The surreal nature of this year continues forward and as you think things are approaching some degree of normalcy, the plot twists and we as a collective society are left slack jawed and out of breath.  Arguments seemed to be fueled with additional vitriol as the summer sun begins setting earlier in the sky each evening.  The time of year that children dream about new teachers, new textbooks and backpacks, new clothes and shoes.  Things all children anticipate as they begin their knowledge quest and evolution from toddler, to adolescent, to young adult and then to maturity. 

Normalcy has become something of Arthurian legend.   A myth created by generations past who talk about nights in fancy restaurants, dancing in clubs and working out in gyms.  We talk about returning to “normal” with friends and colleagues, but in the back of our minds, hidden among the memories is the thought that “normal” may never be “normal” again. 

Almost two years ago, I set out planning my 40^th birthday adventure.  Something I’ve wanted to do for some time.  Something which in my soul, I knew, I had to do.  A trip to Alaska and to trek the Stampede Trail with the destination being “The Magic Bus”. 

For those who are not aware of what the “Magic Bus” is, I suggest you pick up the novel Into the Wild by John Krakauer.  If you have any type of adventurous spirit within you, this book will be something that sticks with you for quite some time.  The story (true) is about a young man (Chris McCandless) with a troubled past due to being raised in an absolutely dysfunctional family and how upon his graduation from Emory University, he set out on a modern day “walkabout”.  He gave away pretty much everything he owned, money included, wandered around the west, exploring and living the rubber tramp life.  His goal was Alaska.  A spiritual quest of sorts.  To go there and test his mettle against the harsh and unforgiving lands of snow, ice and permafrost.  To try and exist in this place for as long as he needed prior to returning (if ever) to the “normal” world.

Into the Wild tells his story based on the found journal Chris kept, letters mailed to friends and sister and encounters with other souls along the way.  It is both heart wrenching and inspiring all in one.  Chris eventually makes his way to Alaska in the spring of 1992.  He treks through the Alaskan wild eventually ending up at a 1946 International Harvester K-5 city bus which was placed into the wilderness to serve as a base camp for moose hunters.  Fairbanks bus #142.  The Magic Bus.

He set up his own base camp here.  Shooting small game and eventually a moose which becomes one of the great failures of his life because he was unable to preserve the meat properly and as a result, the game spoiled and he felt that he unnecessarily ended the animal’s life without reason.  Chris eventually decided to return society after realizing that Happiness is best when shared.  Unfortunately, as he began the trek out, the Teklanika River was so swollen that he had to turn back to the bus.  During that time, details become hazy at best.  Some believe that he died from eating a poisonous plant.  Others believe that he starved to death. 

There are several camps on the subject of Chris McCandless.  Those who look at him as a hero and adventurer and those who look at him as an example of exactly what not to do.  I admit, I am closer to seeing him in the first light, but am realist enough to know he made mistakes.  Still, I envy him.  I look at him as someone brave enough to live on HIS terms and not conform to what “normal” is according to society.  Perishing in the bus and leaving an indelible mark with his energy there.  He became a cult hero to me and I wanted to feel his energy and see where he left his human vessel behind.       

Having now read the book well over ten times and having the movie sitting on a shelf, I knew what trip needed to happen.  This was the time to finally experience the residual energy, emotion and wild that I longed for.  As I poured over the logistics and details, I found myself becoming even more excited for this adventure.  The climb of Mount Whitney in September of 2018 fueled the dreams of the Stampede Trail even more.  But, as it so often does, fate intervened and my trip was unable to happen.  Crushed by the thought, but in the back of my mind thinking this bus is just like any mountain; It’s not going anywhere. 

A few weeks ago I found out that the “Magic Bus” was being moved.  The State of Alaska felt that it was creating a risk because of the number of people who are ill equipped to make a trek of that nature were doing just that and then having to be rescued.  I see these people on the trails often.  I see them in their caked on makeup, Gucci shirts, tennis shoes, colognes and perfumes carrying their cute little leather bags and a single bottle of water in hand.  Sounds judgmental, huh (apologies as the ex-Catholic in me surfaces every now and again)?  I remind myself that everyone is out there hiking their own hike and doing hopefully something more for the experience than for social media.  Well, these types of folks typically are the ones who provide the most headaches for SAR. 

I was devastated at the thought of this monument being taken out.  I wanted to see it and pay my respects to the energy of Chris and to the spirit of adventure and living on one’s own terms.  The bus is now being relocated to a museum.  A museum, really?  I can’t wrap my head around it.  I refuse to wrap my head around it.  I see white shoes, fanny packs and garishly jeweled people walking around this hallowed artifact gawking at it and talking about Chris.  It offends me as an adventurer.  It bothers me to no end as a free spirit.  This is a sacred piece of metal for the bold.  This does not belong to the “normal” society.  This is for the rubber tramps, the dreamers, the lost souls, the adventures, the poets and hiker trash, the folks who live for the outdoors and the prospect that any hike could be their last and they love that.  This is not for normal.  I refuse to accept it be for the normal realm.  “Mike.  A little dramatic, maybe?”  Maybe so, but if we don’t have things we consider sacred and hallowed, what good are dreams?  Why bother existing? 

As this pandemic hopefully begins to end and we see the return to “normal” I hope that every soul who reads this considers what “normal” is and maybe redefines it for themselves.  To not conform to what Society demands.  Society, it’s not for me…

It's a mystery to me
We have a greed
With which we have agreed

You think you have to want
More than you need
Until you have it all you won't be free

Society, you're a crazy breed
I hope you're not lonely without me

When you want more than you have
You think you need
And when you think more than you want
Your thoughts begin to bleed

I think I need to find a bigger place
'Cause when you have more than you think
You need more space

Society, you're a crazy breed
I hope you're not lonely without me
Society, crazy and deep
I hope you're not lonely without me

There's those thinking more or less less is more
But if less is more how you're keeping score?
Means for every point you make
Your level drops
Kinda like it's starting from the top
You can't do that

Society, you're a crazy breed
I hope you're not lonely without me
Society, crazy and deep
I hope you're not lonely without me

Society, have mercy on me
I hope you're not angry if I disagree
Society, crazy and deep
I hope you're not lonely without me

• Eddie Vedder

One of my favorite songs.  Never accept “normal” if it doesn’t work for you.  In these months of the pandemic, I have been learning a lot about what I will no longer accept and dreams I have.  The light that fills me and fuels my soul.  The recognition that we all should live according to our rules and normal.  Sending light, healing peace and the wonder of this universe to all souls.

Namaste, friends.

“Leave nothing but footprints, take nothing but pictures, kill nothing but time…”