The high point I wanted to achieve as a naturalist at Denali was a great campfire program, one like the masterpiece campfire talk by William Rodarmor about wolves that had inspired me that first summer hitchhiking in Alaska. His program made me love being a living part of this amazing world, sharing it with wolves. I had achieved that kind of talk at Big Bend, so I anticipated the same triumph in Denali. But I couldn’t do it. I kept swinging for a home run and striking out instead. All I achieved were mediocre campfire talks. My nature walks and slide shows and discovery hikes were great. My dog sled demonstrations were a blast because the kennel master trusted me with five dogs including 125-pound Tige; we blasted off from the starting post each time and made a great skidding turn at the far end. But my campfire talk – I just couldn’t get it, much to my frustration. Every couple of weeks I would try a new topic, something big and cosmic, but the connection never happened. So I spent a lot of that first summer gnawing on my campfire talk.
While hiking one day, I had this great idea. I wouldn’t have a campfire! I would explain to the audience how this would acknowledge being in Alaska. It doesn’t get dark until mid-August so there is no need for a fire. And the growing season is so short up here in the interior that trees don’t grow fast or large. Firewood is precious. So we’re not going to have a fire.
I cheerfully announced this at the beginning of my next campfire talk—and walked straight into a silent but incredibly palpable wall of hostility. BAM. Nobody said anything, because nobody had to. The unanimous soundless rejection made it impossible to continue. And then a piece of wood was lobbed from the back and thudded beside the campfire ring. The abrupt transformation of a friendly group of vacationers into a hostile, telepathically-united near-mob cowed me. It also made me aware that fire is far, far more primal than we realize. “You do not deprive us of fire. It is light. It protects us. It brings us together into a circle and joins us together as a pack. You Shall Build A Fire! Without its binding energy, you have no authority and this gathering does not exist.”
I meekly built a hasty fire.
Next Chapter . . . . . Table of Contents
Leave a Reply