Two days ago, I completed a 12-day, approximately 240-mile (386 km) self-supported hike and float (packrafted about the last 40 miles) sea-to-sea across Iceland from the south coast to a fjord on the north coast. Most of the route was on trails, some on dirt roads, some on river, while a couple of sections were cross country in trailless wilderness (among the highlights). It was mostly amazing, at times challenging, and very uncertain as I had little to no information about most of the route. Iceland has been crossed many times but never by this route as far as I can tell.
My intention was to do a cool trip that tied in with my research work here in Iceland centered in part on conflicts between energy development and conservation as well as issues around roads and wilderness, and similar intersecting topics. This allowed me to gain a lot of first hand familiarity with my main research subject and to learn the land one step or stroke at a time, which is incomparably more intimate than any other form of travel. I intend to integrate my experiences and ample photos from this trip into a published article based on my research. I hope to find an outlet willing to run my article. Stay tuned (it will take many months at least). I also plan to create a great presentation about it that I hope to give at various venues. PS: DISCLAIMER - some sections of this route are extremely dangerous; do not attempt to repeat. Website here.
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"In the wilderness, you have left cyberspace behind in one sense, but not in another. You’re still surrounded by it physically, and it continues to offer itself as a possibility of information and communication. Isn’t it Luddite to refuse the offer altogether? Doesn’t a refusal betray a timid failure to come to terms with technology? And aren’t you drawing an arbitrary line through technology? After all, everything you wear and carry is high tech, the fabrics of your clothing and shoes, the poles of your tent, the cooking utensils, the binoculars, the watch, and the map. There are not only questions of consistency but also questions of ethics. You can get lost or injured in the wilderness. If lost, is it responsible to make the Search and Rescue people pay in toil and time for your precious refusal to carry a GPS device not to mention the anxiety you are causing your beloved when you’re not showing up at the appointed time? Similarly, when someone in your party is injured and immobilized, is it right to jeopardize the person’s health or even life while you’re getting help? Shouldn’t you have some electronic device that would have summoned help quickly and effectively? Information technology might also make your hike more deeply informed and moving. Say you carry a device with a camera; you point it at a particular peak, and an app informs you that this is Chief Mountain where, as James Welch tells us at the beginning of Fools Crow, ‘Eagle Head and Iron Breast had dreamed their visions in the long-ago.’ Is such a device much different from a knowledgeable companion and in fact more reliable and better informed than a human could be (though of course incapable of a conversation)? If such a snapshot makes your trip more valuable, why not ‘one day’ not far in the future wear a pair of spectacles from Google’s Project Glass? It won’t be very different or more obtrusive than the sunglasses you’re wearing now. It responds to voice commands and on request projects fourteen icons on your visual field. If you worry about an impending snowstorm that may blind you on your ascent to Stuart Peak, you can call up the weather forecast. If your worry was unfounded and you made the peak, but took a wrong turn on your descent, you call up a map, and it shows you before your very eyes and in vivid detail where to go to reach your campsite. If you suddenly remember a crucial appointment you should have scheduled, you summon your calendar and record a reminder. If on your way down you come upon a lovely flower, unknown to you, you hold it in your gaze and are told: It’s the Mountain Bog Gentian, and here are its interesting facts. As you approach your camp, there is a high-country sunset of ravishing beauty, just the thing to impress and provoke envy in your colleagues. You take a picture and send it to them. But why not send them a continuous video of your entire hike, fine-grained and in three dimensions, complete with audio? In fact on their giant plasma screen with perfect stereo sound, they can share your entire experience, a better experience in fact since they won’t have to suffer your chills and exhaustion and can fast-forward through all the tedious part of hiking and camping. Come to think of it, why not just stay home and rent the perfect wilderness hike video? If exhaustion has to be part of the experience, you can watch it while doing stairs on your stair climber machine. I have traced a trajectory from the reasonable via the plausible to the laughable. It shows us how seemingly inescapable, continuous, and seductive the culture of technology is. You enter the wilderness with reasonable moral concerns, follow the logic of technology, and end up in the gym, watching a screen. It seems that any line you may draw across the trajectory is arbitrary, including the legal line between wilderness and non-wilderness." 1 “Technology as a way of taking up with reality has put the power of technological information in the service of radical disburdenment. At the limit, virtual reality takes up with the contingency of the world by avoiding it altogether. The computer, when it harbors virtual reality, is no longer a machine that helps us cope with the world by making a beneficial difference in reality; it makes all the difference and liberates us from actual reality.” 2 1 Albert Borgmann in The Force of Wilderness Within the Ubiquity of Cyberspace (AI & Society, 2017) 2 Borgmann, Holding On to Reality: The Nature of Information at the Turn of the Millennium. p. 183. Images from•hiking.org/2015/09/27/the-gadget-hiker/
•https://www.gettyimages.com/detail/photo/android-red-dawn-royalty-free-image/1248714443 •https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PyFN_FYwqvc •https://www.reddit.com/media?url=https%3A%2F%2Fi.redd.it%2Fmpqu13erce611.jpg •https://payload374.cargocollective.com/1/16/527053/9780406/--illustrations-02-LevelUp-05_800.png •https://www.pinterest.com/pin/670121619531984065/ •https://i.ytimg.com/vi/s4SiDIi_gfc/maxresdefault.jpg This is a very interesting finding by another Dr. Dunn and her colleague. It sheds critical light on a longstanding debate about to what extent ancient human presence in North America was benign. A major talking point of constructivist, anti-wilderness thinkers is that large-scale human-induced fire has long been a part of North American landscapes and so "wilderness" (they like to scare quote it) is an unjust myth. There is a grain of truth to this and it is undeniable that the indigenous people of North America (and elsewhere) have been subjected to many injustices. Nevertheless, the basic anti-wilderness position and argument, which includes those relying on human-induced fires is quite wrong. First, because for countless millions of years prior to the quite recent (geologically and evolutionarily speaking) arrival of humans on this continent, wilderness was the basic condition here in a Pleistocene bonanza of large megafauna. And second, as this study reveals, because humans were likely integral to the widespread extinction of many species and thus, while it IS the case that human-induced fire was widespread (though by no means ubiquitous - another fallacy in the constructivist argument) for a decent length of time (let's say 14,000 years more or less), it was destructive in many ways. Thus it does not follow that it is a good thing and SHOULD have been a part of this landscape. Regardless, it is a necessary work in progress to do right by the indigenous people of this continent even if their ancestors are implicated in ecological destruction (as no human society is likely immune from). And it is also the case that since these early extinctions, the cultural development of North American indigenous peoples, including land management practices, spiritual connections, and ethical systems, has become something admirable in many ways due to learning from past mistakes, so this revelation doesn't take away from this. Just as we can appreciate the land management practices, spiritual connections, and ethical systems encapsulated in the ethical and practical innovation of wilderness in the contemporary context.
![]() I rarely watch television, and if I do, I make a superhuman effort to avoid advertisements. I happened though to catch a few of the recent Stanley Cup games in a Denver restaurant in which I controlled neither the channel nor the volume, and one commercial for a Toyota 4Runner stood out to me. It featured said machine (shiny and new of course) blasting up roads in a natural setting, with a deep male voice narrating something or other, and generic guitar riffs in the background. It culminated with the 4Runner at a scenic view with the massive words “Keep it Wild” plastered across the screen overtop the vehicle and scenery. After some internet searching, I discovered that Toyota has been running this campaign for around 10 years, if not more. I have no specific beef with Toyota (well, besides their financing of Big Lie supporting politicians and mixed environmental record). I actually own a Toyota—a 2000 Tacoma to be exact—a real truck if there ever was one. It’s less than ideal in terms of gas mileage and for city driving (I try to drive it as little as possible, choosing to bike, bus, and carpool instead), but it delivers for camping and getting into the mountains. I suppose that is the point of the ad campaign. Nevertheless, Toyota’s slogan sits somewhere between irresponsible and insulting. If the wild is anything, it is beyond the limits of motorized access. To be clear, the wild is in a sense everywhere—the weeds in your driveway, the moon looming above a city skyline, the hummingbird flitting by your window—each are wild things that all of us experience every day. But the real stuff—intact landscapes where a variety of creatures, large and small (including predators), can live their lives more or less as they have for eons with minimal human interference and influence—and, once entered by humans on their own two legs or with paddle in hand or on horseback, know that this is a realm apart from their usual world—a place that commands respect in part because it is dangerous and is not theirs to command—a place that overwhelms sense and sensibility with an order apart. More practically speaking, wilderness means in part a specific form of land designation that legally bars road development and mechanized and motorized intrusion. The 1964 Wilderness Act was motivated largely by the threats that these created to the last remaining undeveloped federal lands—usually in the most rugged mountains or most remote deserts. I for one am bounteously grateful for the foresight of those over 50 years ago to leave some places protected as such—a respite from the noise, emissions, and consumptive ease of the everyday. Presently, around 2% of all the land in the “lower 48” is protected as wilderness. The rest is within striking distance of a road and otherwise converted for human uses. But even with a variety of protections in place against motorized incursion, it is often regarded by land management professionals as an ongoing threat to Wilderness and other public lands, though not among the largest threats to Wilderness. The late environmentalist and author Edward Abbey famously railed against “Industrial Tourism” in the National Parks in his best-known work, Desert Solitaire, arguing among other things that the experience is diminished by being confined to an automobile: “A man [or you know whoever] on foot, on horseback or on a bicycle will see more, feel more, enjoy more in one mile than the motorized tourists can in a hundred miles...Those who are familiar with both modes of travel know from experience that this is true; the rest have only to make the experiment to discover the same truth for themselves.” More important than the quality of the experience of nature is the pressing need to increase the size and interconnectedness of protected landscapes to stymie and reverse biodiversity loss. This will certainly entail decreasing road access in some areas. While slowing climate change (including its profound impacts on wild nature) requires decreasing fossil fuel consumption, which will necessitate—among many other things—slowing the production and dissemination of personal vehicles powered by the internal combustion engine. It is therefore more than a little Orwellian that an automobile company in an SUV ad should help itself to language to which it is totally unentitled. Toyota’s slogan undoubtedly sells 4Runners, but it certainly doesn’t “Keep it Wild.” #wild #wilderness #TOYOTA #keepitwild It is clear that the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge Coastal Plain ought to be protected as designated Wilderness. I have done my own journey through the Refuge, including through the contested Coastal Plain. Here is a film worth checking out focused on the importance of the area and here is the website of a fellow adventurer and storyteller.
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Chris Dunn, PhD
Researcher, writer, explorer*, photographer, thinker. Wrestling with nature, culture, technology. Archives
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*When I use the term "exploration", I mean it in a personal sense (discovery for myself, or at a unique moment in time [everywhere after all--even crowded cities--endlessly await rediscovery--by new eyes and in new moments]), not in an absolute sense. With few exceptions (notably Antarctica), almost everywhere on earth has had other people around for a long time (though to varying degrees - high mountain tops or places like the interior of the Greenland Ice Sheet for instance were far less visited and populated, and undoubtedly at least some pockets of the earth were never visited or populated). It is an enlightening experience though when on an isolated ridge in what feels like the middle of nowhere to wonder if anyone has set foot there but never knowing for sure. What is significant is that the landscape itself is left in such a condition that it isn't evident. Some places ought to be kept that way.
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