“Any deep dive into understanding John Muir’s rebellious life leads to one overriding conclusion: he was a hippie,” Chapman writes. “The shaggy bohemian, spouting poetry and dodging drafts, thumbed his nose at conventional wisdom, religious orthodoxy and societal mores. … Muir shredded the 19th century maxim that all progress is good progress. He didn’t trust The Man – or, in his own words, “Lord Man” – and society’s money-first mentality. Confronted early on with good jobs and a middle-class life, Muir backs down. And then I went hiking.

(In some ways, however, Muir was truly a man of his time, given to ugly racist outbursts even when black people shared their food with him.)

Between these two note-scribbling wanderers, it’s hard to say who is more thrilled by the outdoors, but Chapman is the wisest. He takes an immersive, sometimes mischievous approach, occasionally sipping rye to warm his bones, caving in Mammoth Cave and swimming in one of Florida’s declining crystal springs. Her easy-going enthusiasm is contagious enough to make us all green enthusiasts. “The mountains are my playground, my gym, my church, my favorite haunt and my therapist couch,” he writes.

Like a good journalist, Chapman did his homework, reading every dry scientific journal and investigation, connecting the dots and distilling them into accessible observations and larger truths.

The South has an even greater natural wealth than many of us realize, with an abundant biodiversity comparable to that of the Amazon. More than 90% of the country’s bird species live or pass through here. Nearly two-thirds of all fish species in the United States live in our waterways, and more than a quarter of freshwater varieties are found nowhere else on earth. One in three plant species inhabits the southeast. Then there are the mussels, which are the subject of particular attention for their essential role in filtration. Over 90% of the country’s mussels and 40% of the world’s mussels inhabit our waterways. However, all of this flora and fauna could benefit from better stewardship.

“While the Southeast region is home to 30 percent of the nation’s threatened and endangered species,” Chapman writes, “it receives less than 1 percent of all federal and state funds spent nationwide trying to save these species.

Unsurprisingly, storm clouds are looming on the horizon, just as they did in Muir’s time as he rummaged through a place still in ash from the Civil War. “‘The mountains are calling’ – and they are not happy” is a chapter title. The wrongdoers are the usual suspects – climate change (this book should be required reading for deniers); industrial polluters doing their usual looting and looting; widespread invasion of non-native species; and the inexorable phenomenon that would make Muir tear his clothes to shreds in Atlanta traffic – sprawl. With rising temperatures and sea levels, many plants and animals seek higher ground and cooler weather, and they are running out of space.

Muir is usually associated with Yosemite, but he had a “transformative moment” here on the east coast. Chapman begins his journey by camping at Bonaventure Cemetery in Savannah, where Muir has been staying while awaiting funds from his brother. It was here that his “environmental, ethical and philosophical beliefs that underpin the American conservation movement took root…this passionate defender of all things wild owes much of his life’s work and reputation to the dead “.

Part of the charm of this picaresque is Chapman’s celebration of creatures that are neither cuddly nor photogenic. It takes a skilled writer to make cave crickets sexy or bivalves entertaining (they’re “sex machines,” writes Chapman), but these animals are keystones of the ecosystem – we lose them at our peril. . The phrase “canary in a coal mine” is deployed by several experts on a range of species at risk.

Chapman also puts a human face to these developments, talking to people who like to get their hands dirty — scientists, oyster farmers, a feral hog hunter, river keepers and an eccentric, professional Muir impersonator, to name it. to name a few. He sketches them like a scrimshaw. Particularly touching in its subtlety is the passage about a once sturdy worker weakened by coal ash: “Someone else is cutting the grass. Golf clubs sit in a corner of the garage. … He has seven grandchildren who will never learn hunting and fishing from their grandfather.

“A Road Running Southward” offers no prescription for solving these problems overnight, but it reminds us of all we have, and it rings a powerful and resonant alarm.

NON FICTION

“A Road South: Following John Muir’s Journey Through Threatened Land”

By Dan Chapman

Island Press

256 pages, $28

APPEARANCE OF THE AUTHOR

Dan Chapman. 7 p.m. June 2. Free. Presented by A Cappella Books. Manuel’s Tavern, 602 N. Highland Ave., Atlanta. www.acappellabooks.com