It was odd seeing a bus carried through the Alaskan wild by helicopter. As it topped the massive evergreens, my thoughts gathered in a whirlwind of memory, recalling the untimely death of Chris McCandless.
But first, I had to ask longtime Latin teaching legend Tom Handloser about a fleeting thought. I remembered that the word "bus" came from the Latin omnibus. Tom confirmed my thought. "Simple enough. Omnibus means 'for everyone' and a bus is, theoretically, designed to carry 'everyone.'"
For everyone. Makes sense.
Then I went back to the tale of Chris McCandless. He was about my age, graduated from Emory University as a history major, and decided he didn't want a straight ticket to law school. McCandless opted for the unbeaten path, seeking adventure as a tramp in the wilderness, embarking on a trip that would make Jack London proud.
The lure to the wilderness, that inner drive to break the mold and strike out into the great unknown, often resides unnoticed in a corner of the soul. Unnoticed until it reaches out with feathery arms, creating an itch, a sensation that leaving the beaten path is the correct answer. Think about first times. The first time we did something or saw something that transformed our perception of life. For McCandless, the first time he laid eyes on the great outdoors made any time spent within the strict confines of life suffocating.
Writer Jon Krakauer catalogued McCandless' short life and wilderness-urge in his book, "Into the Wild," published in 1996. I've read it several times and wonder why I pick it up so often. Maybe I dream about wilderness treks. Maybe I'm trying to decode what pushed McCandless to make the break from the normal path. Maybe I'm still trying to decide if he was a hero or a fool.
I've always like Krakauer's work, and "Into the Wild" does a fine job of peeling back the layers of McCandless' mind. The short version is that McCandless graduated from college, bypassed law school, and headed for the northern wilderness in 1992. He had canoed the Colorado River, worked in South Dakota, and hitchhiked his way, finally, to Denali National Park in Alaska. Making the transformation total and complete, he changed his name to Alexander Supertramp, donated his savings to charity, burned his cash, and disappeared.
He lived off berries, tried to hunt, and ultimately found shelter along the Stampede Trail in an old bus. That's right, a 1946 International Harvester. In the wilderness. It seems that several decades before McCandless took off on his trek; a construction company had set up camp in the area and dragged the bus on skids to be used as shelter for the men. Once the company failed, it left the bus behind, making it an easy stopping point for hunters. The bus remained in that spot until a couple of weeks ago.
McCandless found the bus in his early spring journey and made it his base camp. Unfortunately, his wilderness skills and experience were lacking and he struggled to find food until finally, he became so weak he could barely move. He kept a makeshift diary and made numerous entries. He would starve if someone didn't find him in that bus.
No one came.
In September 1992, moose hunters crossed the swollen Teklanika River and made their way to the bus. They found McCandless' body within it.
Krakauer's "Into the Wild" sparked obsessive fan recreation of McCandless' journey. There's just something about the story that ignites a taste for freedom from sameness spiced with a love of the outdoors. Unfortunately, like Chris, several of those folks met their deaths in the Alaska wilderness while several others had to be rescued along the way. The Alaska Department of Natural Resources had enough and airlifted the bus out of the wild.
The image of the bus flying tethered to a helicopter is amazing, for sure. But the wilderness in the background is absolutely incredible. Do we have to travel to Denali to experience true adventure, to lather ourselves with the flavor of off-the-beaten-path experience?
Of course not.
While wanderlust is an important part of man, fueling so much energy and creating passion, it does not have to include a total departure from society. Instead, we can see the simple value in diving off the obvious path of our everyday lives to find what the unknown in our world brings.
While we don't have to travel to Alaska for adventure, we can't continue the sameness of our days expecting to find it. Imagine, if we always stay on the sidewalk, we never get to visit the gardens and playgrounds along the way. The challenge is to step outside our patterned existence and seek the unknown, to find the physical and the philosophical wildernesses in arms' reach. We just have to pencil in reasons to explore, to learn, to appreciate.
In a world now plagued by uncertainty, it seems important to try anew. Taking that first step makes all the difference.
For everyone.
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Steve Straessle, whose column appears every other Saturday, is the principal of Little Rock Catholic High School for Boys. You can reach him at sstraessle@lrchs.org.