Simplicity, Simplicity
Eric Larsen
29 April 2019 | Crested Butte, Colorado
Since returning from Longyearbyen, I have settled back into family life and the daily adventures of raising a six and four year old. In one sense, the transition is fairly easy. Living in a house, driving a car, sitting at a table... these are things that I have done for decades. It is only when you overlay these against my expedition life do you see any significant contrast (which is stark by the way).
The effortless of modern life always catches me off guard. Often times on my expeditions, I am struggling just to make a few miles of forward progress each day. Sitting in the driver's seat of my car, I turn the key and and step on the gas pedal. It's so easy. Equally crazy, is the amount of 'things' that we surround ourselves with: clothes, bikes, Christmas decorations, plates, There is an inertia to all this that is almost impossible to avoid.
Which is why I like self supported expeditions. On most of my trips, we are carrying everything that we need to live in survive with us on our packs or in a sled - sometimes for several weeks or even months. I often wonder what it would be like if I simply put my polar sled in the middle of my living room and ate only the food and wore only the clothes it could hold. I might look a bit funny picking my son up from school in my arctic parka. And there is no way that any avocados would last for more than a week squashed underneath one of several pairs of shoes I wear each week. I don't eat salad on expeditions for more than a few reasons. The practicality of living my home life like I do on expeditions is marginal at best; regardless, there are a lot of lessons that I try to carry with me.
I've been casually following the Everest season - mostly because many of my friends that I work with either in the Arctic or Antarctic are guides on Everest. Some of my Last Degree North Pole clients are on a seven summits quest as well so it's fun to follow along on their adventures. I think these personal challenges have value on whatever level - whether it be a record-breaking ascent or simply a guided summit.
There is another side to all this however, that warrants a closer look. While not surprising, I have noticed the trend toward 'comfort' on Everest (and many other wilderness experiences and climbs) that has been growing unchecked for quite some time - base camp tents are getting bigger and more deluxe, gourmet meals, wifi and more. Part of this is a throw-back to the siege-style of mountaineering that first allowed Hillary and Norgay to summit Everest. This is simply how you climb a mountain like Everest. Most outfitters say that the amenities allow their clients to rest and recover properly before they start climbing again. While there is no question that it's easier to relax in a huge base camp, the true purpose of all the infrastructure is to support the growing 'business' of adventure.
What does it say about our culture that we take the iconic meaning of something difficult (i.e. Everest) and make it a five star spa-like experience? Why do we we want to remove all the hard things from our lives?
I'm not a curmudgeon - I swear. I fully understand the nature of the industry and the wants and desires of the modern day clientele. But I don't think it has to be the only way. There is value in less. And my challenge for everyone is to consider the alternative. Sure there are places that I go where I am not the expert and I need others to lead the way, but as a guide, I feel that I have a responsibility to educate people on the value of the wilderness experience.
Personally, I have always looked at expeditions as a way to simplify and strip down life to it's bare elements. I spend time in wilderness because I want to understand these places in their basic forms. Adding layers, insulating myself from the weather, decision making or route finding detracts from my experience. There are so many opportunities in life to eat fancy meals and sleep in comfortable beds. But to fall asleep to the sound of silence in the crisp mountain air? More and more these are the exceptions. Why corrupt these moments with the trappings of human civilization?
For those of you who get this far in my blog, I know my words won't have a huge impact. But if feels important for me to say these things regardless. These are my beliefs. And in writing this hopefully it will create an opportunity to examine your own beliefs and preferences. I am no saint in any of this, either. I live in two very different worlds (my expedition world and my normal / family world) that don't always square with one another or my quixotic ramblings.
Thoreau nailed it way before me.
"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion." --?Henry David Thoreau
Image: This way to the big E