Ed Stafford’s expedition down the Amazon was epic. Really epic. At about as far from a microadventure as any expedition has been in recent years. (Guest post by Ed on my site here.)
His latest project is in the same vein. To spend two months alone on a desert island, naked and marooned.
I really enjoyed his book. It has got all the stuff you would expect from a book like this: the struggle to light a fire and the relief upon succeeding; the daily trials and tribulations and revolting food; the loneliness and worry. This is all impressive, vicarious adventure. I would never do this myself. I could never do this myself. So it makes for an intriguing read. I also enjoyed Ed’s coarse language in the photo plates mid-book: that is very Ed!
But what I enjoyed most about Naked and Marooned were the reflective thoughts towards the end of the book. These provide a powerful insight into the adventurer’s mind, the difficulties of being so driven, and the fact that coming home does not equal the end of the trip. Coming home and trying to readjust are hard, but this is not usually featured in books.
There’s not an adventurer I know, at least not one driven to really test themselves, who finds returning from a journey to be all sunshine and butterflies. Adventure books normally end with the hero heading off into the sunset, so I found the epilogue of this book very moving.
As an adventurer myself, though one usually wearing more clothes than Mr Stafford, this sentence sent a shiver of realisation down my spine:
I love the reprobate in me, I love my adventures, I love to push myself hard, and most of all I love to come home again.
Likewise this:
Why was I not content with what I had? What was the underlying restlessness all about? I had to know and I hoped that such an isolated experiment would surely give me the opportunity to turn myself inside out and find some answers.
And this made me cringe slightly within myself:
…there is scope once in a while to have a lot of adventure in your life. But if adventure becomes your life you have lost something. You have become addicted to a thrill, a rush, and have lost sight of balance, responsibility and meaning. You have become a serial escape artist and need to stop and work out what you are escaping from.
Ed writes movingly about why he chose to do this experience for television rather than simply for the heck of it. (It is his job, sure, but it is more than that too. Ed’s television is raw and pure and simple and so much the better for that compared to most manufactured “adventure” television.)
Above all, Ed’s book reminded me to keep seeking big, difficult, personally challenging experiences in life. After all,
We can all get by in life muddling through, doing a bit of unconscious grumbling, and catching fleeting moments of fun and happiness, often with the help of a couple of drinks.
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