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The Thoreau Institute
at Walden Woods Library
About Thoreau's Life and Writings
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including Thoreau's contemporaries, his readings, current
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Walter Harding
(1917-1996)
A Bee-Line With
Thoreau
Ask any seasoned saunterer what the
caviare of hiking is and he will answer as quickly as the proverbial
Jack Robinson, "A bee-line hike". Bee-lining carries off all the
prizes whether it is for thrill-finding or seeing the sights of
nature. Bee-line hikes take one where he has never been before. It
reveals undiscovered countries in one's own backyard.
The bee-line hike is a simple idea. It requires only one
article of equipment other that fortitude and a bit of ingenuity- a
good dependable compass. Simple pick your destination, find its
direction on your compass either through sighting or on the map, and
then set off as the bee goes, not flying but it a perfectly straight
line, letting no obstacles stand in the way, over hill and dale,
through forest and field, on river and mountain.
Of all the bee-line hikers of history, none was more
ardent than that saunterer of saunterers, Henry David Thoreau, the
sage of Walden Pond. A confirmed hiker, he considered no day
worthwhile unless he spent four or five hours of it in the open.
And of all hikes, the bee-line was his favorite, his creme de la
creme, as anyone will realize upon perusing his voluminous
Journals.
Mount Monadnock in south-western New Hampshire was a
lode-star to Henry Thoreau. All mountains attracted him and he
looked on them as a sort of earthly Elysium. He could well
understand why both Greeks and the Indians placed their gods upon
mountain-tops. But of all mountains he knew, lonely and lovely
Monadnock was second to none. He climbed it again and again, using
the bee-line to take him off the well-traveled paths into
little-known nooks and crannies of the mountain. Getting off the
train some distance from the base, he would set his compass for the
peak and set off. Farmers stared when he cut across their pastures
instead of following the roads. But Thoreau could well look down
his long nose at them for he discovered the beauty in their
backyards when they were too blind to see it.
Bee-lining was just as rewarding in the White Mountains
too. His young Concord neighbor, Edward Hoar and he, took a tour of
the American Switzerland in 1858. The climbed mountain after
mountain including them king of the all, Washington. Their guide
(Thoreau rarely resorted to a guide except in the wilds of Maine; it
is probable that young Edward insisted upon it this time) was
skeptical about climbing the mountain that particular day and when
they reached the top his worst fears were confirmed- mist had
settled in so thickly that Henry could barely see the end of his
nose. The guide balked in good mountain-mule fashion and refused to
budge. But Henry was adamant. He had promised to meet his old
Worcester friend H.G.O. Blake in Tuckerman Ravine, come mist or snow
and no back-country woodsman's stubbornness was going to stop him,
nor did it. He had been clever enough to sight the direction before
the fog settled in and so with compass in hand he set off into the
murk with young Edward and the amazed and disgruntled guide
following along in tow. The hotelkeeper on the mountain top swore
it couldn't be done, but Thoreau did it. He led them to precisely
the spot they wanted and sat down to await Mr. Blake who not long
after appeared on the horizon.
There is another bee-line legend about Thoreau. It may
be a bit apocryphal, but one would not put it far beyond the doughty
Henry. He and Ellery Channing, the boon companion of his hikes both
in and out of Concord, were off on a bee-line hike when they
perceived a large farmhouse exactly in their path. But that didn't
phase Henry in the least. The front door of the farmhouse was open,
and so was the back door, and there was a long connecting hallway
straight through the house. So in the front door they walked, and
out the back. leaving the unknown farmer and his family in
flabbergasted amazement.
Do you like the idea of adventure? Then get your
compass, unroll your map, and start out on a beeline in the wake of
Henry Thoreau. But pray loudly before you leave that there is
neither a bull-pen nor a mire on your bee-line. Avast, my lads,
says Henry, set out with compass, keep your eyes open, and you'll
see new marvels of nature.
A
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