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Marius Moldvaer

Marius Moldvaer


Marius Moldvaer (b. 1985, Aurland, Norway) is a visual artist with a BFA from The National Academy of Art, Department of Photography, Bergen, Norway, and a Master ́s degree in Critical Theory and Creative Research from The Pacific Northwest College of Art, Portland, OR where his work is conducted on the intersection between practice and theory. Through mediums such as textile, photography, sculpture and writing, and formats such as exhibitions, lectures, and publications Moldvaer construct’s paradigms that cut cross multiple disciplines and ideas to interfere with, or disrupt linear narratives and set history, where knowledge, experience, and landscape continually osculates between personal stories, history, and collective memory.

Project Description: The Construction of Christopher McCandless

In August 1992 the decomposed body of Christopher McCandless was discovered in an abandoned bus in Alaska. McCandless would become the protagonist, and the life he had lived during the two previous years of his journey would be the raw material for Jon Krakauer's 1996 novel Into the Wild, and Sean Penn's major motion picture of the same name, from 2007. McCandless' two-year odyssey traveling through the U.S., Mexico, and up to Alaska, along with the writings of Krakauer, are the keystones to the Construction of Christopher McCandless, a construction that enables this story and its adjacent stories to become one part of a larger narrative arch, disclosing a set of mentalities rather than one young man's entry into the wild. Christopher McCandless' narrative began with his own journey and death in Alaska, the Construction of McCandless on the other hand was made conceivable through Krakauer's novel, Penn's film, through Carine McCandless' biography, and the myriad articles, testimonials, and web resources devoted to his odyssey; in addition, The construction of McCandless includes a visual narrative consisting of McCandless' own photographs, Penn's film, the McCandless family photographs—along with the visual materials made by those who follow or are inspired by McCandless' odyssey, both compelling and banal. Together with the written sources, this expansive visual project informs and expands the idea of McCandless; for after his death, McCandless' odyssey did not remain an unknown and singular incident.  Because of the continued and unabating interest in his story, it demands to be placed within a broader context of ideas that stretch from the cultural values concerning the wild, of escape, of home, of representation, of youth, and of belonging. These ideas that are already manifested in literature—a large part of which McCandless read during his travel—and that are again reignited and utilized within the construction of McCandless enabling the construction to be understood within an expanded framework of thought.

Beginning in my twenties

I was in my early twenties, it was summer, and I was so young that when my phone broke, when the internet was cut off, and the doorbell to the apartment building I was living in stopped working, I didn't bother to fix these things. In a very modern sense, I was completely cut off from the city I lived in by my own choice and doing. If I wanted to see my friends I had to go to their houses to see if they were home or; if they weren’t, I would go to the park to read and wait for them to return. I was given Into the Wild by a friend, read it in the park, borrowed that same friend's car for three days and drove out to the countryside, slept under a green tarp and continued reading Into the Wild, preparing coffee over an open fire. Haphazardly, I wrote some lines in a note book, tore off the cover of Into the Wild and sent it to a friend; I had crossed out the title on the first page and written «the wild is not only where the trees grow.» I didn't pay much attention to either the note, the scribbled page, or the now torn-up copy of Into the Wild; I put the book away in a box, and these mundane objects were all but forgotten as I returned to the city where I bought a new phone, and paid for my Internet to be turned back on. Maybe the book inspired this action, maybe I was inspired by how Christopher McCandless left all is earthly possessions and set out on an odyssey across the U.S, Mexico, and up to Alaska, maybe it was all the people who had followed him, retraced his steps, maybe it was Jon Krakauer's writing, and maybe, it was all of the above. Then again, I might just have gotten bored, being secluded in the city. 

            It wasn't until years later that I realized that the rendition of McCandless' journey in Into the Wild and my own naive, three-day recreation of it had not escaped me, but rather subconsciously, they had served as a catalyst for thoughts and projects directly influenced by McCandless' story; projects that encompassed the broader themes of walking, pilgrimage, and landscape. Later, when I included a physical copy of Into the Wild in an exhibition, together with a walking stick made during a walk on a mountain in China, along with Tibetan souvenirs, I realized that perhaps I had been unwilling—or unready—to confront the influence Into the Wild had on this project and the projects that came before it. Looking back, I invented reasons to justify the avoidance of McCandless' actions, avoiding to critically engage with his actions and my own connections to them. And, the truth is that perhaps I feared what acknowledging Into the Wild as the source of inspiration would demand of me; that is, it would demand that my own story would have to be included into, not only the projects explicitly dealing with McCandless, but my own space within McCandless’ narrative. Perhaps I feared becoming, or being perceived, as just another empty character following the paths of someone else, performing a fanlike tribute to another’s more noble actions; was I just simply a silly young dreamer in his twenties, avoiding the realities of everyday life? To consider taking the story of McCandless as a starting point, such a project would require me to move beyond—or outside—the simplistic dichotomy of «He's Crazy/he's my idol.» I would have to come to terms with the story in all its complexities, with McCandless' actions, while contributing something of my own, my own thoughts, questioning these thoughts, and through these endeavors be able to see the story and myself as parts of a collective contemporary mindset. 

            The Construction of Christopher McCandless takes as its starting point the photographs of Christopher McCandless, his self portraits, edited and published in Back to the Wild by his parents, which form the basis of my own restagings traveling through the central and western United States. The project also include restaged stills from Sean Penn's film, the imaginary travels of the people who were inspired by McCandless, including two who died; Johnathan Croom in Riddle, Oregon, and Dustin Self outside Steens Mountain in Oregon, and my own experience retracing these narratives. Similarly, the written material is a reflections on not only McCandless, but the construction as a whole, where it attempts to connect McCandless’ story, those who follow, and my own travels to a set of larger, overarching themes and mentalities in contemporary society. In the photographs and texts there are no separations between the visual sources and narrative materials; rather, my intent is to merge these sources into one grand narrative. Through this, I emphasize not one particular person or action, but I move seamlessly between them to reveal a visual world that discloses McCandless' story as one part of a complex system of thought that enabled the Construction of Christopher McCandless from the very beginning.

Where Young Men Go 


Ten days and nights of freight trains and hitching Bring him to the Great White North.  No longer to be poisoned by civilization He flees, and walks alone upon the land to become LOST IN THE WILD.

                                                                              —Christopher McCandless


How do you think Chris lived with being all alone out in the wild?  He lived on a bus he found abandoned in the wild, how do you think he felt day to day? Did he miss home?

                                                               —Bcarver23, “Into the WildForum


McCandless entered the wilderness in April 1992 in search of meaning. Most writing about McCandless has misread the wilderness he entered, thinking it was a national park with defined borders and untouched trees.  If McCandless, the writing about him, and the myriad reenactments of his actions share a longing for meaning, then could the place, the wilderness, be where that meaning is manifested?  However, the wilderness is not simply a physical place; the wilderness that McCandless and his followers yearn for is greater. First, the actions by McCandless and his followers do not mark an attempt to return to a pre-pastoral lifestyle. Second, the questions sparked by his story go beyond the idea of wilderness, as simply a physical destination. While I do not offer in this thesis a complete history of the wilderness, I do draw from its rich history, juxtaposing it with the actions of McCandless and his followers. My emphasis throughout will be on the concept of  the wilderness as a part of a larger cultural framework, as opposed to treating it within its own cultural paradigm, for example, environmentalism. Furthermore, the discussion will expand to encompass the idea of place in general, how we construct the places we inhabit, the meanings that are imbued within places, and, finally, what it means to enter a place.          

            This expanded view of the wilderness is not new, and it is well articulated by Laura Feldt, the editor of Wilderness in Mythology and Religion:  Approaching Religious Spatialities, Cosmologies, and Ideas of Wild Nature:“ Wilderness in mythology and religion is a space of encounter—between the human self and the supernatural other, and between humans and a natural alterity.”[1]  Similarly, Joy Porter, professor of indigenous history at the University of Hull in England, points out the difference between Native American and Western views of the wilderness in the preface of her book Native American Environmentalism:  Land, Spirit, and the Idea of Wilderness:“ Intellectually, Indian approaches to land or place tend to see it as spaces invested with meaning through lived experiences and as something defined by its construction rather than its borders.”[2]

            Applying the ideas of Feldt and Porter, the questions raised by the actions of McCandless and his followers transcend traditional conception and point toward an expanded meaning of place and an individual’s place in a larger cultural entity. Going further, Porter explicitly discusses the connection between McCandless’s actions and an expanded understanding of the wilderness. In the chapter “Future Directions into and out of the Wild” Porter offers her critique of McCandless and the way he perpetuates the common misunderstanding of what the wilds in Native American terms are:  “In sum, McCandless took himself to lands that in their own way are as full of human politics and human influence as his Virginia suburban home.”[3] She continues:  “His desire to learn from nature and to escape from what is stifling about western society was inconvertibly a wholesome impulse, but wholesale rejection of society and ill-prepared immersion in nature as an acutely harsh self-imposed challenge is ultimately sterile and narcissistic folly.”[4] Porter’s perspective is one grounded in an environmentalist claim to the wilderness and a belief that the Native American understanding of wilderness has been ignored. Her critique aside, she also emphasizes that the wilderness McCandless entered was not just a neutral physical location, but a space inhabited by spiritual and cultural values of its own. The wilderness in the McCandless story, and in subsequent reenactments, evokes Leo Marx’s idea of a cultural symbol. In other words, the wilderness they all entered symbolizes a cultural phenomenon, not merely a place understood through history or environmentalist terms. In order to fully understand McCandless and his followers, we must understand the wilderness as a set of cultural values and thoughts, rather than simply as a physical place. 

            In the introduction to the fourth edition of Wilderness and the American Mind, Roderick Frazier Nash, professor emeritus of history and environmental studies at the University of California, Santa Barbara, clarifies the concept of wilderness, stating a very obvious fact that is often overlooked:  “[C]ivilization created wilderness. For nomadic hunters and gatherers, who represented our species for most of its existence, "wilderness" had no meaning. Everything natural was simply habitat, and people understood themselves to be part of a seamless living community. Lines began to be drawn with the advent of herding, agriculture and settlement. Distinctions between controlled (domesticated) and uncontrolled animals and plants became meaningful, as did the concept of controlled space: corrals, field and towns.”[5] Nash expands on this point, stating that “[t]he intellectual consequence was the application of the concept of 'wild' to those parts of nature not subject to human control.”[6] Nash’s concept is quite clear: Civilization created wilderness. If we connect this idea to the work of American ecological philosopher Max Oelschlaeger, then the dialectic between civilization and the wilderness also becomes clear: “So viewed, the destruction of things wild and free will entail the collapse of any civilization that rests upon them, insofar as this thesis is correct, then the modern project, which has long promised the total humanization on the earth’s surface is paradoxically destined to fail through its own success.”[7]

            In his book The Idea of Wilderness, Oelschlaeger traces the concept of the wilderness from the Paleolithic to the postmodern age, where he places wilderness within the human psyche. He emphasizes the importance of a prehistoric understanding of the wilderness, one based on myth and a deep connection to and dependence on nature. Describing how these myths have survived to the present, Oelschlaeger asserts that they make the foundation for our understanding of wilderness. Oelschlaeger and Nash both argue for an expanded understanding of wilderness. Nash does this through cultural and historic analyses and Oelschlager through a new reading of history. This rereading of history is indispensable to an expanded understanding of wilderness.

            The first widespread written account where Nash’s separation of civilization and wilderness is evident appears in the Bible, specifically in the book of Genesis, where wilderness lies outside the Garden of Eden.  Wilderness is the place of unknown evil, to which Adam and Eve are banished after the Fall. This initial representation of the wilderness as evil, outside of society, remained the predominant view from pastoral times up to the Romantic era, in the mid-nineteenth century. A fear of the wilderness must have been especially dominant in the minds of the first settlers of the New World, who faced a massive landscape that became something they had to conquer in order to build a society distinct from it.[8] In the Romantic era, new ideas of wilderness were fostered in Europe and carried over to the New World, where they were adopted into the intellectual circles. During this period, there was a significant shift: previously, the wilderness was seen as evil and society was seen as good; now, the wilderness came to be seen as good and society evil—or more accurately, corrupted. This was a reaction against the Enlightenment's fixed notions about life and its belief in scientific advances. During the Romantic era, there was no outspoken or shared political goal, but that is not to say that there were no political thoughts driving the Romantic movement forward. Inherent in the Romantic reaction toward the Enlightenment were political thoughts that have survived up to the twenty-first century.[9]  

            This idea of Romanticism is also evident in Marx’s Machine in the Garden when he points out the importance of Blake and his contemporaries “in quickening the massive shift in point of view which was to be called the romantic movement. Just how important they were is difficult to say.”[10] This shift toward a more positive way of seeing the wild and wilderness was predominated, not only as frontier Romanticism in the United States, but also in Europe. In her book Wanderlust, writer, historian, and activist Rebecca Solnit writes extensively on how our ability to walk changes how we see the world. Solnit writes in the chapter entitled “Path out of the Garden,” about the shift in “walking-culture” from a pastime that took place within parks and city squares to one that was enacted in nature and the wild; in other words, a Romantic conception of walking.  The best known Romantic walkers were the siblings William and Dorothy Wordsworth. They stood at the forefront of the Romantic era, when walking in nature became a cultural experience. Walking for walking’s sake, they led the way for a love of the wilderness, not only for the scenery but also for cultural contemplation:

We tend to consider the foundation of our culture to be natural, but every foundation had builders and an origin—which is to say that it was a creative construction, not a biological inevitability . . . the eighteenth century created a taste for nature without which William and Dorothy Wordsworth would not have chosen to walk long distances in midwinter and to detour from their already arduous course to admire waterfalls . . . walking is natural, or rather part of a natural history, but choosing to walk in the landscape as a contemplative, spiritual, or aesthetic experience has a specific cultural ancestry.[11]

            From the Romantic era up to the present day, there has been an oscillation between a love of wilderness and a fear of it. These two ideas are evident in the stories of wild children, or feral children, beginning with Romulus and Remus—twins who were brought up by wolves and who went on to found Rome—continuing up to contemporary accounts of wild children all over the world, from India, through Europe, and in the United States. Two of the most famous stories about wild children in Europe were those of Kaspar Hauser and the Wild Boy of Aveyron; the unifying factor within these tales is the fascination and fear of these children, emotions that also speak to an inherent fear and fascinationwith the wilderness. When Kaspar Hauser entered Nuremberg in 1828, people in the city instantly questioned where this boy came from, who his parents were, and why he couldn't speak. Kaspar Hauser became the child of Europe—in a somewhat Rousseauian sense—surrounded by mystery and enormous interest, but also fear. The subject has been written about extensively, and adapted into screenplays: The Enigma of Kaspar Hauser by Werner Herzog in 1974, and The Wild Child by François Truffautin 1970.[12]  In both films, we are faced with the wild children’s entry into society, but the enigma of how they ended up in the wild is never revealed. In both the accounts of Herzog and Truffaut, two parallel views of the wild children are portrayed, one that views them as pure humans, without language or ill intentions and second—especially in Herzog's 1974 film—as feared, inhuman savages. In both films, it is striking how the townspeople desperately try to teach the children what it means to be a human. At the same time, the children are perceived and protected as pure, innocent, and uncorrupted by society. As Jeffrey Moussaieff Masson writes in the introduction to Lost Prince:  The Unsolved Mystery of Kaspar Hauser: “ But Kaspar Hauser represented an example from nature itself. He was what natural man looked like. Was it good or bad? Rousseau’s advice was ‘do not expose his eyes at the outset to the pomp of courts, the splendor of the theatre. Do not take him to the circles of the great, to brilliant assemblies’(Èmile, p. 222) . . . as Rousseau believed, man was born essentially good and was only corrupted by socialization.”[13]  The link between the accounts of the wild children and McCandless’s accounts is the fascination with the wild and the people who dare enter it; likewise, the bystander fears both the wild and those who enter it. As we desire to surrender to the wild and the natural, we seem simultaneously to avoid and fear those who do.

            A similar dualistic view dominates our perception of the wilderness. On the one hand, influenced by environmentalists, we think of the wilderness as a specific physical entity. On the other hand, as an expanded cultural and spiritual field which connotes to an entity beyond physical place. Wilderness has never been a concrete term that refers to a delimited physical entity, but has changed according to the prevailing thoughts of the times. Today, therefore, it stands as a dualistic term referring both to a certain physical set of traits and a set of cultural values and ideas. As Laura Feldt emphasizes: “In the world’s religions, wilderness is rarely a domain void of humans, although it may be a domain that is inhospitable or difficult to access for humans.  Nor can wilderness be aligned unproblematically with “nature” or “chaos,” just as previous dichotomizing approaches cannot be used uncritically. Instead the wilderness appears as an ambiguous boundary region in between the domain of “home” and the various otherworlds (e.g., heaven, hell, the underworld, “chaos,” etc.) of religious imaginations, while simultaneously being connected to concrete, geographical landscape, materialities, and climates.”[14]  And even though Feldt’s collection of essays primarily concerns wilderness in relation to religion and spirituality, her ideas offer an insight into the ambiguity that we face when we try to talk about wilderness today. This becomes one of the major reasons that it is important to understand what McCandless actually crossed into when he walked “into the wild” in 1992. 

            McCandless crossed a threshold, crossed from one place to the other, perhaps from society into the wild—if the wild is defined as “what exists outside society.”  This conception becomes difficult, however, insomuch as there would have to exist an agreement that there actually are two opposing forces that we can move between. The inherent duality is also evident in the etymological root of both wild and wilderness.[15]  Wilderness is a noun, but by behaving like an adjective, it is a less concrete term and a more subjective naming of places, things, and states of mind. As Nash explains in Wilderness and the American Mind:  “Because of this subjectivity a universally acceptable definition of wilderness is elusive. One man’s wilderness may be another roadside picnic ground.”[16]  

            The wilderness McCandless entered may have appeared as a concrete entity, but quickly unraveled into something more ephemeral and elusive; first, the definition which offers multiple ways to delineate and interpret its multivalence, and second, as a subjective term that changes via usage of it.  Even though wilderness has an admittedly subjective quality with multiple definitions, it is not rendered useless, but does demand a context. In the case of McCandless, it is beneficial to place wilderness within the context of McCandless’s personal story, contemporary society, and history. From this vantage point, we will be able to understand what wilderness is intended to mean when it is applied to McCandless, his followers, and the writings about them. And as the dividing lines between wilderness and society become more and more blurred, the question of why McCandless went into the wild and what he actually entered becomes crucial.

            To best understand McCandless’s entry into the wild, one must comprehend that the wilderness he entered into was mediated through literature. As Marx argues in his book The Machine in the Garden, the American longing for the pastoral is grounded in literature, perpetuated through the metaphor of the industrialization of America as a machine that destroys the garden. For McCandless, wilderness was indeed a cultural symbol, and likewise, McCandless himself has become a cultural symbol for his followers. This, however, does not mean that everyone follows in McCandless’s exact footsteps, but that they take part, or rather act out from a collective view that McCandless was free, changed his life, and found a place of belonging that was not necessarily a physical place as such. Reading through posts on the “Into the WildForum, people find each other, travel together, go on pilgrimages together; and, as one English girl explains:


I know i'm young, 18 years old actually and chris is such an inspiration to me and not many people i know have seen this film and i would love to do something like travelling on the road making it my home.  Firstly, i want to go on the camino, the camino de santiago but only i want to start from the top of france and then walk all the way to the end of spain, no hitch hiking though.  Then after that i'm going to walk/ hitch hike some of europe, living as a 'supertramp' like chris.  From there i want to go to america and walk/ hitchhike that (thats if i make it) However, i'm saving money to help fulfil my dream because england isnt an easy place to get out of.  After i have done this i hope to then write a book.  Is anyone interested in knowing more? Maybe joining me in about 4 years?

Just let me know if your interested,


Yours, jenny[17]


            The idea, or rather the construct, of wilderness into which these young men and women enter is similar to “the West” and “Alaska," perpetuated through Manifest Destiny; created not only through historic narratives, but also through literature, film, and popular media. As Sheila Nickerson writes on the subject of Alaska in Disappearance: A Map: A Meditation on Death and Loss in the High Latitudes:“ Many come to Alaska searching. Almost invariably, those who come to Alaska, the land of promise, come to find that which is lost only to themselves—money, power, position, authority—or a wilderness they think will save them from the evils of a more crowded world.”[18]  Americans themselves cling to the idea of a wilderness that covers the continent, a place of freedom and untouched natural beauty as conjured up by Frederick Jackson Turner and George Bancroft: “For Turner as for Bancroft, the transformation of the European into the American democrat had been a religious experience of rebirth which depended upon the mystical power of virgin land.”[19] The areas thatremain wilderness, however, are few and far between, and does not support the notion of an America based on freedom and wilderness: “Overall, however, only about 5% of the entire United States—an area slightly larger than the state of California—is protected as wilderness. Because Alaska contains just over half of America's wilderness, only about 2.7% of the contiguous United States—an area about the size of Minnesota—is protected as wilderness.”[20] When McCandless entered the wild, he separated himself from his family, life, money, house, and stable life. This separation, however, was not simply a physical act, going from one side to the other; for McCandless, the line between the wilderness and society is less tangible. Moreover, to cross these lines transcends a mere physical act. Wilderness becomes a double-edged sword: as a recognizable form in the physical world, it simultaneously refuses to take the form of a physical entity: Wilderness as an entity and a thought, that starts in a physical space, and continues in American thought, culture, and history. The wilderness as a symbol gives birth to a new set of ideas, and a wish for redreaming, re-creation, and change. McCandless’s entrance into the wild was made possible by the duality that exists between the wild as a concrete geographical entity and the cultural symbol that came before him, a cultural symbol made manifest by his followers.

Work Cited

            [1] Laura Feldt, foreword to Wilderness in Mythology and Religion:  Approaching Religious Spatialaities, Cosmologies, and Ideas of Wild Nature(Boston:  Walter de Gruyter, Inc., 2012), 2.

            [2] Joy Porter,Native American Environmentalism:  Land, Spirit, and the Idea of Wilderness(Lincoln:  University of Nebraska Press, 2014), 7.

            [3] Porter,Native American Environmentalism,138.

            [4 ]Ibid., 141.

            [5] Roderick Frazier Nash, Wilderness and the American Mind, 4th ed.  (New Haven, CT:  Yale University Press, 2001), xi.

            [6] Nash, Wilderness and the American Mind, xii.       

[7] Max Oelschlaeger, The Idea of Wilderness (New Haven, CT:  Yale University Press, 1991), 8.

            [8] This “fear of the wilderness" and the need for westward expansion is politically evident in the term Manifest Destiny.  Although Manifest Destiny is important to understanding the political significance and forces behind America’s occupation of the western territories—in particular, the Pacific Northwest—it has been omitted in this thesis, as it does not apply to understanding the entry into the wilderness by Christopher McCandless.  My emphasis in this thesis is on the wilderness as an expanded space, not the political implication of the westward expansion as it is treated by, among others, Robert J. Miller in Native America, Discovered and Conquered: Thomas Jefferson, Lewis and Clark, and Manifest Destiny, where the political importance and the racial injustice in Manifest Destiny are disclosed and discussed:  “Historians have for the most part agreed that there are three basic themes to manifest destiny:  1.  the special virtues of the American people and their institutions; 2.  America’s mission to redeem and remake the world in its image; and  3.  a divine destiny under God’s direction to accomplish this wonderful task.  Manifest Destiny also had a racial component.  America’s self-defined Anglo-Saxons felt they held the leading role in educating, civilizing, and conquering the continent and dominating American Indians and Mexicans.”See Robert J. Miller, Native America, Discovered and Conquered:  Thomas Jefferson, Lewis and Clark, and Manifest Destiny,  (Westport, CT:  Praeger Publisher, 2006), 120.

            [9] William Vaughan, “Romanticism,” Oxford Art Online, accessed July 26, 2014,

            [10 ]Marx, The Machine in the Garden, 19.

[11] Rebecca Solnit, Wanderlust: A History Of Walking (London: Verso, 2002), 82.

            [12] Victor of Aveyron was found in the forest outside Aveyron, France in 1800, where he was believed to have lived most his life.  He was brought up by the physician Jean Marc Gaspard Itard, who taught him basic skills through rigorous training.  In Truffaut’s 1970 film on Victor of Aveyron, we follow Victor’s life from the day he is found in the forest to his early teens. Victor died in 1828 in Paris, France.

[13] Jeffery Moussaieff Masson, Lost Prince:  The Unsolved Mystery of Kaspar Hauser (New York:  Free Press, 1996), 49.

            [14]  Feldt, Wilderness in Mythology and Religion, 18.

            [15] As to the etymological roots of wilderness and the wild, we are offered multiple definitions of the words, although the origins are believed to be from Teutonic and Norse languages, where the root was “will,”meaning “self-willed,”“willful,”or “uncontrollable.”  A further look at the definitions of wilderness and wild in the dictionary reveals that to a large extent they share the same definition, although “the wild”is separated from simply "wild”as:  “[a] natural, unrestrained life or state; nature.”

            [16] Nash, Wilderness and the American Mind, 1.

[17] jenny-intothewild, “TRAVELING ON THE ROAD INTO THE WILD,”accessed August 11, 2014, “Into the WildForum,

            [18] Sheila Nickerson,Disappearance:  A Map:  A Meditation On Death and Loss in The High Latitudes (New York: Doubleday, 1996), 44.

            [19] David W.  Noble, “Frederick Jackson Turner:  The Machine and The Loss of The Covenant” in Historians Against History: The Frontier Thesis and the National Covenant in American Historical Writing Since 1830 (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1967), 39.

[20] “The Beginnings of the National Wilderness Preservation System,”, accessed May 14, 2014,

Kaity O'Reilly

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Dominique Weber

Dominique Weber