Lately, I’ve been on this bizzare kick: All of a sudden I’m completely enthralled by the rise and fall of the outdoor-obsessed alpha male. Never before have I been even remotely interested in the triumph and tragedy of the man’s man and now it seems I can’t get enough of it. I’ve been reading books and articles about people like Randy Morgenson, the ranger who disappeared in Kings Canyon in 1996 (book review coming shortly), and Chris McCandless, the iconic figure of Into The Wild, but no matter how many books I read or how many biography shows I watch, I come no closer to understanding the decisions these ultimate outdoorsmen made and how their lives evolved (and deteriorated) so rapidly. Nowhere is this more true than in the story of Grant Hadwin, the main character, the main focus and the main question behind the book The Golden Spruce, by John Vaillant.

The plot of the book, which is non-fiction, is both absurdly simple and unbelievably complex. Obviously I’m completely aware of that contradiction, but I really believe there isn’t a truer description. Take the central story for example…Grant Hadwin, by all accounts always an unbelievably smart, talented, driven and strong individual, grows up in British Columbia, in a family active in the logging trade. At first chance, Hadwin became a logger, eventually (and quickly) rising to become a logging engineer, peaking as a road planner/logistics manager for a major logging company. Hadwin quickly distinguished himself as a survivalist, the ultimate outdoorsman. It was said by some that if you dropped him in the woods with absolutely nothing he could live there comfortably for the rest of his life. While working for the company, and clear-cutting large portions of British Columbia’s famed old-growth forests, Hadwin became increasingly frustrated and disappointed with the logging industry’s methods, as well as their general attitude towards, well, nature. After experiencing what he would have referred to as a moment of clarity (and what others referred to as mental instability), Hadwin quit the logging industry to become an environmentalist.

After years of vain attempts to stop the logger’s methods and to raise awareness about B.C.’s clear-cutting operations, Hadwin decided to take matters into his own hands.  In January of 1997, Hadwin traveled to B.C.’s Queen Charlotte Islands to visit the famed Golden Spruce- a 160 foot tall Sitka Spruce covered entirely with gold needles (many visitors claimed it glowed)- the only one like it in the world. On January 20th, as a protest against the logging industry, Hadwin used a chainsaw to make deep cuts at the tree’s base, causing it to fall two days later. As Hadwin saw it: Why does everyone care so much about the felling of one tree, when entire forests are being wiped out without a whisper? Since the tree was on the property of the Haida people (who had an unparalleled amount of respect for it) and was considered a national treasure, charges were brought on Hadwin and he had to report to court.

In early February, worried for his life (retribution for murdering the helpless tree), Hadwin decided to make the trip from the mainland to the island, through these rough (understatement!) waters, by kayak. Suffice it to say, he didn’t make it. Obviously, because of the rough waters, his unparalleled survivalist instinct and the threats made on his life, there was skepticism surrounding his disappearance. Did he get swallowed up the ravenous sea? Or did he purposefully wreck on an island, only to be “lost” in the expansive maze of the northwest temperate rainforest? The debate raged for months until, in June of that year, his kayak and most of his supplies were found on Mary Island, north of Port Rupert. Since the supplies were all in relatively good shape, their finding did nothing to stop the rampant speculation that Hadwin was still alive. (Though it seems like I’ve ruined the story, I assure you: I haven’t. I’ve written you the back cover, the tease. The real story is in the details, as most good ones are.)

The main story line of Grant, though sad and heartbreaking, is almost eerily predictable (probably due to the fact that we always have Hollywood running through our heads). If you were presented no artwork, no description of the book, nothing at all but the start of the story line, it’d be counter-intuitive to suggest that the ending is anything but bad news. The people that knew Grant personally often spoke that, around the time of his attack on the Golden Spruce, that he lived, acted and talked like he was on a one-way track; that’s the odd feeling you get as the author first introduces Grant. But on the other hand, the issues surrounding Hadwin feel like they would take years to digest. The region, the island, the logging industry, the fauna, the people, the culture are so interconnected that it’s hard to tell when one’s point of view stops and the other begins, where one relationship stops and where another begins. Rarely is there an issue described in the book that does not touch on the myriad of responsibilities that we, as humans, have towards nature; but those descriptions do nothing to dent the now increasingly popular question of “How do we both harness nature’s power and preserve it at the same time?”

As confusing as the issues are, and as perplexing as the man was, John Vaillant does an unbelievably  valiant (couldn’t help myself) job in assuming the undertaking. Seeing that Hadwin was, by nature, such an elusive man, it’s a wonder that there was enough information for a book at all. But Vaillant draws the reader in, not by gimmick or speculation, but by describing every possible ingredient to an immense story. It’d be easy to write off the reader’s intelligence by relating everything to Hadwin (whether or not it was relatable). Vaillant, on the other hand, goes out of his way to point out that this isn’t just a story about a mad environmentalist; it’s about the complex relationship between every man/woman (yea: YOU!) and nature. Though the book looks at a specific environment through a very specific lens, the author makes sure to remind us (and remind us often) that this isn’t just a story about the Golden Spruce; it’s a story about a forest of Golden Spruces, located in California and New York and Australia and Scotland and Canada.

To reiterate, a portion of the profile:

“What the chain saw and its mechanical attendants- the bulldozer, log skidder and self-loading logging truck- have done is to reduce the great trees of the Northwest down to objects that a man of average size and physical condition can fall, buck, load and transport. Today, a tree ten feet across the butt can be felled in ten minutes flat, and bucked in half an hour. Afterward it is a matter of moments for a grapple yarder- essentially a huge mobile claw on caterpillar treads- to pick up the multiton logs and load them onto a waiting truck (no need for a spar tree anymore). In theory, then, a 200-ton tree that has stood, unseen, for a thousand years and withstood wind, fire, floods, and earthquakes can be brought to earth, rendered into logs, and bound for a sawmill in under an hour- by just three men. In 1930 it would have taken a dozen men a day to accomplish the same thing. In 1890 it would have taken them weeks, and in 1790 it would have been a matter of months- assuming they were even able to fell the tree.

Even though the structure of the book seems sometimes backwards (the concept of photosynthesis doesn’t get introduced until well past page 175) and the fact that the author often flaunts his New Yorker pedigree, they do nothing to hurt the job he’s done. The book is interesting, entertaining, sad and, at times, kind of endearing. But, by far, the best aspect of the book is that it makes you think deeply about our relationship with nature. Sure, its cliche, but I can’t tell you how many times I’ve read an article/book and be disappointed by the questions it didn’t pose. This book is the opposite: It forces you into Grant’s shoes, forcing you to wonder….What would I do if I were in his position? And there’s nothing more you can do, because we’re still here at an impasse with nature and the Golden Spruce is on the ground, feeding another generation of trees.