The Stranger in the Woods_ The - Michael Finkel

More documents

Recommendations

Info

a true hermit. “I can’t explain my actions,” he said. “I had no plans when I left, I wasn’t thinking of anything. I just did it.”
14 Knight actually did have a plan. Or maybe it was the opposite of a plan. Regardless, he had a goal: to get lost. Not just lost to the rest of the world but actually lost in the woods by himself. He carried only rudimentary camping supplies, a few articles of clothing, and a little food. “I had what I had,” he said, “and nothing more.” He left the keys in the car and vanished into the forest. It’s not that easy to get lost. Anyone with basic outdoor skills generally knows which way they’re going. The sun burns west across the sky, and from there it’s natural to set the other directions. Knight knew that he was heading south. He said he didn’t make a conscious decision but felt pulled like a homing pigeon. “There was no depth or substance to the idea. It was at the instinctual level. It’s instinct among animals to return to home territory, and my home ground, where I was born and raised, was that way.” Maine is partitioned into a series of long north-south valleys, the geologic clawmark left by glaciers surging and retreating. Separating the valleys are strings of mountains, now weather-worn and bald-topped like old men, but only a couple of dozen million years ago the Appalachians were mightier than the Rockies. The valley floors at the time of year when Knight arrived were a summer soup of ponds and wetlands and bogs. “I kept largely to the ridges,” Knight said, “and sometimes crossed swamps going from one ridge to another.” He worked his way along crumbled slopes and muddy taiga. “Soon I lost track of where I was. I didn’t care.” Virtually every natural feature in Maine, pond to peak, has a proper name, but Knight saw such titles as human impositions and preferred not to know them. He sought a purity to his retreat beyond all measure. “There were no signs saying, ‘You are here.’ It was either dry land or wet land. I knew where I was but I didn’t know where I was. Oh, I’m getting all metaphysical here, aren’t I?” He was unfettered by the rules of society, king of his own jungle, and alone and lost in the forest—a quilt of dreams and nightmares both. Knight mostly liked it. He’d camp in one spot for a week or so, then head south yet again. “I kept going,” he said. “I was content in the choice I had made.” Content except for one thing: food. He was hungry, and he really didn’t know how he’d feed himself. His departure was a confounding mix of incredible commitment and complete lack of forethought, not all that abnormal for a twenty-year-old. It was as if he went camping for the weekend and didn’t come home for a quarter century. He was an able hunter and angler, but he carried neither a gun nor a rod. He didn’t want to die, at least not then. His idea was to “forage” for food. The wilds of Maine are enchanting to behold and monumentally broad, though not generous. There are no fruit trees. Berries sometimes have a weekend-long season. Without
Page 2:
Also by Michael Finkel True Story:
Page 5 and 6: Contents Cover Also by Michael Fink
Page 7 and 8: In memory of Eileen Myrna Baker Fin
Page 13 and 14: 1 The trees are mostly skinny where
Page 15 and 16: 2 Terry Hughes’s wife nudges him
Page 17 and 18: eyes, and trains the .357 square in
Page 19 and 20: down, hands still locked behind his
Page 21 and 22: truth. Anything else would be wasti
Page 23 and 24: “I took no medications and never
Page 25 and 26: Or them. Nobody knew. Because of th
Page 27 and 28: North Pond hermit, it turns out, wa
Page 29 and 30: 7 I learned about Christopher Knigh
Page 31 and 32: 8 A white envelope arrived in my ma
Page 33 and 34: against the rules of journalism. I
Page 35 and 36: 9 Augusta, Maine, is picturesque bu
Page 37 and 38: East accent. I plowed awkwardly on.
Page 39 and 40: 10 Knight lived in the same campsit
Page 41 and 42: Knight, matching him step for step.
Page 43 and 44: He’d spread a carpet over the mag
Page 45 and 46: It was the kind of total quiet that
Page 47 and 48: to the nature of the electromagneti
Page 49 and 50: something. Chris was smart and frie
Page 51 and 52: 13 But why? Why would a twenty-year
Page 53: including Charles Darwin, Thomas Ed
Page 57 and 58: the sorts of places where it’s ne
Page 59 and 60: their canoe has been borrowed and r
Page 61 and 62: 16 Knight lived in the dirt but was
Page 63 and 64: he was famished for words, he’d s
Page 65 and 66: Knight had a strong distaste for bi
Page 67 and 68: Knight’s camp. He began observing
Page 69 and 70: 18 The only book Knight didn’t st
Page 71 and 72: my winter toilet. Do my business. T
Page 73 and 74: pen name. “Human society has been
Page 75 and 76: do telethons? I hate Jerry Lewis.
Page 77 and 78: fed her, but with Knight she had no
Page 79 and 80: 21 A thousand poets sing of solitud
Page 81 and 82: “psychologically completely out o
Page 83 and 84: 22 Snow melted, flowers bloomed, in
Page 85 and 86: changes is where the brain is funct
Page 87 and 88: His thieving raids became considera
Page 89 and 90: to sing, with his food supplies nea
Page 91 and 92: inherited from her mother, and a co
Page 93 and 94: 25 A side door to the jail swings o
Page 95 and 96: Jail, he’s realized, might not be
Page 97 and 98: 26 Chris’s oldest brother, Daniel
Page 99 and 100: That note, thirty-four words long,
Page 101 and 102: the bright side. The sun will come
Page 103 and 104: 28 A mile down the road, I pull ove
Page 105 and 106:
It’s now just a spot in the woods
Page 107 and 108:
For insight into Knight: Matt Hongo
Page 109 and 110:
Annette Schipf Chris Anderson David
Page 111 and 112:
David and Louise Proulx, whose tiny
Page 113 and 114:
A Note About the Author Michael Fin
show all

The Stranger in the Woods_ The - Michael Finkel

Create successful ePaper yourself

Delete template?

Save as template?