The Monkey Wrench Gang (P.S.)

The Monkey Wrench Gang (P.S.)

Edward Abbey

Language: English

Pages: 480

ISBN: 0061129763

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Ex-Green Beret George Hayduke has returned from war to find his beloved southwestern desert threatened by industrial development. Joining with Bronx exile and feminist saboteur Bonnie Abzug, wilderness guide and outcast Mormon Seldom Seen Smith, and libertarian billboard torcher Doc Sarvis, M.D., Hayduke is ready to fight the power taking on the strip miners, clear-cutters, and the highway, dam, and bridge builders who are threatening the natural habitat. The Monkey Wrench Gang is on the move and peaceful coexistence be damned!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

middle?” “Is that a window?” “More likely a door. The kind of door you have to get down on hands and knees to crawl through.” They are staring at the remains of an Anasazi cliff dwelling, abandoned seven hundred years ago but well preserved in the desert’s aridity. Dust and potsherds wait up there, burnt corncobs and a smoke-blackened ceiling in the cave and old old bones. The four tramp on over the sloping beds of sandstone, over the rocks and gravel of the waterless stream bed, through the

“Okay, now we grab these two levers here.” Hayduke watching again, all attention. “This upper one is the pinion control and the lower one is the clutch control. Now we push the clutch lever all the way in”—toward the diesel engine block—“and pull the pinion lever all the way out. Now we move the idle latch to let the starting engine run at full speed. Now we engage the starting-engine clutch.” He pulled the clutch lever out. The engine slowed, almost stalled, then picked up speed. He moved the

first.” “Now what?” “Let me out, Seldom, leave me behind that rock up ahead. I’ll pink their tires with my little hollow points here and run like hell and meet you later in Hanksville or someplace sexy.” “Let me think.” “Another beer?” “I’m a-tryin’ to think, George, lemme think. There’s an old mine road up ahead, leads off to the west, and maybe it goes clear to the top of the mesa. Don’t know for certain. If it don’t we’re sunk. If it does we’ll lose ’em easy up there in the woods. But if

Arizona sunsets. Tomorrow to Betatakin for rendezvous with Doc and Bonnie. Then on to Black Mesa for a little chat with the Peabody Coal Company, the Black Mesa and Lake Powell Railroad. And then? They preferred not to speculate. They pissed, belched, farted, scratched, grunted, brushed their teeth, unrolled their bedrolls on the sandy ground and turned in for the night. Smith was awakened past midnight, with Scorpio down and Orion rising, but muttered moans from the sack nearby. He lifted his

Passing through Black Mesa Junction in a light traffic of summer tourists, Navajo pickups and state police, they saw the lights of the loading depot burning brightly. Separate power source. The coal conveyor, bridging the highway forty feet above their heads, was also moving. Slowing his jeep, Hayduke stared at this critical node of the power complex. “Keep going,” she said. “All right,” he said. “Sure.” But one mile farther and he had to stop. He pulled off on a side road, shut off lights and

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