Beyond Adventure - An Inner Journey

This book looks beyond the excitement of adventure and, through the author's own inner journey, investigates the relationship of man and nature. It draws lessons for the modern world, and will appeal to all who love the outdoors and believe there is a unique wisdom to be found in the wild.

Rock climbing and mountaineering; white-water canoeing and surfing; sea kayaking and small-boat offshore sailing – at different times, like attraction to a magnet, each of these activities dominated my life. Whilst each activity had its own specific and compelling attractions, in a sense they were all the same. They were all forms of physical exercise and adventure in the outdoors. Each could bring feelings of elation and success, a sense of awe at being in wild and imposing places, a sense of freedom and, occasionally, the fear of disaster.

Determined to perform at as high a level as possible, I committed myself to the demands of each activity in turn. Whilst I greatly enjoyed each of these environments, I was also driven by egotistical need for self-respect and the respect of others. I wanted to be a success, and was prepared to devote my energies to that end. Nature quickly taught me that the strength of a chain was in its weakest link and I soon realised that there would be demands psychologically as well as physically. I had to learn to be relaxed in the inevitable moments of stress. I had to overcome fear in order to perform with maximum efficiency. I knew that I wanted to play on the frontier, near the edge of my capabilities, because that would bring the greatest reward. At the same time I knew that this frontier was often the thinnest of lines between triumph and disaster. There was at times an obvious need to be acutely safety-conscious if I wished to survive.

Whilst I was involved with, if not consumed by, these activities, I became increasingly aware that I had an intense curiosity about human existence. At university, for example, my enthusiasm was not for history as such, but for understanding gnomic statements such as Rousseau’s, “Man was born free, and everywhere he is in chains”(5) or William James’s, “The problem of man is to find a moral substitute for war.”(6) Underlying this curiosity, I now suspect, was the search for an elusive state of happiness. I was by nature a less-than-content human being, and perhaps for that reason was attracted to dangerous activities. When I read Markings by Dag Hammarskjöld, within this riveting diary of a man under great stress from his post as Secretary to the United Nations, I found the following:

“The longest journey is the journey inwards.”(7)

His use of the word ‘journey’ in the context of exploring and understanding one’s inner self was like finding a diamond. I knew my own adventures affected me inwardly and, in particular, affected what I valued in life and what seemed really worthwhile about my existence. Nevertheless, my inner self seemed somehow separate from my outer actions. Henceforth, I began to see the whole of my life, both inwards and outwards, as a journey. I also began to understand that the inner journey was likely to be the most difficult and yet potentially the most rewarding. How far I could journey within myself would initially depend on the quality of my outer journeys – what I actually did with my life in terms of actions. It was much later that I realised the depth of the journey inwards would depend not just on the quality of my outward actions, but also on how deeply I could reflect upon them in terms of their value in understanding myself.

As I have become older I have come to realise that there is a wonderful mystery about being human, and about how we relate to our surroundings. Each of us is unique, and yet in many fundamental ways, we are the same. I have some insights gained from experience into this puzzle. Unfortunately, I sense also that any substantial and clear explanation is beyond words. But the attempt to express it I feel is worthwhile, in the hope that something I might put forward may be of help to others.

When we journey adventurously in the conventional sense – to climb a mountain or sail across an ocean for example – then the process is comparatively straightforward. The specific objective is decided upon and then the relevant skills and experience are developed and tested in the situation. If one wishes to journey inwards to begin to understand oneself, then the process is likely to be both confusing and complex. To me, it made sense not to try and confront directly this biggest of challenges. It seemed better to reflect first upon my outward actions, and also to try and learn from the experiences of other human beings.

Apart from an eventual desire to understand the values of my own adventures, my working life spent in Adventure Education seemed to demand that I should be able, as clearly and coherently as possible, to justify the use of dangerous activities as a form of learning. This was particularly pertinent after the massive publicity that followed the Cairngorm tragedy of November 1971 in which six young people died. This occurred on the Cairngorm plateau in appalling winter conditions under the aegis of a qualified instructor. Understandably there were shockwaves in the world of education, in Britain and beyond. Those in charge of adventure pursuits and young people were forced to reappriase their activities. Whatever the values of this type of education, I knew there existed the possibility of death or serious injury to someone for whom I was ultimately responsible. Being a Warden of an Outdoor Centre committed to adventure for boys and girls, that responsibility was made abundantly clear. The human being is fallible and there were some situations and conditions in the outdoors where the risk could not be justified for beginners.

In 1984, I wrote The Adventure Alternative.(8) It was an attempt both to clarify and emphasise some of the values that were in the great tradition of human endeavour in the wilderness. In retrospect, it now seems a blurred and unbalanced picture. I was too involved with adventure, and too enthusiastic about its strengths to see its potential weaknesses. I was also, at that time, only beginning to understand the extraordinary potential of what I would term the University of the Wilderness. I know now that it can provide the adventurer with glimpses of profound happiness, of joy, that are the stuff of dreams. Beyond Adventure is an attempt to redress that earlier imbalance.

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(5) Rousseau, J.J. “L’homme est né libre, et partout il est dans les fers.” Du Contrat Social (1762), ch.1. Quoted in The Oxford Dictionary of Quotations. Oxford 1998
See also: The Social Contract and Discourses. Dutton & Dent 1950
(6) James, W. The Varieties of Religious Experience. Fontana 1975
(7) Hammarskjöld, D. Markings, translated by W.H. Auden and L. Sjöberg. Faber & Faber 1975
(8) Mortlock, C. The Adventure Alternative. Cicerone 1984