GoodSports: Back to the Wild

Into the Wild, by storyteller extraordinaire Jon Krakauer, is one of the most compelling books you could ever read. It chronicles the real-life story of Chris McCandless, a.k.a. Alexander Supertramp, the boy who got so fed up with society that he lit out for Alaska. It ended up getting him killed, but along the way, he learned that we truly do need other people, crazy as they drive us. 

The book was born out of the 1993 story "Death of an Innocent," which became the book Into the Wild, which became the 2007 Hollywood movie of the same name, directed by Sean Penn. 

Now there's a new book out called Back to the Wild, released by McCandless's parents. It's clear that their son's pilgrimage has significantly impacted them, as it did so many others: They traveled back to the bus in celebration of the book's launch. 

There is something undeniably evocative about McCandless and the journey he, and then others who admired him, have taken. It's taken more than just his life: Just last August, a 29-year-old woman died while trying to cross an Alaskan river on her way to the bus where McCandless died. 

Such journeys have stirred up plenty of controversy. Four teenagers got stranded on their way to the bus last July. A couple weeks after that, a couple of hikers—contrary to the McCandless tradition of roughing it alone—called for help via satellite phone after they couldn't cross back over a river. 

It's curious, what we humans will do and why. It's almost like we're all always searching for something. For the McCandlesses among us, that search takes us deep into Alaskan forestry and waters, places that may take our lives but along the way—at least we hope—show us something beyond anything we've ever seen here. 

* * * 

I've fantasized about losing myself in the deep. To go where nobody, not my family or my friends or anyone else, can find me. Can affect me, for good or bad. To go where the only person I know and am is me and myself. And God, to find out Who He really is. 

I hope I can make some such trek some day. I feel like I already have, at least on a small scale.

I recently ventured into another wilderness, or at least a place that's been like wilderness to me. To the South Side of Chicago, where crime and murder are as common as bears and deer in the Alaskan wild. It's not a place where a white kid from the North Carolina suburbs fits in incredibly well. It's a different kind of wild, but there, I found pieces of myself I never would have otherwise. 

Don't fear the wild and the deep, whether it's Alaska or Roseland. Embrace it. Be wise and be cautious. For instance, the first time I went through Roseland, I went with a giant of a man who carried three blades and a Glock under the seat of his car. That has a way of getting you comfortable with a place. But I went back, alone, the next day. We need to experience things if we want to grow. And if we don't want to grow, what are we really trying to do with this life? 

That's why the story of Chris Alexander Supertramp McCandless means so much. Arrogant and narcissistic and confused as McCandless was when he began, his search and his passion were pure. They were born out of a desire to understand. This led to death at age 24 or 25, but in death he learned the truth about life: That really, ultimately, it's not about other people far and beyond ever being about ourself.

Sometimes this means giving our all to help someone else. But other times it also means making the most out of the opportunities we have, yes, for ourself. Because there are other people who have loved us and supported us and carried us there, and to forsake the paths they've helped us forge is more selfish than robbing a bank. It's throwing to the wayside the love and outpouring of soul invested in us by others. 

That's what we can't forget. McCandless, it seems, did. I'm not at all condemning the guy, or harshing on his quest. Quite the opposite: He sought most—with the education his parents gave him—to find the truth in life. He didn't mean to die along the way, at least not physically, and certainly not literally. 

But of course, there are consequences to everything. In the end, McCandless accepted that. In his final moments, he left a final message that I hope spoke to his parents the way I would think any parent would hope to be spoken to: "I have had a happy life ..."