Not long after committing to the idea of writing this blog I invited all my 7th graders to suggest possible names for it. Here’s a representative sample of their recommendations:
As you can see, the main themes here are conflict, conquest, and domination. And that gave me pause. I thought my kids knew me better.
True, I love backpacking, rafting, canoeing, and rock climbing. But I’ve never been a “Man vs. Wild” kind of guy. I’m not a survivalist. Not a pioneer. Don’t even hunt. The main reason I go to the wilderness, in fact, is to be humbled.
- Mr. Whit vs. the Mountain
- Whitmer vs. Africa
- The Whitmer Conquest
- Whitmer the Conqueror
As you can see, the main themes here are conflict, conquest, and domination. And that gave me pause. I thought my kids knew me better.
True, I love backpacking, rafting, canoeing, and rock climbing. But I’ve never been a “Man vs. Wild” kind of guy. I’m not a survivalist. Not a pioneer. Don’t even hunt. The main reason I go to the wilderness, in fact, is to be humbled.
I have no social standing whatsoever among wolves or bears, no strength or attribute that would impress a mountain, and no possession that a swift river couldn’t easily swipe. (Hell, I’ve lost gear to the wind!) I rely on Monica to remind me not to sweat the small stuff, but I rely on wilderness to remind me that “small stuff” is by far the biggest category of stuff that I have.
When I’m stressed about something at work, for instance, I can often pull things back into perspective by remembering when Mo’ and I ran out of water while crossing the Yosemite highlands and couldn’t locate any nearby sources on the map; or I recollect having to yield to three obstinate black bears who were hogging the trail in Shenandoah National Park; or I recall a fierce midnight lightning storm in Yellowstone that for 20 heart-pounding minutes felt like a heavy artillery bombardment.
That’s not small stuff. And it’s immensely helpful to have that kind of “Not Small Stuff” stowed away in accessible memory when facing some of my frustrating-yet-trivial First World problems.
So, kids, I’m not trying to conquer anything when I go into the wilderness. Mostly, I just want to be out there long enough that I’ll appreciate the little comforts I too often take for granted when I’m home. Getting outdoors allows me to really savor that first hot shower when I come back in from the woods. And when I crawl between crisp, clean sheets at the end of each day, I want to easily recall having spent a recent night curled up in a sleeping bag that was just thick enough to keep me warm inside a tent that was just sturdy enough to keep me dry. Ahhhh. Take nothing for granted.
That’s not small stuff. And it’s immensely helpful to have that kind of “Not Small Stuff” stowed away in accessible memory when facing some of my frustrating-yet-trivial First World problems.
So, kids, I’m not trying to conquer anything when I go into the wilderness. Mostly, I just want to be out there long enough that I’ll appreciate the little comforts I too often take for granted when I’m home. Getting outdoors allows me to really savor that first hot shower when I come back in from the woods. And when I crawl between crisp, clean sheets at the end of each day, I want to easily recall having spent a recent night curled up in a sleeping bag that was just thick enough to keep me warm inside a tent that was just sturdy enough to keep me dry. Ahhhh. Take nothing for granted.
Thornton Wilder (perfect name!) once summed it up beautifully: “When you’re safe at home you wish you were having an adventure; when you’re having an adventure you wish you were safe at home.” Like Wilder, I value the contrasts that wilderness travel brings into my life. When I find myself slipping into my predictable ruts at home and at work, I look forward to running away to the rough and rugged mountains. And then, once I’m cold and wet and far from home, I can't wait to get back to my normal routines. The humdrum never looked so inviting.
As I indicated in the very first entry of this blog, I’m not going to Kilimanjaro to conquer it, or even to challenge it. I’m going there to contend with it, and in the process, to confront myself. Truth is, I have a demon to face up there on that mountain, one that has stalked me since childhood. But make no mistake, it’s not the mountain itself that I, or any climber, goes forth to conquer. It’s never the mountain.
As I indicated in the very first entry of this blog, I’m not going to Kilimanjaro to conquer it, or even to challenge it. I’m going there to contend with it, and in the process, to confront myself. Truth is, I have a demon to face up there on that mountain, one that has stalked me since childhood. But make no mistake, it’s not the mountain itself that I, or any climber, goes forth to conquer. It’s never the mountain.