as innocent as a child. His earlier trips in the mountains had 

 been made afoot. He had carried no bed or blanket, and in the 

 way of food only bread and tea, so that his main concern was 

 in finding a protected place, usually a hollow beside a log, where 

 he could spend the night with a minimum of discomfort from 

 the cold. The heat of a small fire, requiring frequent replenish- 

 ment, served instead of the usual sleeping-bag or blankets. 



In after years his visits to the mountains were made with 



