Many years ago, whilst scrolling through the 5 over the air TV channels, I settled on a show called Alone in the Wilderness. This was one of the rare occasions when PBS actually came in. Most of the time they were fiddling around with the tower, and the picture was unwatchable, unless you like snow and static. At any rate, the episode I started watching was during their annoying pledge drive and every so often they paused to try and get you to buy, via a “donation”, the DVD’s of this off the grid dude doing off the grid things in the Alaskan wilderness. The guy’s name was Dick Proenneke. The video came from Dick himself (he shot over 3,000 feet of 8mm film), around 1968, and was later edited by his friend, Bob Swerer. The obvious question is, if this guy lived, as advertised, Alone in the Wilderness, how did he charge his cameras? Well, the likely answer is back then, many cameras didn’t need batteries (or they had longer lasting Mercury batteries). Dick’s video camera (a Bolex) was likely a wind-up style.
Oftentimes, I think someone like Dick had it figured out allright. Usually, these thoughts occur when driving home in traffic, through multiple construction zones, or just plodding along only to be cut off by some jackass who then proceeds to execute a brake check maneuver. When things of these sorts occur, the notion of dealing with catching or foraging for food, wandering around, naps on demand, and fixing stuff with your hands, seems like it might be attractive. Then the notion passes, given the thought of sub-zero temperatures, and lack of civilization on just a basic level such as having a radio. The lack of politics might, however, be attractive. So maybe the solution is somewhere in between, surrounding ones self with like minded individuals, and living in a community, as Agent Cooper describes Twin Peaks, where a yellow light means slow down instead of speed up.
In Dick’s case, he became a diesel mechanic, moving further up the Pacific coast, and then eventually working on an Alaskan Navy base. An eye injury nearly cost him his vision, so after that he decided to re-focus his life and visited a cabin from a Navy friend near Twin Lakes, Alaska. He was fortunate enough to live in the existing cabin of the friend while he built his own (during the summers of 67 and 68). Dick used hand tools for the build, foraging for wood and other supplies. Philosopher Dick kept meticulous journals, and the book provides just some of his journal writings, loaded with gems like this one:
“Why worry about something that isn’t? Worrying about something that might happen is not a healthy pastime. A man’s a fool to live his life under a shadow like that. Maybe that’s how an ulcer begins.”
And this one:
“I have found that some of the simplest things have given me the most pleasure. They didn’t cost me a lot of money either. They just worked on my senses. Did you ever pick very large blueberries after a summer rain? Walk through a grove of cottonwoods, open like a park, and see the blue sky beyond the shimmering gold of the leaves? Pull on dry woolen socks after you’ve peeled off the wet ones? Come in out of the subzero and shiver yourself warm in front of a wood fire? The world is full of such things.”
The journal excerpts in this book are an easy read. If you don’t want to invest the time in that, or your library doesn’t have it, Dick’s video clips are readily available online.
Keith, Sam and Proenneke, Richard. One Man’s Wilderness: An Alaskan Odyssey. Alaska Northwest Books. (1999)
