Back To The Forest?
I bet the inmate in upstate New York had no idea what was outside his prison walls when he decided to escape into the Adirondack wilderness last summer. He probably thought the Adirondacks was like a really big Central Park. He probably thought it was the perfect break. Fleeing into the Adirondack Mountain wilderness near the Canadian border had to mean certain success and freedom.
I was in the Adirondacks on the day the inmate broke out of the Ray Brook Correctional Facility in Ray Brook, New York. My car was stopped three times at one of the many roadblocks. My trunk was checked, and I was questioned. The locals at the grocery store laughed about the break because when prisoners escape up there, they usually turn themselves in after a couple of nights in the woods. It was no different with this guy. After only one day of being out, he was found walking down the street in Saranac Lake. The Adirondack woods was no place for him.
Other inmates have run away in the past and have turned themselves in after being lost, wet, hungry, and eaten alive by bugs. They said they had no idea it was so much better in prison than “out there.” Instead of a tame Central Park type woods, they found a dense, sometimes impenetrable place filled with bears, bogs, and millions of mosquitoes, gnats and black flies — the wilderness.
In primeval times when we were hunters and gatherers, the concept of “wilderness” didn’t exist. Nature was nothing to be afraid of ; it was where we lived. It was home. We were wholly connected to the natural world. That’s all there was and for us it was a “Garden of Eden.” As agriculture evolved and we became homesteaders and farmers instead of hunters and gatherers, we thought of ourselves as separate from the natural world and the concept of wilderness was born.
Wilderness became the other, a place to be feared and conquered. Wilderness means in Old English, a place of wild deer. Satan inhabited the forest. Druids practiced their “pagan” rites and witches lived there. By the Middle Ages wilderness meant a place where hermits, insane people, and savages lived. It was a place uncivilized, and therefore to be avoided and feared.
Wilderness became something we needed to control and dominate, and we did this through cultivation, which we esteemed more highly than our old way of living. Land became something to be owned by a group or an individual. Cutting down forests, plowing, planting and taming the land became our vocation.
Dominating the natural world instead of being a part of it was promoted and valued as our human right by both politicians and priests. Priests quoted from the bible the passage stating that man shall have dominion over the entire world. God created the natural world for man’s use and pleasure. Politicians supported that idea, seeing how it could work to their political advantage. Europeans believed it was Christianity’s duty to convert the “pagans” to Christ and thus we rationalized stealing the Native Americans’ land in North America, colonizing Africa, South America, and the Middle and Far East. We wanted to rule over men as well as nature.
This monumental change in our perception of our relationship with nature put us out of our “Garden of Eden” and into a power struggle for dominance over nature. Ever since, we have struggled with the dichotomy of our need to be reconnected with nature and our need to dominate it. Yet, we still yearn for nature and consequently protect and preserve it. And this is why we write about and concern ourselves with conservation, ecology, and pollution. We have a strong desire to save wild places and preserve virgin forests, because we need to know there exists the real possibility of reconnection with nature. Wild places are an extension of ourselves. We’ve not traveled as far as we think from our primeval days when we lived in nature and not merely beside it.
In the nineteenth century many people wanted to “get back to nature”. They wanted to reconnect with wild places, calling them “sublime.” The Romantic poets wrote about nature’s wonder, beauty, and ability to take one’s mind into the spiritual realm. Wordsworth wrote To a Butterfly, I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud, The Sparrows Nest, and To the Cuckoo — all poems about the love and the beauty inherent in nature– nature created by God and therefore inherently good. Nature became idealized as something transformative – being in nature became a new type of spiritual experience. Where previously man’s spiritual experiences had been limited to church and prayer, now they were outdoors in nature, God’s world. The idea of living and sleeping close to nature never minding the bugs, dirt, and the inconveniences became a fad, particularly of the comfortable classes. Getting away from the modern, fast paced Victorian life style and its conveniences such as indoor plumbing, comfortable furniture, and insulated, warm houses became a way of seeing life and the world differently. Paulina Brandreth, a nineteenth and twentieth century writer and hunter writes, “One of the chief beauties about hunting or fishing rests in the fact that both create within the individual an enthusiasm that is tonic to mind and body alike.”
People who lived outdoors in shacks and makeshift tents because they had no other choice were called poor. But people who chose (the operative word) to spend their summers living in tents and lean-tos were called campers. Mildred P. Stokes Hooker (1881-1970) and her family were among those first campers. Hooker’s book, Camp Chronicles about spending seventy summers at her family’s camp on the Upper St. Regis Lake, New York, gives an intimate look at what camping was like at the turn of the last century.
During the first several years her family, including infants and toddlers, lived in tents. Balsam branches covered in quilts were their beds and the lake was their bathtub. They had to take along all their food supplies for the summer or buy them from local farmers. Hooker’s upper class mother took forty chickens to kill for their meals and Hooker’s father rented cows for milk from a farmer. Her father kept the cows on a nearby island so they couldn’t escape.
They were not the only ones camping 120 years ago. Other families, primarily from New York and wealthy, spent their summers in similar accommodations until their Great Camps were built. It was common for the men in these camping families to hire guides who would take them out hunting and fishing for game they would use to feed themselves and their families. Sometimes groups of men with guides would spend a week or two off in the woods and mountains killing as many deer, bear, and other game they could. Days were spent feasting on roasted venison haunches and scores of grilled and baked trout, partridge, pheasant and sadly the now extinct American Passenger Pigeon. Game and fish were so abundant that they were considered in unlimited supply and a guide’s reputation grew from the number of game he killed. According to Paul Schneider in his book The Adirondacks, one of the Adirondack’s greatest guides, Alvah Dunning, killed eight moose in five days and during one winter he and three others killed 100 moose. It was not uncommon to catch fifty to sixty trout on fly rods in a couple of hours. Another guide, named Elijah Simonds, was believed to have killed more than 2,000 deer, 3,000 foxes, 150 bears, 12 wolves and 7 panthers during his guiding career.
Slowly these nineteenth century campers built simple or elaborate cabins and icehouses. Some camps had servant’s quarters and stables. Some civilized their wilderness environment a lot and some not too much. Either way the whole idea was to experience the “freedom” of living out of doors in the great north woods –to experience a different culture than the staid upper class Victorian culture they normally lived.
The idea of combining and relating culture with nature was not a new one. Muir, Emerson, Thoreau and Hawthorne wrote about it. Winslow Homer, Albert Bierstadt, and Frederick Church painted it — man’s effect upon wilderness, man’s perception of nature. Whenever a human being goes into nature, he brings culture along. Even a stroll through the woods changes those woods, leaving footprints and human scent where before there were neither. Thoreau believed that nature and humans had a sympathetic relationship–one where nature responds to us as we respond to nature. He writes, “Shall I not have intelligence with the earth? Am I not partly leaves and vegetable mould myself?” Or Emerson who wrote, “ Nature is so pervaded with human life that there is something of humanity in all, and in every particular.”
That is what those early campers were after, a sympathetic relationship with nature. While they wanted some creature comforts, i.e. ice and wooden dwellings instead of canvas ones, they didn’t want to destroy the very essence they were after in living in the wilderness for the summer. They wanted to experience and understand nature and their undeniable connection to it. They believed as Paul Gruchow, author of The Necessity of Empty Places, believes, “We will not come to any deep understanding of our place in nature except as we delve into its basic documents, and these documents are our wild places.”
We need to keep in touch with the wildness within us, the animal side of our nature. That is one reason why we have preserved wild places all over the world. Places where we know wildness exists, places we have not tamed and developed into skyscrapers, roadways, and farm fields. Knowing wild places exist buoys us when we are in places uncomfortably manmade, like shopping malls and parking lots. This need for connection and communion with the natural world fuels a camping, fishing, hunting, and boating industry worldwide. In the United States alone, millions of us spend millions of dollars a year on tents, boats, fishing equipment and guns. We have an innate need and desire to be in nature whether it is an ocean, lake, desert, wood or mountain. The visit makes whatever is lacking or ailing in us whole and well. We are restored, freed.
For those wealthy Victorian campers connecting with nature meant freedom from some of the social strictures of upper class society. Hooker’s mother wrote in her diary, “I do like the freedom of this place in the way of dress. Even calls are made in flannel suits and gentlemen wear knickerbockers and coarse stockings.” Dressing for dinner was banned at some camps while at others women “bedecked in diamonds and men in ‘boiled’shirts paddled their canoes to the Vanderbilt’s for dinner.” For some, too much social freedom while in the wilderness was too much wildness.
For Martha Reben, wildness and wilderness were her salvation. Reben was a tuberculosis patient at a sanatorium in Saranac Lake, New York. Her father had sent her there from their home in New York City when she was diagnosed at age sixteen. Her mother had died of the disease ten years earlier. Reben had endured three dangerous and painful operations over her three-year stay and still was no better. She was dying. One day as she was reading the local newspaper, she chanced upon an ad looking for a TB sufferer who would like to try an experimental “treatment” in the Adirondack woods. This “treatment” was to spend a summer in the woods camping beside a pond and being taken care of by an Adirondack guide named Fred Rice. She answered the ad and after some convincing of Mr. Rice and her father, she was accepted as Rice’s first experimental patient for the summer of 1931. It worked. By the end of that summer Reben was remarkably better.
For the next ten years, Reben spent spring, summer, and fall camping along the banks of Weller Pond. Although she eventually was cured of TB, she never completely recovered her strength because of the lung damage she had incurred from the disease and the operations. Still in her book, The Healing Woods, she writes that she wouldn’t have lived another year without her summers spent camping on Weller Pond. There she learned how to live out of doors, to use a compass, to fish and to write on an old typewriter. She wrote about what she saw at Weller Pond much as Thoreau wrote about Walden Pond. She made pets of raccoons and birds. She slept at the edge of the pond with the water literally lapping at the legs of her bed. She learned the constellations and how to read the wind and sky for weather clues. When she had to leave in November before the pond froze, she cried. While many people would find the realities of life beside a wilderness pond more reality than they would like to experience, Reben found there the reality of a new life.
Some of us try to get into a wilderness forest and some of us try to get out. It all depends on our perspective. As for me, the next time I hike along Heart Lake with the chipmunks scolding my passing and me preoccupied with my thoughts and suddenly an osprey swoops down six feet away to retrieve her prey, I’ll be as startled as the escaped Adirondack inmate, but I’ll also be amazed. And if a Great Blue Heron and I surprise each other along the banks of the Rocky Falls Brook, he’ll squawk and I’ll scream and after the shock wears off, we’ll both thrill at the meeting.
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Seeking The Wild 