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3.5 AVERAGE
3.5 AVERAGE
deepwinterodd's review against another edition
3.0
This is such an interesting look at living decisively and in ways that have come to be under-valued in terms of skill and know-how. It's also a meditation on how much the author wants to meet girls.
Where the two rub up against each other is jarring, yes. But the primary narrative -- about living close to the land and developing skills based on that land, as opposed to office or technology skills -- is valid and fascinating. The other's just a personal problem.
Schimmoeller was raised in a log cabin on 15 acres in rural Kentucky, where his parents chose a low-impact, high-fidelity lifestyle that eschewed electricity and running water, but prioritized reading woods, reading books, growing your own food, bathing outside, writing in the family forest journal, and building other log cabins.
That lifestyle sounds idyllic, but in 1992, in his mid-twenties, Schimmoeller, still living at home, worries that he has nor wants to have, any marketable career skills, or a career. And he decides to solve his worrying about this fact by riding his beloved unicycle somewhat across the country.
With a brief detour to New York City, where he quickly freaks out at a magazine internship, Schimmoeller sets off from North Carolina. And he just...unicycles.
Realizing early on that the unicycle is both inefficient and mildly ridiculous as a form of transportation, Schimmoeller focuses on it as a mode of traveling, and takes stock of his life as he figures it all out (and looks for a girlfriend en route).
Schimmoeller is very convincing in terms of how he makes peace with his skillset, the core of which is actually really impressive; log cabin-building, solar cooking, and tree identification are all unfairly maligned as less useful than, say, operating a phone switchboard (again, it's 1992), and writing the kind of software that leads to Facebook. (I THINK WE ARE ALL SEEING HOW WELL THAT TURNED OUT.)
Travel by unicycle turns out to involve a lot of walking, and looping back around, and a lot of money sent from home. It does not, Schimmoeller takes pains to remind us, involve beautiful women, which are the kind he obsesses about all along his route.
Speaking of which, I was deeply struck by how Schimmoeller and Josie Dew, in [b:Travels in a Strange State|2868492|Travels in a Strange State|Josie Dew|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1267332650l/2868492._SY75_.jpg|2894647] both cycled across the US in 1992, and yet at no time does anyone tell Schimmoeller about how someone was just raped and killed down the road a stretch. No one asks him if he's worried about it happening to him. No one pulls over and wanks at him. And Schimmoeller himself never brings up any concern for his physical safety based on the actions of men nearby. FUNNY THAT.
Anyway, it's a good book.
It makes a strong case for valuing traditional skills based in sustainability and the natural world. It also makes a strong oblique case for the postal service, as Schimmoeller's in close contact with his family through the magic of general delivery, and thrifty enough to send bald unicycle tires home.
Schimmoeller's a gentle soul, accepting of discomfort and weather extremes, and quietly reflective along the way.
And he does, eventually (although not for like another five years after his unicycle tour) get a girlfriend and a log cabin of his own.
Where the two rub up against each other is jarring, yes. But the primary narrative -- about living close to the land and developing skills based on that land, as opposed to office or technology skills -- is valid and fascinating. The other's just a personal problem.
Schimmoeller was raised in a log cabin on 15 acres in rural Kentucky, where his parents chose a low-impact, high-fidelity lifestyle that eschewed electricity and running water, but prioritized reading woods, reading books, growing your own food, bathing outside, writing in the family forest journal, and building other log cabins.
That lifestyle sounds idyllic, but in 1992, in his mid-twenties, Schimmoeller, still living at home, worries that he has nor wants to have, any marketable career skills, or a career. And he decides to solve his worrying about this fact by riding his beloved unicycle somewhat across the country.
With a brief detour to New York City, where he quickly freaks out at a magazine internship, Schimmoeller sets off from North Carolina. And he just...unicycles.
Realizing early on that the unicycle is both inefficient and mildly ridiculous as a form of transportation, Schimmoeller focuses on it as a mode of traveling, and takes stock of his life as he figures it all out (and looks for a girlfriend en route).
Schimmoeller is very convincing in terms of how he makes peace with his skillset, the core of which is actually really impressive; log cabin-building, solar cooking, and tree identification are all unfairly maligned as less useful than, say, operating a phone switchboard (again, it's 1992), and writing the kind of software that leads to Facebook. (I THINK WE ARE ALL SEEING HOW WELL THAT TURNED OUT.)
Travel by unicycle turns out to involve a lot of walking, and looping back around, and a lot of money sent from home. It does not, Schimmoeller takes pains to remind us, involve beautiful women, which are the kind he obsesses about all along his route.
Speaking of which, I was deeply struck by how Schimmoeller and Josie Dew, in [b:Travels in a Strange State|2868492|Travels in a Strange State|Josie Dew|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1267332650l/2868492._SY75_.jpg|2894647] both cycled across the US in 1992, and yet at no time does anyone tell Schimmoeller about how someone was just raped and killed down the road a stretch. No one asks him if he's worried about it happening to him. No one pulls over and wanks at him. And Schimmoeller himself never brings up any concern for his physical safety based on the actions of men nearby. FUNNY THAT.
Anyway, it's a good book.
It makes a strong case for valuing traditional skills based in sustainability and the natural world. It also makes a strong oblique case for the postal service, as Schimmoeller's in close contact with his family through the magic of general delivery, and thrifty enough to send bald unicycle tires home.
Schimmoeller's a gentle soul, accepting of discomfort and weather extremes, and quietly reflective along the way.
And he does, eventually (although not for like another five years after his unicycle tour) get a girlfriend and a log cabin of his own.