I was reminded of the "Into the Wild" story while in Alaska this month, when our tour bus passed a replica of Chris McCandless's infamous school bus in the small town of Healy.
This short documentary does a great job of exploring some of the more disturbing aspects of the story of Chris, who as "Alex Supertramp" sought to live off the grid in the harsh environment of our 49th state.
From the time Chris was young, "we could see he was marching to a different drummer -- and that wasn't gonna change at all," his father says.
The young man went to college, but after graduating donated some $26,000 left from his college fund to charity. He objected to having goals in life, and "wanted to be free when he woke up in the morning."
Like a nomad, with "each day a new horizon," Chris explored the Lower 48 with "Alaska always on his mind," making friends and leaving memories wherever he went, and making a bonfire of his cash before reaching the Stampede Trail.
Chris had had some close calls before he entered the bush, and, as his father put it, "every time you push the envelope and survive, you push the envelope farther, and become less cognizant of the downsides."
Alaska was another story entirely -- "You make a mistake in Alaska, and most likely you're gonna lose your life," says a person who knows the territory.
Chris survived 113 days in the wilderness, in an area relatively sparse in high-calorie sources of nutrition. He shot a moose once, but couldn't preserve the meat, ultimately considering the takedown "one of the greatest tragedies" of his life. When hunger drove Chris to try to return to civilization, he found the previously crossable Teklanika River impossibly deep and wide on the way out. There was no turning back.
Chris "seemed well-educated, but naive about what he was going to get into," we're told. "He just wasn't...prepared."
When Chris's body was discovered in Fairbanks City Transit bus 132, zipped into the sleeping bag his mother had made for him, his mom was left asking "Why?" while his dad was angry.
It had been a chore for Chris to keep in touch with his parents, which was not OK from his dad's perspective (and, as a mom myself, I'd agree). Chris hadn't communicated with his folks for two years by the time his body was found. They'd hired a detective to track Chris down, to no avail.
Chris's mom recalls awakening suddenly on the night in August 1992 that Chris died, sensing he was asking for help. But there was nothing to do but pray.
Chris left a picture of himself holding a farewell note to the world -- "I had a happy life" -- and his mom finds comfort in the image.
"He has no regrets, and he's on his way," she says. "He's on another journey."
This short documentary does a great job of exploring some of the more disturbing aspects of the story of Chris, who as "Alex Supertramp" sought to live off the grid in the harsh environment of our 49th state.
From the time Chris was young, "we could see he was marching to a different drummer -- and that wasn't gonna change at all," his father says.
The young man went to college, but after graduating donated some $26,000 left from his college fund to charity. He objected to having goals in life, and "wanted to be free when he woke up in the morning."
Like a nomad, with "each day a new horizon," Chris explored the Lower 48 with "Alaska always on his mind," making friends and leaving memories wherever he went, and making a bonfire of his cash before reaching the Stampede Trail.
Chris had had some close calls before he entered the bush, and, as his father put it, "every time you push the envelope and survive, you push the envelope farther, and become less cognizant of the downsides."
Alaska was another story entirely -- "You make a mistake in Alaska, and most likely you're gonna lose your life," says a person who knows the territory.
Chris survived 113 days in the wilderness, in an area relatively sparse in high-calorie sources of nutrition. He shot a moose once, but couldn't preserve the meat, ultimately considering the takedown "one of the greatest tragedies" of his life. When hunger drove Chris to try to return to civilization, he found the previously crossable Teklanika River impossibly deep and wide on the way out. There was no turning back.
Chris "seemed well-educated, but naive about what he was going to get into," we're told. "He just wasn't...prepared."
When Chris's body was discovered in Fairbanks City Transit bus 132, zipped into the sleeping bag his mother had made for him, his mom was left asking "Why?" while his dad was angry.
It had been a chore for Chris to keep in touch with his parents, which was not OK from his dad's perspective (and, as a mom myself, I'd agree). Chris hadn't communicated with his folks for two years by the time his body was found. They'd hired a detective to track Chris down, to no avail.
Chris's mom recalls awakening suddenly on the night in August 1992 that Chris died, sensing he was asking for help. But there was nothing to do but pray.
Chris left a picture of himself holding a farewell note to the world -- "I had a happy life" -- and his mom finds comfort in the image.
"He has no regrets, and he's on his way," she says. "He's on another journey."
