I Was Dimly Aware That I Might

Antarctica Has This Mythic Weight. It Resides In The Collective Unconscious Of So Many People, And It Makes This Huge Impact, Just Like Outer Space. It's Like Going To The Moon.

Achieving The Summit Of A Mountain Was Tangible, Immutable, Concrete. The Incumbent Hazards Lent The Activity A Seriousness Of Purpose That Was Sorely Missing From The Rest Of My Life. I Thrilled In The Fresh Perspective That Came From The Tipping The Ordinary Plane Of Existence On End.

Getting To The Top Of Any Given Mountain Was Considered Much Less Important Than How One Got There: Prestige Was Earned By Tackling The Most Unforgiving Routes With Minimal Equipment, In The Boldest Style Imaginable.

To The Contrary: His Life Hummed With Meaning And Purpose. But The Meaning He Wrested From Existence Lay Beyond The Comfortable Path: Mccandless Distrusted The Value Of Things That Came Easily.

I'm Going To Paraphrase Thoreau Here... Rather Than Love, Than Money, Than Faith, Than Fame, Than Fairness... Give Me Truth.