Born October 15, 1831, she traveled extensively as an adult and was both a writer and natural historian. Though I’m slow going I’ll have a smile on my face because I’m enjoying the great outdoors and thinking of Isabella. I lack her tenacity and mountaineering skills. Hopefully this summer you can find me huffing and puffing on the trails at Mount Rainier. I was glad I read A Lady’s Life in the Rocky Mountains and will look for more of her works. There was nothing to be afraid of and though I can’t exactly say that I enjoyed the ride, yet there was the pleasant feeling of gaining health every hour.” All life was in a shroud, all work and travel suspended. “I cannot describe my feelings on this ride, produced by the utter loneliness, the silence and dumbness of all things, the snow falling quietly without wind, the obliterated mountains, the darkness, the intense cold, and the unusual and appalling aspect of nature. I had a hard time putting this book down. Her journey was just the distraction I needed.
I could practically hear the howling winds and feel the biting cold. I was transported from the comfort of my patio chair sitting in the spring sunshine.
It was easy to imagine narrow winding canyons, immeasurably deep crevasses, and bone-chilling cold atop a mountain peak. My only complaint about her book was her cringe inducing description of indigenous first nation people. She was an extensive traveler, wrote several books and articles, and died at the age of 73. Isabella was born in 1831 and published her first book in 1856. She camped in the mountains, and stayed at a ranch where she threw herself into manual labor. She ran out of money at one point and worked for room and board. Though she described magnificent sunrises and sunsets so beautiful it was a spiritual experience to witness, Isabella wasn’t on vacation. She met grizzly bears, wolves, coyotes, gunslingers, trappers, ranchers and even a handsome desperado. Without the protection of sunglasses, or sunscreen she faced sweltering heat in the plains. Through freezing blizzards without nary a piece of technical clothing she endured snowstorms in the mountains. Without the help of a GPS Isabella found her way through wild places. Her letters took me through places I’ve never seen but could easily imagine. Her writing style seamlessly wove from elegant prose to succinct descriptions of flora and fauna. A Lady’s Life in the Rocky Mountains is part memoir, part travel log and all of it lovingly documented for her sister. She could be self-deprecating, poetic, humorous and judgmental. In her letters she matter-of-factly describes hardships without a hint of self-pity.
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