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Commercializing Adventure

My attention was brought, last week, to a Web site of a young sailor who was nearing the completion of a round-the-world solo sailing adventure. His highly promotional site was touting his quest as a record-setting feat because, if he succeeds, he will be the youngest person (by a few months) to do a solo circumnavigation of the globe. Books and DVDs and fame to follow.
I posted some of my reactions and thoughts about pursuing fame through adventure or sports on my Atlantic Monthly blog last Friday. So I won’t repeat any of that here.
But regardless of what amount of fame might follow an adventure or sports quest, I’ve never been very comfortable with the whole concept of commercializing adventure. Does that make me a purist? Perhaps.
The great quests and adventures, of course, have never been cheap. In addition to his Mt. Everest feat, Sir Edmund Hillary was part of the 1955-58 “Commonwealth Trans-Arctic Expedition,” which completed the first successful overland crossing of Antarctica, via the South Pole. The expedition was funded by five governments, as well as many corporate and individual donations. And there’s a reason Charles Lindbergh’s plane was called “The Spirit of St. Louis,” not “Bluebird.” It was funded by a group of St. Louis businessmen, who hoped to gain some visibility for St. Louis if Lindbergh was successful. 
So the link between sponsors and great adventure achievements goes back a long way. And, of course, sponsors always want something in return. In the case of Hillary’s expeditions, it may have been pride in country, or exploration of new resources or routes. Modern-day sponsors are hoping for visibility and good product image by being associated with a grand adventure quest. (Think Breitling and the first successful balloon flight around the world—a feat that Breitling is now hoping to capitalize on again with a 10th anniversary multi-stop balloon flight around the world to benefit a foundation that fights noma disease.)
In other words, the sponsors make the adventure possible, and get publicity (often with a helpful hook about some worthy cause), in return. The cause hopefully gets some funding. And the adventurers … well, get to adventure.
So what’s wrong with that scenario? Sometimes, nothing … although I’ve seen a lot of big adventure efforts where the centerpiece adventurers are drawn to it not for the love of the adventure itself, but for the limelight attached to it. The results can be ugly, even if the damage done is only to the very hard-working backstage people who never get credit for the important roles they made in allowing the quest to be successful. People who, typically, actually did get involved with the adventure for a love of the journey, not the fame at the end of the road.
But nowadays, that structure isn’t limited to just the really big expeditions. There are any number of fly/sail/travel around the world aspirants who find some hook, or a cause to support, and go in search of publicity to get sponsors or funding so they can afford to do it. But often—especially if the adventure is something that’s actually been done before—the pitches bother me. Almost as if they’re missing the point of what an adventure is supposed to be.  
Look. I’m all for going on a Grand Tour or seeking travel adventures. And I’m all for raising money for charity. I just think there’s something artificial about doing one and calling it the other.
But what to do about the cost of all these grand adventures? Good question. There’s a reason I haven’t taken my own world tour, yet, and it’s not lack of interest. But there are people—myself included—who’ve found ways to work their way through smaller adventures. Professional ferry pilots, for example, get paid to fly airplanes around the world every day. It’s an adventure, to be sure. I interviewed one ferry pilot who’d had to ditch not once, but twice, in the Pacific Ocean. But they don’t ask for a big fuss to be made over them.
A number of the 950+members of the “Circumnavigators’ Club” are undoubtedly well-off, and could finance the trip themselves. But there are also families who saved up money and lived frugally to take a year off and sail around the world with their kids, just for the experience and education it can offer. One recent qualifier for membership, a young Canadian named Clive Weber, hitchhiked his way around the world on various sailboats, over the course of 16 months. I searched his Web site for tell-tale signs of someone seeking an easy ride or glory, but didn’t find any. He does say that he’s thinking of writing a book about hitchhiking by boat, and asks readers to send in questions on the subject they’d like to see answered. And he has a Web site, so he’s not adventuring in secret. But, really. Any site called “StinkyFeetProject.org” isn’t exactly aiming for the big time.
In truth, what struck me most about Weber’s site was a page called “inukshuk“, where he explained why he was drawn to his particular adventures. He got very lost once, on a solo trek in the wilderness, and came across an inukshuk (a stone Inuit symbol/marker). The marker gave him comfort, because it told him that other humans had been there before. The inukshuk became his personal symbol, tattooed onto his shoulder. In the wilderness, it reminds him of how important the ties of humanity are. And at home, he says, it reminds him of how important exploring beyond the known still is.
Perhaps Weber will get some sponsors for future adventures. But reading his site, I got the clear impression that he’s going, anyway. Does that make his accomplishments—sponsored or not—better or more important than those who pursue adventure with a more publicity-oriented approach? Maybe not. But I think it’s likely to make his journeys far more meaningful. Not to mention any book he might end up writing about them far more interesting to read.

{ 1 comment… add one }
  • forrest June 11, 2009, 4:11 pm

    well, you’ve got me thinking – not that its rare – but… humm

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