When Adventurers Gather

More often than not, adventure is a solo endeavor—or, at least something pursued in very small groups. In part, this is because adventure tends to take place in the unexplored or little-explored places in life, whether that’s in the sky, on a mountain, or in a new, entrepreneurial venture. Which means, pretty much by definition, that there aren’t a ton of people already milling around there.
In the case of physical adventure, it’s also often because the places adventurers go don’t accommodate large numbers of people. Narrow rock ledges are dicey enough with one or two other climbers. And anyone who’s hiked or climbed on popular routes can attest to the difficulty posed by too many people on a route. One of the group I attempted to climb Mt. Blanc with, a couple of years ago, noted that on the toughest, steepest “wall” of the climb, the biggest danger was the loose rock dislodged and falling from the many people descending as he was attempting to climb up the route. “It was like New York at rush hour on that wall,” he said, shaking his head. “With about as much chivalry or manners.”
And yet, as much as we’d really love to be the only person or team on that mountain, or (in the case of pilots) in that traffic pattern, we still seem to have an irresistible urge to get together with others who share our passion—at least every now and then.
I’m thinking of this inclination at this particular moment because I’m getting ready to head off for the annual Experimental Aircraft Association convention in Oshkosh, Wisconsin next week. EAA’s “AirVenture,” or simply “Oshkosh,” as most pilots who’ve had their licenses more than 15 years or so call it, is the largest gathering of pilots and airplanes in the country each year. How large? Something in the neighborhood of 12,000 airplanes and half a million people, over the course of about six days.
For anyone who’s never seen it, 12,000 airplanes is a pretty jaw-dropping sight. The planes go on, and on, and on, and on, in row after row, along a flight line that is, literally, several miles long. And that’s just at the main air field. Nearby airports are also covered in small planes.
The trek to the air show is an adventure in and of itself, often akin to a kind of pilgrimage for true believers in the magic of winged machines. But I’ve often noted the combination of relief and joy in the faces of all the enthusiastic flyers who attend at finding so many others of their kind, all together in one place. And I think that reaction is also part of why enthusiasts and adventurers make an effort to get together in groups every now and then.
Pilots have Oshkosh. Balloonists have Albuquerque. Dog trainers have Westminster. Car enthusiasts have everything from Indy to Daytona to vintage rallies to car shows. I’m sure stamp collectors have their own annual convention, or conventions, as well.
Even mountain climbers—arguably the most solo of any adventurers out there—get together for various meets and events. At least, some of them do. The International Mountaineering and Climbing Federation website listed several upcoming meets, including an American Alpine Club (AAC) International Climbers Meet coming up in Yosemite, and a recent Cliff Climbers meet in the UK.
Part of the appeal may be a chance to test one’s own skills against others, competitive instinct being what it is, in humans. But I suspect that most people who step outside of the conventional lines of life, whether it’s by being a creative artist, an entrepreneur, a pilot, a dog trainer, or a mountain climber, spend a lot of time fielding questions about why on earth they chose such a peculiar—and in some cases, difficult and risky—path or endeavor. As a greeting card I came across once said, “Those who hear not the music think the dancers mad.”
For the most part, people who choose to chart their own courses in their careers or off-time don’t really need the understanding or approval of others. If they did, they’d choose more conventional and accepted activities. But humans are also social, herd animals. We crave the company of kindred spirits. And sometimes, home and community are found not among those who are in the closest proximity, but among those who share a vision or set of values about what matters in life.
Among others, in other words, who don’t think you’re crazy.
Sometimes, of course, those non-understanding friends and colleagues can provide a necessary reality or perspective check. But every now and then, even most solo adventurers enjoy having the chance to come home. Even if home is on a mountain in Yosemite, a convention hall in New York, a plateau in New Mexico, or an airfield in Wisconsin.
For a listing of where I’ll be speaking and appearing at the show, see the schedule on the home page at www.lanewallace.com.