John Muir's enduring legacy is evident in the vast acreage comprising our National Park system and the worldwide influence of the Sierra Club whose mission is to advocate for the survival of the world's natural resources. Initially driven by his spiritual love for nature and the wilderness, Muir became a prolific author, an influential champion and defender of the natural world. He raised awareness about the fragility of the wilderness and made us mindful that in preserving it we save something greater than ourselves.

"When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the Universe."

— John Muir

Born: April 21, 1838 in Dunbar, Scotland
Died: December 24, 1914 in Los Angeles, California

John Muir was a conservationist, preservationist, explorer, writer, inventor, farmer, and naturalist. Perhaps his most enduring legacy is as the father of our national park system. Indeed, on an even greater scale, he is often identified as the architect of the environmental movement in this country. As the founder of the Sierra Club, he provided a beacon of hope for sustainability and survival of our country's, and the world's, natural resources.

Muir left his native Scotland at 11 years of age to emigrate with his family to a farm near Portage, Wisconsin. His father, a severe disciplinarian and religious zealot, allowed little time for anything other than dawn to dusk work in the fields. Whenever he was allowed a short period away from the plow and hoe, he would roam the fields and woods of the lush, and wild, Wisconsin countryside, becoming a fervent and loving observer of the natural world. It was these boyhood explorations, coupled with his strict religious upbringing, that shaped Muir's extraordinary spiritual love for nature and the wilderness.

He became an inventor of time and labor-saving devices and even displayed some of them at the Wisconsin State Fair. Although he had had little formal schooling after the age of 11, he was admitted to, and attended the University of Wisconsin. Muir studied science and then medicine, but soon gave up both for various jobs that challenged his inventive skills.

In 1867, while working in a machine shop in Indianapolis, a momentous accident changed Muir's life. He suffered a blinding eye injury and lost the use of one eye. The other eye soon went dark in sympathetic reaction. His sight gradually returned over a period of months and he felt he had been reborn. He resolved to spend the rest of his life immersed in the sights of nature that had been so nearly denied him permanently.

He developed a wanderlust that was never quenched. His greatest ambition was to explore the wilderness he so dearly loved. By the age of 30, on foot, he had journeyed a thousand miles from Kentucky to the Gulf of Mexico. He had traversed the Florida swamps and traveled to Cuba.

In 1868, he sailed from Panama up the west coast to San Francisco. Shortly thereafter, his first view of the Yosemite area engendered a lifelong love for its beauty and a passion for ensuring that it would remain in its state of pristine magnificence. Although he would ultimately travel the world, California had become his home.

For eight years Muir made his home in Yosemite and came to know it intimately. He worked as a shepherd, ran a sawmill, and served as a guide for some of Yosemite's most famous visitors, including his idol Ralph Waldo Emerson, as well as artist William Keith and Theodore Roosevelt. Many of the friends he made would later figure prominently in the creation of Yosemite National Park.

He hiked over the great granite geometry of Yosemite, celebrated the beauty of the Giant Sequoia groves, bathed in its rivers and waterfalls and climbed nearly every peak. A prolific and poetic writer, he kept detailed journals filled with his own sketches of his observations. His interpretations of what he saw led him to suggest the then astonishing idea that Yosemite's polished granite surfaces, lush valleys and scattered boulders were the result of ancient glacial action. Although his theories were scorned at the time, they would later be proven to be amazingly accurate.

In 1880 he married Louie Wanda Strentzel, made a new home near Sacramento and fathered two daughters. Although the first half of his life had been spent roaming and observing nature, the latter half would be dedicated to writing about, championing and defending nature.

He became a prolific writer, particularly in Century magazine, one of the leading national periodicals of the time. Along with the magazine's editor, Robert Johnson, Muir drew constant and compelling attention to the devastation of the mountain meadows and forests by sheep and cattle, which Muir felt were permanently altering the sub-alpine environment. Together they worked to counteract this destruction. Muir wrote long articles on Yosemite, passionately advocating a National Park. Johnson published the articles and lobbied energetically. In 1890, Congress submitted to this emotional and literary onslaught, and, due in large part to the efforts of Muir and Johnson, the Yosemite National Park was created.

Ultimately, Muir was also personally involved in the creation of Sequoia National Park, Mount Ranier National Park, Petrified Forest National Park and the Grand Canyon National Park. For these accomplishments, Muir fittingly is often called the father of our national park system.

Many notable national figures continued to suggest to Muir that an organization be formed to protect Yosemite and other National Parks from the assaults of stockmen, tourists, lumbermen and others who would diminish the boundaries of the Parks. Heeding these suggestions, in 1892 Muir, and a number of supporters, founded the Sierra Club to, in Muir's words, "do something for wildness and make the mountains glad."

With Muir as president, apostle, guide and inspiration, the Sierra Club initially focused on preserving and making accessible the Sierra Nevada. Muir continued to serve as the Sierra Club's president until his death.

In 1901, Muir published one of his many books, Our National Parks, and the book attracted the attention of President Theodore Roosevelt. In 1903, Roosevelt visited Muir in Yosemite and there, together, they laid the foundation of Roosevelt's innovative and notable national conservation programs. In his later years, Muir enjoyed remembering how he took Roosevelt away from the official retinue, amid much consternation, in Yosemite. It was there that Muir was able to convince Roosevelt about the need for strong preservation efforts in the nations parks and forests.

Over the years, Muir and the Sierra Club took on many foes in their battles to protect Yosemite and the Sierra Nevada. In 1906, however, the San Francisco earthquake destroyed most of the city. Taking advantage of the devastation and hysteria, the city fought to take the water rights to the Tuollumne River flowing through Yosemite's magnificent Hetch Hetchy Valley. The city claimed that if Hetch Hetchy water had been available, the fire would not have leveled the city. The ensuing battle lasted seven years, with an aging Muir always at the forefront, vociferously protesting the proposed dam. Muir summed up the basic arguments against the dam with some of his most exquisite and uplifting prose. "These temple destroyers, devotees of ravaging commercialism, seem to have a perfect contempt for nature, and, instead of lifting their eyes to the God of the mountains, lift them to the Almighty Dollar."

As with many environmental battles, the fight was ugly. Dam proponents were well armed with money and, some say, chicanery and lies. Even some members of The Sierra Club were in favor of the dam, and the organization was deeply divided by the controversy. Newspapers fanned the flames still further by portraying Muir as a hypocrite and a fanatic. Finally, however, in December 1913, President Woodrow Wilson signed the Raker Bill granting San Francisco the right to dam the Tuollumne River, flood Hetch Hetchy and form a reservoir to supply the water needs of a growing San Francisco. Muir and the Sierra Club had lost their holy valley forever.

Some say the incident shortened Muir's life. Muir contracted pneumonia less than a year after the valley's fate was sealed and he died in Los Angeles on Christmas Eve, 1914. It was a singularly undistinguished ending for a man who, in his lifetime, had faced death on uncharted rocky crags and lonely icy glaciers and who braved Alaskan storms with little more than a crust of bread in his pocket.

The Sierra Club, and the environmental movement as a whole, have grown most rapidly in times of severe, well-publicized threats to the environment. But over the years, slow and steady growth can be traced directly to those who have followed Muir's advice, "Climb the mountains and get their good tidings." Today, the Sierra Club is a formidable advocate and a world wide influence in matters of nature preservation.

In the years since his death, Muir's legend has grown to almost mythical proportions. He is loved, revered and honored by millions who have been inspired by his books and achievements. In 1976 the California Historical Society voted him "The Greatest Californian." The U.S. Geological Survey recognized his fame and contributions to the environment. In their guidelines on naming mountains and lakes after individuals, they cite Muir as an example of someone who has had so many geographical locations named after him that they would not be likely to approve any further such commemorations.

In Scotland, his spirit has inspired the creation of the John Muir Trust under the patronage of the Prince of Wales. In his birthplace in Dunbar, Scotland, a $10 million John Muir Center is planned for environmental education and sustainability.

Muir's vitality lives on in the legacies that have made a difference in our nation. Perhaps his most notable legacy is the genius he portrayed in awakening America from its lethargy regarding the preservation of our diminishing nature resources, and by provoking an awareness that wild places are fragile, precious and must be preserved. He made us mindful that in preserving the wilderness, we are in touch with something greater than ourselves.