My Side of the Mountain

I do not remember exactly when I first read 'My Side of the Mountain'—I was somewhere around eight or ten years old—but I do remember the anticipation of seeing it in that pre-order magazine we used to get. It was one of those bookmobile books, the kind that feels like a prize you’ve won. From the moment I opened it, I was consumed by the story of Sam Gribley, who leaves his crowded New York City apartment for the Catskill Mountains to see if he can live off the land. It is a book that plants seeds; it planted one in me that has never stopped growing.

The scenes of Sam living in the hollow of an old hemlock tree, making acorn pancake flour and training his peregrine falcon, Frightful, are so richly imagined and romantic. This book is singlehandedly responsible for my lifelong fascination with trees. Even now, I will pull the car over just to check out an old or interesting specimen, and I always make time on vacation to visit large, landmark trees. I still hope to retire to a treehouse someday. The idea that a person could step outside the noise of the world and learn to live by their own hands and wits was a revelation to me as a child.

What struck me most, however, was Sam’s resourcefulness. He taught me about the power of knowledge and exactly where to find it. When he didn’t know how to do something necessary for survival, he didn’t despair or give up; he went to the library. He made sketches of falconry hoods, fishhooks, and hide tanning racks. Sam wanted to live in the woods, and he used his intellect to figure out how to do it. It was a stirring reminder that if you have the right books and the will to study them, you can build a whole life from scratch.

I suggest this book to any parent with a child, but specifically to those with children who love the outdoors or wildlife. It is capable of instilling a deep, lasting appreciation for the woods, the wind, and the animals that dwell there. This is more than just a survival story; it is a blueprint for a certain kind of freedom.