Galen Rowell

Renowned wilderness photographer and mountain climber Galen Rowell and his photographer wife, Barbara, were killed in the crash of a private airplane early Sunday morning just south of the airport in Bishop, Calif. The twin-engine charter aircraft, an Aero Commander 690-B, crashed about 1:24 a.m. as it made its final approach to the airfield in the town on the eastern flank of the Sierra, according to the Inyo County Sheriff's Department. The pilot and all three passengers were killed.

Re "How to honor an activist -- one more fight," Opinion, Sept. 8 It's good to know that almost five years after his death, my father, David Brower, continues to stir discussion about the need for parks and wild places. But there are a few points to clarify in David Rains Wallace's piece. PowerBar founder Brian Maxwell, who commissioned the sculpture at the suggestion of climber/photographer Galen Rowell, was more than a "wealthy friend." Both Maxwell and Rowell were longtime admirers and supporters of my father and his work, which was not limited to saving wild places in California.

The ORPHANS LIE UPSTAIRS IN THE OLD BANK BUILD- ing on South Main Street -- page upon page of numbered slides, spilling across a light table. In AA1154, a lone climber in a red parka confronts the daunting eastern face of Mt. Whitney, its crevices half-filled with snow. In AA1126, an improbable arch of rough red rock frames a distant view of the high Sierra slopes. In AA0001, snapped in 1973, a far-off climber stands in silhouette atop a rock pinnacle.

The ORPHANS LIE UPSTAIRS IN THE OLD BANK BUILD- ing on South Main Street -- page upon page of numbered slides, spilling across a light table. In AA1154, a lone climber in a red parka confronts the daunting eastern face of Mt. Whitney, its crevices half-filled with snow. In AA1126, an improbable arch of rough red rock frames a distant view of the high Sierra slopes. In AA0001, snapped in 1973, a far-off climber stands in silhouette atop a rock pinnacle.

"This," says Galen Rowell, tapping a page of his latest book with his forefinger, "this is the photo that got me in trouble." It was not even one of his own, those miracles of image and light that have made Rowell one of America's foremost mountain photographers and adventurers for more than 15 years.

There are 350,000 photos in the inventory built over the decades by Galen and Barbara Rowell. But mention Galen Rowell and a single shot comes to mind--of a huge rainbow seeming to cast an ethereal light on the hilltop Potala Palace, onetime home of the Dalai Lamas in Lhasa, Tibet. The Sierra Club's Carl Pope said: "He didn't make you wonder how he got that shot. He made you wonder, how did he get that rainbow?" Visitors to the Rowells' gallery in the Eastern Sierra town of Bishop, Calif.

Re "How to honor an activist -- one more fight," Opinion, Sept. 8 It's good to know that almost five years after his death, my father, David Brower, continues to stir discussion about the need for parks and wild places. But there are a few points to clarify in David Rains Wallace's piece. PowerBar founder Brian Maxwell, who commissioned the sculpture at the suggestion of climber/photographer Galen Rowell, was more than a "wealthy friend." Both Maxwell and Rowell were longtime admirers and supporters of my father and his work, which was not limited to saving wild places in California.

COME HELL ON HIGH WATER: A Really Sullen Memoir by Gregory Jaynes (North Point, $23). Boomers are growing old and reflective, and they are filling bookshelves with their memoirs. These books, or at least the good ones, turn out to be our only reliable guides to the shared experience of tallying things up, here at what this big, self-conscious generation optimistically calls midlife. Cinema, TV, magazines help hardly at all with their distorted and narrow depiction of authentic experience.

Even in a couch-potato culture that worships the twin idols of vicarious experience and virtual reality, it might seem far-fetched to describe photography as "an action sport." But for Galen Rowell, the celebrated nature photographer who died with his wife, Barbara Cushman Rowell, in a plane crash earlier this week, the phrase fit as comfortably as an old pair of hiking boots.The desire to see deeply into nature took the Berkeley-born Rowell far beyond passive spectatorship.

Even in a couch-potato culture that worships the twin idols of vicarious experience and virtual reality, it might seem far-fetched to describe photography as "an action sport." But for Galen Rowell, the celebrated nature photographer who died with his wife, Barbara Cushman Rowell, in a plane crash earlier this week, the phrase fit as comfortably as an old pair of hiking boots.The desire to see deeply into nature took the Berkeley-born Rowell far beyond passive spectatorship.

There are 350,000 photos in the inventory built over the decades by Galen and Barbara Rowell. But mention Galen Rowell and a single shot comes to mind--of a huge rainbow seeming to cast an ethereal light on the hilltop Potala Palace, onetime home of the Dalai Lamas in Lhasa, Tibet. The Sierra Club's Carl Pope said: "He didn't make you wonder how he got that shot. He made you wonder, how did he get that rainbow?" Visitors to the Rowells' gallery in the Eastern Sierra town of Bishop, Calif.

Renowned wilderness photographer and mountain climber Galen Rowell and his photographer wife, Barbara, were killed in the crash of a private airplane early Sunday morning just south of the airport in Bishop, Calif. The twin-engine charter aircraft, an Aero Commander 690-B, crashed about 1:24 a.m. as it made its final approach to the airfield in the town on the eastern flank of the Sierra, according to the Inyo County Sheriff's Department. The pilot and all three passengers were killed.

Route 66, so richly celebrated in story and song, is without a doubt the most famous highway in America. First commissioned in 1926, U.S. Highway 66 suddenly opened up the remote byways to travelers in search of a frontier experience. What they found, however, owed far more to P.T. Barnum and the Hollywood back lot than to the Old West.

COME HELL ON HIGH WATER: A Really Sullen Memoir by Gregory Jaynes (North Point, $23). Boomers are growing old and reflective, and they are filling bookshelves with their memoirs. These books, or at least the good ones, turn out to be our only reliable guides to the shared experience of tallying things up, here at what this big, self-conscious generation optimistically calls midlife. Cinema, TV, magazines help hardly at all with their distorted and narrow depiction of authentic experience.

"This," says Galen Rowell, tapping a page of his latest book with his forefinger, "this is the photo that got me in trouble." It was not even one of his own, those miracles of image and light that have made Rowell one of America's foremost mountain photographers and adventurers for more than 15 years.

Galen Rowell is one of the best nature photographers in the world. As might be expected, the photographs in these two books are truly spectacular. Page after page of breathtaking mountain scenes go by--the sort of thing you normally encounter only on fancy calendars. Either book would be worth the price for the pictures alone. All too often, publishers of coffee-table books with good photographs feel they don't have to pay much attention to the writing that makes up the rest.

Route 66, so richly celebrated in story and song, is without a doubt the most famous highway in America. First commissioned in 1926, U.S. Highway 66 suddenly opened up the remote byways to travelers in search of a frontier experience. What they found, however, owed far more to P.T. Barnum and the Hollywood back lot than to the Old West.

The titles of these two books--"Freedom in Exile," a simple and powerful autobiography by the 14th Dalai Lama of Tibet, and "My Tibet," a sumptuous and touching glimpse of his country and people--are themselves simple, powerful and quite disarming. They are also quite paradoxical. Exile, after all, seems a sort of inverted imprisonment in which one is held captive by exclusion. So long as one is exiled, how can one be free? Similarly, since the Dalai Lama has been excluded from his rightful rule by an army of occupation, can he really call the land his own?