[This week, I’ll
be camping with family up in Maine’s
beautiful Acadia National Park. So I wanted to AmericanStudy come contexts
for this longstanding
form of national recreation and escape. Share your camping contexts in
comments, please!]
On the distinct
but equally American cultural traditions for two recent wilderness stories.
From their
titles on, Jon
Krakauer’s Into the Wild (1996;
later made into the 2007
film starring Emile Hirsch) and Cheryl Strayed’s Wild (2012; made into the 2014 film starring
Reese Witherspoon) seem to have a great deal in common. Chris McCandless, the
protagonist of Krakauer’s book, was 24 years old when he hiked alone deep into
the wilds of Alaska’s Stampede Trail; Strayed, the protagonist of her own
memoir, was 27 years old when she hiked the 1100-mile Pacific Crest Trail solo.
Both young people were responding to tragedies and traumas in their lives and
families and seeking something different, something more and more meaningful,
in those wilderness escapes. Yet their stories could not have ended more
differently: McCandless died on his trek, his body found months later by
hunters, requiring his mysterious story to be re-imagined and told by
Krakauer; Strayed not only survived her journey but turned the experience
into a bestselling autobiographical book that has helped launch her evolving and very successful literary
career.
There are lots
of specific details and contexts for each of these individuals and stories that
help explain their divergent outcomes, as of course do the vagaries of luck and
fate in each case. Yet at the same time, each story can be linked to broader,
longstanding American narratives, national images that can help us understand
why these stories have resonated so deeply with audiences on both page and
screen. Strayed’s story exemplifies two famous American quotes about which I
have written previously in this space: Henry David Thoreau’s lines from Chapter 2 of Walden, “I went to the woods because
I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and
see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die,
discover that I had not lived”; and John
Muir’s belief that “the clearest way into the Universe is through a forest
wilderness.” Like those two iconic figures, as well as many others both real
(such as John
Woolman) and fictional (such as Rip
Van Winkle), Strayed turned to the wildnerness both to escape unattractive
aspects of her life and society and to find compelling alternative perspectives
and ways of living, ones that she could then bring back with her upon her
inevitable return to society.
Yet as
McCandless’ story reminds us, such returns are not at all inevitable, as the
wilderness is not just and not mostly a place for our own self-discovery; it is
also its own distinct world, one with realities and dangers that we ignore or
minimize at our own peril. Innumerable American cultural texts have focused on
stories of those dangers and their destructive and often fatal effects, from
classics such as Herman Melville’s
Moby-Dick (1851) and Jack
London’s “To Build a Fire” (1902) to recent works such as Sebastian
Junger’s The Perfect Storm: A True Story
of Men against the Sea (1997) and Werner Herzog’s documentary Grizzly Man (2006). While a cynical case could be made that we return to such
stories again and again in the same way that we rubber-neck at accidents on the
highway, I would argue that we also and most importantly find in such stories
reminders of both our own limitations and of powers and forces outside of and
beyond our own identities. While those realities can be too much for any
individual to experience first-hand—and I’m not suggesting for a moment that
McCandless’ death was anything other than a tragedy, for it certainly was—the stories
of them have an important cultural role to play, one complementary to and as
valuable as the lessons taken from wilderness survival stories like Strayed’s.
Next camping
context tomorrow,
Ben
PS. What do you
think? Other camping contexts you’d highlight?
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