Into the Wild

“In April 1992 a young man from a well-to-do family hitchhiked to Alaska and walked alone in the wilderness north of Mt. McKinley. His name was Christopher Johnson McCandless. He had given $25,000 in savings to charity, abandoned his car and most of his possessions, burned all the cash in his wallet, and invented a new life for himself. Four months later, his decomposed body was found by a moose hunter. …”

This is printed on the outside panel of the jacket for “Into the Wild.” Before even cracking the book open, the tragic end of the story is revealed. How’s that for killing suspense?

And yet.

Two weeks before I moved back from Santa Fe to Santa Barbara, Sylvia borrowed my first purchase of a book on tape. When she returned from her trip to visit family in Carlsbad – a lonesome road designed for reflection or substance abuse if there ever was one– she praised its ebullient and arresting narrative.

A few miles outside of Gallup on a mild, late January 1999 day, I plopped the tape in my car’s player just as I crossed into Arizona. I shortened a coffee break in Flag so that I could return to it. Nighttime descended and I was absorbed in this improbable true story (with parts unfolding in locations near my own route) until I forded the Colorado River into Laughlin.

Later, I purchased Jon Krakauer’s book. It drew me even further into the gripping account of how Christopher McCandless came to die on the Stampede Trail.

In reverse story telling, the author traces his life backwards, drawing on a diary and interviews with people who crossed his path. Krakauer tells of an unapologetic quest for the spirit and enlightenment of the wilderness.

Its dedication, passion and purpose resonate with me. I have offered this book to many friends who I imagine may have come to understand my own motivation. This blog seeks to capture a small measure of it.

Seven years to the day after separate parties discovered McCandless’ body, I stood on the same Stampede Trail near Denali National Park. The previous day, at the Teklanika River bus stop inside the park, I had overheard people question why the name of the river sounded familiar. “Do you know Christopher McCandless?” I asked them. Immediately, the four Australians recalled the book. A swollen Teklanika bursting with snow melt had forced McCandless to wait for the runoff to subside, with tragic consequences.

A Sean Penn film adaptation of the book will open in the U.S. on Friday 21 September. He filmed it mostly on location at the margin of the Western ethos (many that I have visited) and stars some of the people who knew McCandless. The director enlisted Emile Hirsch to play the lead. Marcia Gay Harden, William Hurt, Jena Malone, Catherine Keener and Vince Vaughn also joined the project. Michael Brook and Eddie Vedder collaborated on an atmospheric soundtrack.

It has received great reviews at Venice (where director Ang Lee won his second Golden Lion for “Se, Jie” (Lust, Caution) after his fantastic “Brokeback Mountain” two years ago) and Telluride. It is screening in Toronto right now where I hope it snags the People’s Choice award.

Buy the book. Borrow it from a library, a friend, me. See the film. Under the indoor starry skies of the Arlington Theatre in Santa Barbara, perhaps...
Christopher McCandless died. He did not surrender.