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My life was shaped by tramping through forests, mountains and deserts. That may be an exceptional thing for someone who grew up in the suburbs of Los Angeles in the latter half of the 20th century, but it is true.
Wrightwood, California, offered a world of adventure for a very lucky suburban kid.
When I was 3–1/2 years old, my little sister Cathie was born with severe cerebral palsy. She would spend her 36-year life in a wheelchair. Recognizing that her handicap would impose certain constraints on our family’s way of life, my parents found a retreat in a mountain community about an hour-and-a-half drive from home in Wrightwood, California. We spent most every weekend at our cabin there, and two glorious weeks each summer. Well into my 20s, I continued to go there, staging epic 20-mile hikes through the rugged terrain of the Angeles National Forest with friends and topping it off with beer soaked nights at a tavern called The Yodler.
Wrightwood was a haven and a hideaway and a grand playground for a kid obsessed with frontier history. I could grab my pellet rifle and head out for hours, sometimes with my dad, but most often by myself, imagining stalking the woods with Kentucky frontiersman Simon Kenton or running the ridges with Jim Bridger. We also got Cathie out into the great outdoors, taking her complicated contraption of a wheelchair out into places where it most certainly — and most wonderfully — didn’t belong.
Deeply imprinted upon my memory is the sound of her peals of delighted laughter as we careened dangerously fast along a paved road to an observatory on a peak west of town.
It was a grand way to grow up. Or to avoid “growing up,” since the training of my imagination never deserted me, and found its way out in a lifetime of studying and writing about frontier history. I still live most deeply in those moments when I jump the reservation and get out “chasing buffalo” as Rullman puts it (with a hat tip to Gus McCrae).
I never knew, growing up, that I was living a life of unacceptable risk and danger…
*
Pity the poor Penn State University Outing Club. The venerable 98-year-old institution has run afoul of the schoolmarms.
As the Pittsburg Post-Gazette reports:
(T)he university will not allow the club to organize and run outdoor, student-led trips starting next semester.
“This is a result,” the announcement said, “of an assessment of risk management by the university that determined that the types of activities in which PSOC engages are above the university’s threshold of acceptable risk for recognized student organizations.”
After a two-month review that did not include consultation with student Outing Club leaders, the university’s offices of Student Affairs and Risk Management made the determination that the hiking, canoeing, kayaking, trail building and camping activities the student-led club has long engaged in are too risky. The club is one of the oldest entirely student-run organizations at Penn State.
“Student safety in any activity is our primary focus,” Lisa Powers, a Penn State University spokeswoman, said in an email response to questions about the school’s assessment.
Too dangerous, kid.
“In addition to the inherent risks found in many of these student activities that occur without fully trained guides or leaders, the behaviors of some students on unsupervised trips have become a concern. These concerns have, at times, included the misuse of alcohol in the context of already risky activities. This mix is obviously dangerous.”
She said the groups are being “disbanded” in their current high-risk model, where students in the club are able to lead trips, and re-organized to provide more oversight by staff in the university’s Outdoor Adventures program.
The students involved are calling bullshit on the alcohol misuse charge, and anyway, the thrust of the action is sending the message that young adults aren’t actually adults. This is transparently a liability issue, and bureaucratic risk-management for the university. And it’s pathetic.
“misuse of alcohol”
I was going to make a snarky comment about frat houses but a quick Google search shows Penn State have recently been cracking down on drunken Greek revelry. So, this nanny attack on the Outing Club could be part of that overreacting overreach.
I love the sound of alliteration in the morning!
As was pointed out over on FRONTIER PARTISANS — nannying or liability ass-covering, either way it reflects a sad state of affairs when young people will not be officially endorsed to get their asses out in the woods.
Also, seems like the right time to (re-)share’
https://drive.google.com/open?id=1yi6XRvZY2KLimxUU1PhXHE-nz_rtm2To
Bill Valenti says
Nice story, Jim. And I was sure the Penn State Outing Club story was from The Onion, but — sadly — it is not. Sigh.…
Stand back, I’m gonna rant.
There is something inherent in the makeup of men (and many women) that needs and craves adventure. It is an essential element of the human condition, as necessary as sleep, food, and shelter. It is a part of growth. And for those individuals, it is essential to their psychological well-being.
There can be no growth without pain. Did you fall when you were learning to walk or ride a bike? Of course. Did it hurt? Yes. Are you a better, healthier, more mature person because of the pain you suffered? Of course. It was part of the learning and growth inherent in becoming an independent and self-sufficient human being.
A casual study of history will reveal that we would not have the technology, knowledge, or freedoms we do if people hadn’t taken risks. For example, back in the years when our country had an active manned space program, we took risks. People died. Were those risks worth it? I say yes. The came can be said for those who went searching for a new homeland or a wilderness to tame. After all, fortune favors the bold. Sometimes one of the best reason for doing something is because it is dangerous. (Note: there is a difference between dangerous and reckless.)
When we let nannies and soy bois prevent our young people from doing things that have been done all through human history because a bean counter or a lawyer is afraid someone might get hurt, we have reached a sad point in our society. In trying to minimize risk to an institution, Penn State is stifling the learning, growth, and self-discovery that are supposed to be part of the university experience. Instead of helping these students become more well-rounded individuals with a love of nature and conservation, they are sending a message that cowardice is the preferred choice.
The students affected by this decision should form their own private group and continue doing what they were doing. They are adults and don’t need the university’s approval to go camping, hiking, or kayaking. They just need the university’s approval if they want to be a sanctioned student organization on campus. They don’t have to be. They are free to go their own way without the nanny’s approval.
I hope they do.
End of rant.
I applaud this rant.
Lane Batot says
.…and raise you a harangue! I already pecked it out on this same subject over on the Frontier Partisans.…..
Saddle Tramp says
Bill M. & Jordan P. weigh in on this subject:
https://youtu.be/8wLCmDtCDAM
TJ says
Thanks Jim
Mine was the field leading to Sands Beach (“R‑Beach”), starting my solo trips at 11 (falling off bikes, bitten by lizards and snakes, climbing trees, elephant grass-spear / dirt clod fights, surfing and some terrifying encounters with large sea creatures). I admit my own boys are required to run in packs to visit our river bed, but pre cell phone, they had a light, knife, two way radio, pepper spray and walking stick(club).
Perhaps we were a bit more resilient because of it? No judgement and I cannot imagine losing a child to one of our local get to of jail free card recipients. I recall in the late 70’s walking to R — Beach with my little surf bros four deep, ages ranging from 11 — 13. As we walled up a hill through the Eucalyptus groves, a man with his shorts down to his knees approximately thirty feet away, called to us as he exposed himself.
The choice seemed instantly clear to us, especially given our high ground = dirt clod / rock attack. I am pretty sure we hit him once or twice, however the dust created from running, then falling as he tried pulling his shorts up made it hard to confirm. Then we went surfing. No counselors needed and in fact after we told our high school surfing mentors already at the beach, three of them went looking for that guy, sticks in hand.
In 2005, Richard Louv touched on what has now become a “disorder” and resulting in medicated children and disconnected adults.
https://www.amazon.com/Last-Child-Woods-Children-Nature-Deficit/dp/156512605X
Loved the photo, thanks for sharing!
Frontier Justice. Love it.
Breaker Morant says
One of my favorite stories (somewhat related) is from a friend a year older than me. He came home from his first day of Kindergarten (Fall 1971) and his parents were not home. He just figured they were at an auction sale (they were) and he headed off to the barn to start evening chores on their dairy farm.
I also wandered around at free range as a youth. At a church youth camping trip one weekend when I was about 14, I decided to walk around the lake and just took off without thinking anything of it. It turned out that their was a little concern that I may have drowned, but I had mentioned it to one of the guys, so they came looking and I was picked up 3/4 of the way around. Most of the lakeshore was not developed and was not roaded at that time.
A kindergartner who just goes and gets it done is a different kind of human than most are raising these days.
TJ says
I get it, I had many a “why is everybody got that look on their face” moments after returning home from some grand adventure during the 11–15 years.
Saddle Tramp says
Some inspiration from the past that we need a strong dose of more than ever. No moment in time is ever the same, but some patterns prevail. There is never a shortage of critics, but good strong leaders are always in short supply. Critical thing is part of the solution but you have to saddle up too. TR did…
— ST
Via: Red Bluff, CA pointing them north
https://www.brainpickings.org/2018/04/30/theodore-roosevelt-arena-cynicism-critic/?utm_source=Brain+Pickings&utm_campaign=2da75251ed-EMAIL_CAMPAIGN_2018_05_04&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_179ffa2629-2da75251ed-236781977&mc_cid=2da75251ed&mc_eid=d57bf658f4
Lane Batot says
This phenomenon is obviously what Con and Hal Iggulden must’ve been considering when they wrote their marvelous(2007) “The Dangerous Book For Boys”(I think there’s a girls’ version now, too)–“The perfect book for every boy from eight to eighty”–which every true Frontier Partisan SHOULD have in their library. Just sayin’.….And boy howdy, could I write quite the voluminous volume(probably several!) on free-range childhood adventures(especially since the Statue of Limericktashuns is well past on most of it.…..), and the absolutely TRIBAL territorial behavior of the various neighborhood groups that grew up semi-feral around where I lived–and I myself took the feral mindset to a whole ‘nuther level! One of my adolescent goals was to make Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn look BORING by comparison! Much as I loved and was inspired by those Mark Twain anthropological studies on American boyhood.… And though I applaud(and laughed aloud!) at the “rocking” of the undressed interloper mentioned above by TJ, I also recommend having yer children raised and accompanied at all times by a faithful(to them) but mean-assed dog(or two, or three.….)–one reason I feared NO ONE nor NOTHING on my many rambles from toddlerhood on up was my fanatically faithful, protective Dalmation, who literally “cleared the way” ahead of me, like a true Coach Dog should!
The Dangerous Book For Boys was excellent pushback. More of same is needed.
TJ says
Couldn’t agree more! We lost our American Bulldog Mia in 2017 (she died surrounded by her boys) and our new little Bruiser Keva (Gaelic for beautiful), is 12 weeks old and 30+ pounds all head and chest. Ripped my finger open tonight playing with her and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Pig hunter / J — House protector in the making.
Betty says
Let’s see. Fell out of trees. Chronic skinned knees. Hide and seek after dark. Hide and seek on bicycles. Hiked through Texas piney woods and thicket. Canoes on lakes. Stepped on Portuguese Man-o-War tentacles. Played tennis at night till red in the face and sweating, heart banging like a gong. Played softball. Dug out own latrines, cleaned our dirty dishes in the creek sand, chopped wood, put up tents, slept on the ground (in the Girls Scouts when they were scouts), knocked myself out running down a mountain, walked (sometimes ran) all the way downtown to church, to the movies, to school when the bus was too slow, ice skated, rode horses, danced. Graduated summa cum laude from high school, never got around to finishing college, too busy working.
We laugh at millenial snowflakes, but you can be sure they were all born little hellions, too, but got warped by the cradle board of insurance scams and political correctness.
Well said, Betty. Well lived, too.