Powerful stuff. I love this line from your young dumb self:
“You can’t be a real writer by being safe...”
That has turned out to be true in my case with all the bullets dodged and the huge risks taken repeatedly. I didn’t realize the life experience was fodder to what I’m doing now.
I thought traveling in Italy in my 20's in the middle of summer and staying at cheap Pensiones with shared bathrooms was challenging or a super cheap room in Pisa where we killed mosquitoes all night w our shoes that left spots of blood all over the wall. Guess not! The part about when the Ranger shows up and basically says that you not having water was not his problem was nuts! Wonder if he ever thought of you making it back out alive or not...I guess his offer of the buried MRE's was enough to clear his conscience. LOL. Great story. Every sentence kept me wanting more.
Reminds me of some of my own hitching escapades around Europe. We are a lot tougher than we think we are when occasion demands it. I like the cut of your jib, sailor. Keep going!👏✍️
All those demons that harbor in your soul are left in those mountains and valleys hopefully tucked away in the tiny cracks and ravines only to be a distant memory.
Wow! This is an amazing story. I have to admit I've never done anything like you described, in terms of living wild like that. It must still remain a big part of who you are.
There’s power in this piece. I had to put on some music and wake all the way up to read it because it was about moving through and was going to be worth it and it was and is.
Keep going (although I think you will if I say so or not) Good writers carry the reader with them and you’re doing it.
Some good memories here of my own 20s. I’m always struck by how European a trope the solitary wanderer is. For most human cultures, solitude means exile, banishment, death. Hence McCandless’s tragic epiphany about shared happiness. It’s easier to walk deep into the woods than to keep that freshness of spirit with kids and work and home maintenance. But I believe, like the late Bill Holm, that the human heart can be filled anyplace.
Yes. Although I still think it’s beautiful, the idea of walking purposefully into solitude, away from all the devices and distractions of modern times. But you’re right.
Having been forest-adjacent at one period of my life, I’d of had to be frog-marched at the point of a gun to go more than a foot into those densely packed trees. Maybe another reason apart from your writing I found this piece riveting. My solace once (and for a very long time) was swimming out into the water until i exhausted myself enough to pause and float, then going on again until the island was so far I couldn’t identify whoever was left on the beach. Pushing boundaries is the mutual act here perhaps. It leaves you sure on your feet throughout your life.
Powerful stuff. I love this line from your young dumb self:
“You can’t be a real writer by being safe...”
That has turned out to be true in my case with all the bullets dodged and the huge risks taken repeatedly. I didn’t realize the life experience was fodder to what I’m doing now.
Thanks!
Exactly!!! Amen to that brotha 🙌
Loved this piece. Brought me back to similar journeys, similar yearning, similar untangleable recklessness/trusting.
Beautiful 🤩
I thought traveling in Italy in my 20's in the middle of summer and staying at cheap Pensiones with shared bathrooms was challenging or a super cheap room in Pisa where we killed mosquitoes all night w our shoes that left spots of blood all over the wall. Guess not! The part about when the Ranger shows up and basically says that you not having water was not his problem was nuts! Wonder if he ever thought of you making it back out alive or not...I guess his offer of the buried MRE's was enough to clear his conscience. LOL. Great story. Every sentence kept me wanting more.
Thank you 🙏 ❤️❤️
Reminds me of some of my own hitching escapades around Europe. We are a lot tougher than we think we are when occasion demands it. I like the cut of your jib, sailor. Keep going!👏✍️
100%. It’s a fascinating way to learn and to discover what we’re made of.
This is great. Isn't it strange how loneliness can be something that we passionately desire?
Yes!!!!
It is a strange, beautiful thing that solitude can nourish the soul.
Yes 🙌
All those demons that harbor in your soul are left in those mountains and valleys hopefully tucked away in the tiny cracks and ravines only to be a distant memory.
Beautifully said ❤️
Wow! This is an amazing story. I have to admit I've never done anything like you described, in terms of living wild like that. It must still remain a big part of who you are.
Thank you. Oh yeah: It’s still in me. Hence my 2016 450-mile walk across El Camino de Santiago in northern Spain, unplanned!
https://michaelmohr.substack.com/p/buen-camino-my-unexpected-walk-across
Awesome!
There’s power in this piece. I had to put on some music and wake all the way up to read it because it was about moving through and was going to be worth it and it was and is.
Keep going (although I think you will if I say so or not) Good writers carry the reader with them and you’re doing it.
Thank you so much ❤️👌👍
Some good memories here of my own 20s. I’m always struck by how European a trope the solitary wanderer is. For most human cultures, solitude means exile, banishment, death. Hence McCandless’s tragic epiphany about shared happiness. It’s easier to walk deep into the woods than to keep that freshness of spirit with kids and work and home maintenance. But I believe, like the late Bill Holm, that the human heart can be filled anyplace.
Yes. Although I still think it’s beautiful, the idea of walking purposefully into solitude, away from all the devices and distractions of modern times. But you’re right.
Having been forest-adjacent at one period of my life, I’d of had to be frog-marched at the point of a gun to go more than a foot into those densely packed trees. Maybe another reason apart from your writing I found this piece riveting. My solace once (and for a very long time) was swimming out into the water until i exhausted myself enough to pause and float, then going on again until the island was so far I couldn’t identify whoever was left on the beach. Pushing boundaries is the mutual act here perhaps. It leaves you sure on your feet throughout your life.