Living the Wild Life

They got it right when they called the outdoors great. Although it often feels very much like the wilderness is shrinking, I’ve been in enough boonies to know that there still are boonies to be found. With such outlying places comes a certain inevitability of adventure. That’s part of why I think being outdoors is so great.
I might as well admit from the start that I spent a good fifteen years as a hunter. For those of you that dislike such things, you can rest better knowing I’ve turned in my rifle for a camera. For those of you who might appreciate my experiences, you can know that I fed my family alright and got some big ones.
We started each morning before light, drinking cups of instant coffee at the African fire pit more for warmth than to wake up. One particular morning I must have been extra chilled, because I drank a fair share of joe. As luck would have it, that was the only morning we didn’t take any breaks or stops. After six hours of driving in the bush, I was squirming, but I wasn’t about to be the first to ask for a break. I was the only woman in a truck of six men. Right when I thought I couldn’t tough it out, we stopped. The guide had spotted an elephant, and everyone got out their glasses to take a look. We weren’t hunting elephant, but it was the first we’d seen. I was equally amazed, and… I really needed to step out for a minute. The guide gave me a distracted go-ahead, and I dashed away. Little did I know I had dashed into the brush where the elephant intended to go. A couple of minutes later, a rustling of gigantic proportions alerted me to the convergence, and I departed my ground-level WC at a run. My khakis had made it only a bit above my knees as I ran back to the truck, which I could easily make out by the flashing of twelve binocular lenses in the sun. The guys were awfully quiet when I made it back to the vehicle, until I started to giggle. Compared to being squashed by an elephant, exposing myself to a truckload of hunters was the small stuff.
Such experiences change a person. Where before I would have thought about a messy public restroom with “good grief!” I now greet even the messiest with, “A Commode!” I’m more grateful for real coffee, as if that were possible.
Out and about in nature, I think about how elemental our world is. If I needed to make something right there and then, I have sticks, rocks, wood, plants, and dirt. Basically, out of those things plus water and petroleum (with some fire thrown in), we have shaped our world into how we know it today.
Being out for a while reduces me to thinking about what is essential. There isn’t a whole lot that I really need in life: Water, shelter, food, and companionship. Some might argue against this, but having a perceived purpose really isn’t a basic need. I enjoy a life rich beyond having my basic needs met. I fear becoming someone who thinks she needs all the beyond.
Anywhere on the globe, a simple hike with my walking stick gets me into the outdoors frame of mind. For this to work, there are some requirements such as a lack of pavement and relative quiet. I don’t have to go far or be gone long to feel like I’ve connected with something wholesome and primal. The longer treks out of doors tend to bring on realizations of how far away from a natural state we have gotten in everyday modern life. But then on the longer treks, my hunt begins afresh for a manawanalua bush (any shrubbery of sufficient size and density so as to conceal my person.) I guess everyday modern life has its benefits as well.