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ut hasn’t tried a dozen hours alone. I once embarked on a three-day solo wilderness trip but encountered a<br />
pair of hikers and stopped to chat, so my record is around forty-eight hours. A few accomplished explorers<br />
I know have gone a week. To meet someone who’s f<strong>in</strong>ished a month would be extraord<strong>in</strong>ary.<br />
Chris Knight, with his thousands upon thousands of days alone, was an unfathomable outlier. His feat<br />
goes so far beyond anyone else’s physical or mental limit that it rearranges our notion of <strong>the</strong> possible. But<br />
<strong>the</strong> truth is that Knight was out <strong>the</strong>re every one of those w<strong>in</strong>ters, and what he did <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> cold was both<br />
prosaic and profound.<br />
He suffered. When he ran out of propane and food, he often became “cold, cold, really cold.” Such cold<br />
is often called m<strong>in</strong>d-numb<strong>in</strong>g, but he was aware of it always. He called it “physical, emotional,<br />
psychological pa<strong>in</strong>.” His body fat was eaten from with<strong>in</strong>, his stomach begged. He sensed <strong>the</strong> nearness of<br />
death. Yet he refused to light a fire or leave a traceable footpr<strong>in</strong>t.<br />
When <strong>the</strong> situation passed some po<strong>in</strong>t of dire, he monitored <strong>the</strong> wea<strong>the</strong>r reports on <strong>the</strong> radio and waited<br />
for a snowstorm to approach. With <strong>the</strong> exception of a few year-round homes, which Knight never touched,<br />
<strong>the</strong> area was mostly deserted <strong>in</strong> w<strong>in</strong>ter, and he knew which seasonal cab<strong>in</strong>s likely still had food. With <strong>the</strong> last<br />
of his energy he’d slog through <strong>the</strong> forest, cut across <strong>the</strong> frozen pond, hit one of <strong>the</strong>se cab<strong>in</strong>s, and return as<br />
<strong>the</strong> flakes started to fall, eras<strong>in</strong>g his tracks.<br />
He could not always ma<strong>in</strong>ta<strong>in</strong> an impassive neutrality. Sometimes a t<strong>in</strong>y th<strong>in</strong>g wormed <strong>in</strong>to <strong>the</strong> deep spot<br />
where he’d stashed his emotions. Once, as he was listen<strong>in</strong>g to <strong>the</strong> radio, a blizzard swirl<strong>in</strong>g around him, <strong>the</strong><br />
school closures were announced. His old high school was mentioned. Just a moment on <strong>the</strong> radio, but it<br />
brought back a flood of memories. And Knight felt his chest clench with melancholy. How had his life come<br />
to this?<br />
He occasionally missed his family. “I suppose a more subtle answer would be I missed some of my<br />
family to a certa<strong>in</strong> degree,” he allowed. For long stretches, family didn’t exist <strong>in</strong> his thoughts. <strong>The</strong>n a<br />
memory would be triggered and <strong>the</strong>y’d be alive <strong>in</strong> his head. He missed his sister, Susanna, <strong>the</strong> most. She’s<br />
<strong>the</strong> sibl<strong>in</strong>g closest <strong>in</strong> age to Knight, a year younger, and has Down syndrome. “She was <strong>the</strong> one I spent most<br />
of my childhood with,” he said.<br />
<strong>The</strong>re were times, he admitted, when he wept, but he provided no fur<strong>the</strong>r details. Sporadically, especially<br />
dur<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> first decade, <strong>the</strong> idea of quitt<strong>in</strong>g his seclusion entered his m<strong>in</strong>d. He had a system <strong>in</strong> place. He<br />
kept a whistle <strong>in</strong> his tent, and if he ever became too weak to move, he knew that if he blew on it <strong>in</strong> susta<strong>in</strong>ed<br />
sequences of three, <strong>the</strong> high-pitched sounds would carry across <strong>the</strong> water and help might eventually come.<br />
After a while, though, he resolved that he wouldn’t use <strong>the</strong> whistle. He made a firm decision that he was<br />
not go<strong>in</strong>g to voluntarily emerge from <strong>the</strong> trees. Civilization was three m<strong>in</strong>utes away, but he never went<br />
except to steal. “I was prepared to die out <strong>the</strong>re,” he said.