Wilderness. The word itself is music,"" muses Abbey, after his season of content as a ranger at the Arches National Monument in southeast Utah. Aiming not at imitation but evocation, he describes his days, making the rounds of the natural formations, guiding, visiting, picking up after the tourists who continue to come in their iron dinosaurs (the automobile is the tin can, the parker ranger is the opener). He resents the intrusion (then imminent, now immanent) of Industrial Tourism, through the betterment of roads, pleads fora living wilderness, where people come by foot, horse, even bicycle. ""We need more coyotes, more mountain lions..."" His own experience with sun and moon, desert and mountain, the Grand Canyon and the Colorado, birds and beasts, he shares open handedly. He tells a few tales of (vanishing) cowboys and (increasing) Indians, of out-of-hand humans in the wilds. Once again a fond, but not sanguine look at the wilderness by someone who appreciates what conservation means.