Back to the Wild is a conglomerate of the authentic and original photographs taken cryptic diary entries Chris had inscribed in a book about edible plants. The photographs and writings of Christopher McCandless. This book contains original photographs, postcards and journal entries from Christopher McCandless. Chris McCandless New Book - Back to The WIld. DVD and Book “Back to the Wild” The Christopher Johnson McCandless Memorial Foundation, Inc. Eighteen .
|Language:||English, Spanish, Japanese|
|Genre:||Academic & Education|
|Distribution:||Free* [*Sign up for free]|
Through most of the book, I have tried—and largely succeeded, I think—to improbably light load for a stay of several months in the back-country, especially. Photo: Christopher McCandless, Courtesy of Back to the Wild Christopher a job , a task, a book, anything requiring efficient concentration. Sick, injured or orphaned wildlife require careful and skilled attention if they are to be rehabilitated and successfully reintegrated back to the wild. The. RSPCA.
Fault Of Pot[ato] Seed"   Based on this entry, Krakauer hypothesized that McCandless had been eating what he thought was the roots of an edible plant, Hedysarum alpinum , commonly known as wild Eskimo potato , which are sweet and nourishing in the spring but later become too tough to eat.
When this happened, McCandless may have attempted to eat the seeds instead.
Krakauer first speculated that the seeds were actually from Hedysarum mackenzii , or wild sweet pea, instead of the Eskimo Potato, which contained a poisonous alkaloid , possibly swainsonine the toxic chemical in locoweed or something similar.
In addition to neurological symptoms, such as weakness and loss of coordination, the poison causes starvation by blocking nutrient metabolism in the body. However, Krakauer later suggested that McCandless had not confused the two plants and had in fact actually eaten Hedysarum alpinum.
Krakauer had the plant tested for any toxins and, through tests on Hendysarum alpinum, it was discovered that it contained an unidentifiable form of toxin. However, when the Eskimo potatoes from the area around the bus were later tested in a laboratory of the University of Alaska Fairbanks by Dr.
Thomas Clausen, toxins were not found. Krakauer later modified his hypothesis, suggesting that mold of the variety Rhizoctonia leguminicola may have caused McCandless's death.
Rhizoctonia leguminicola is known to cause digestion problems in livestock, and may have aided McCandless's impending starvation. Krakauer hypothesised that the bag in which Chris kept the potato seeds was damp and the seeds thus became moldy. If McCandless had eaten seeds that contained this mold, he could have become sick, and Krakauer suggests that he thus became unable to get out of bed and so starved. His basis for the mold hypothesis is a photograph that shows seeds in a bag.
Following chemical analysis of the seeds, Krakauer now believes that the seeds themselves are poisonous. It was very difficult to catch rides in the Yukon Territory.
But I finally got here. Please return all mail I receive to the sender. It might be a very long time before I return South. If this adventure proves fatal and you don't ever hear from me again I want you to know you're a great man.
I now walk into the wild. Jim Gallien had driven four miles out of Fairbanks when he spotted the hitchhiker standing in the snow beside the road, thumb raised high, shivering in the gray Alaska dawn. He didn't appear to be very old: eighteen, maybe nineteen at most.
A rifle protruded from the young man's backpack, but he looked friendly enough; a hitchhiker with a Remington semiautomatic isn't the sort of thing that gives motorists pause in the forty-ninth state. Gallien steered his truck onto the shoulder and told the kid to climb in. The hitchhiker swung his pack into the bed of the Ford and introduced himself as Alex.
Five feet seven or eight with a wiry build, he claimed to be twenty-four years old and said he was from South Dakota.
He explained that he wanted a ride as far as the edge of Denali National Park, where he intended to walk deep into the bush and "live off the land for a few months. Alex's backpack looked as though it weighed only twenty-five or thirty pounds, which struck Gallien--an accomplished hunter and woodsman--as an improbably light load for a stay of several months in the backcountry, especially so early in the spring. The sun came up. As they rolled down from the forested ridges above the Tanana River, Alex gazed across the expanse of windswept muskeg stretching to the south.
Gallien wondered whether he'd picked up one of those crackpots from the lower forty-eight who come north to live out ill-considered Jack London fantasies.
Alaska has long been a magnet for dreamers and misfits, people who think the unsullied enormity of the Last Frontier will patch all the holes in their lives.
The bush is an unforgiving place, however, that cares nothing for hope or longing. The rivers are big and fast. The mosquitoes eat you alive. Most places, there aren't a lot of animals to hunt. Livin' in the bush isn't no picnic.
The more they talked, the less Alex struck Gallien as a nutcase. He was congenial and seemed well educated. He peppered Gallien with thoughtful questions about the kind of small game that live in the country, the kinds of berries he could eat--"that kind of thing. Alex admitted that the only food in his pack was a ten-pound bag of rice. His gear seemed exceedingly minimal for the harsh conditions of the interior, which in April still lay buried under the winter snowpack.
Alex's cheap leather hiking boots were neither waterproof nor well insulated. His rifle was only. He had no ax, no bug dope, no snowshoes, no compass.
The only navigational aid in his possession was a tattered state road map he'd scrounged at a gas station. A hundred miles out of Fairbanks the highway begins to climb into the foothills of the Alaska Range. Alex pulled out his crude map and pointed to a dashed red line that intersected the road near the coal-mining town of Healy.
It represented a route called the Stampede Trail. Seldom traveled, it isn't even marked on most road maps of Alaska.