Why I need wilderness

As a teenager I loved to surf. For me, one of surfing’s greatest appeals was sitting in the line-up and knowing that no-one could sell me a ticket to this place; I was there because I put myself there, no-one else. Times have changed and the ‘touristisation’ of surfing has certainly taken place with surf schools and resorts ‘owning’ particular surf spots. One thing remains the same though – when you paddle into a wave it is you and you alone that has to deal with what that wave throws at you.

Later I took up outdoor sports – rock climbing, back-country skiing and bushwalking. I’ve skied out onto the Bogong High Plains and found myself in a white-out, wondering which way to camp, and why the terrain had suddenly become so unfamiliar. I had to make the decision about what to do next.

I’ve climbed cliffs and found myself staring down through my feet to the ground way below me – and a tangle of rope that I had to deal with to get out of the mess I found myself in. There was no-one to help me, no-one to wear the consequences of my failure or celebrate my success.

I’ve walked Tasmania’s Overland Track, carrying all I needed for the seven day hike. Today, anyone with a reasonable level of fitness and a couple of thousand dollars to spend can do this walk, to quote one website, ‘[without] the burdens of planning and heavy packs. The aim is for you to focus on just taking in the beauty of Tasmanian wilderness.’

There has been a huge increase in wilderness tourism in recent years with Wilderness Lodges, Wilderness Adventures and so on – much of which is in our national parks. The pressure to create new ‘wild’ experiences continues. Victoria’s Nature-based Tourism Strategy, released in 2008, proposes four ‘wild walks’ “with a high yield commercially-run walking component with demountable standing camps/accommodation which does not limit public access.” These are proposed for the Otways, Grampians, Victorian Alps and East Gippsland.

Currently, the Victorian Competition and Efficiency Commission is reviewing the barriers facing the tourism industry under the title of “Unlocking Victorian Tourism”, including the current prohibition on private development in national parks. Their final report is due to be handed to the Minister in June this year.

Not limiting public access is a catchcry of many who visit our national parks. It seems a reasonable request. National parks are public land and therefore should be open for all to visit. Many see increases in wilderness as locking up areas, making them accessible only to bushwalkers and the like.

Wilderness, however, is not that easy to define; it means different things for different people. For me, wilderness is not a place but an experience, often beautiful, always challenging and always inspiring.

There are many places I have hiked to that I have thought about for some time before organising and undertaking the trip. In many cases the trip had to wait until I had the expertise to undertake it. I could say my access was restricted due to lack of roads or facilities but the reality is that it was my lack of experience that denied me access. There are still places – like the peaks of the Razor and Viking – that remain for future trips.

The idea of taking wild places and providing facilities to ensure, in the words of the nature-based tourism strategy, public access is not limited is, to me, the antithesis of their appeal and value.

We have a choice – ease the path or build our strength. It would be relatively easy to build a bitumen road into many of these places, ensuring access for everyone. Building paths however leaves nothing to inspire and challenge us. The essence of wilderness is a place, an experience, where we have to build ourselves in order to succeed.

My latest wilderness venture has been my scariest and most challenging yet. It started with a phone call – my blood test results were in and could I come down to the surgery now. My doctor gave me a lot of information about my condition but only a one word echoed in my head – leukaemia.

This is an adventure that, despite the plentiful support of family and friends, I have to take alone. No-one can take this journey for me, no-one can tame this wilderness. It is not possible for someone else to carry my pack. I can look to others who have made this journey and be inspired. I can recall the journeys I have made in the past and take what I have learnt about myself and apply it to this one.  I can take the support of my family and friends and use it to support me on my journey.

My odds are good, I have been told, with a survival rate of around ninety per cent. The truth though is simple: when the die is rolled it is me who wins or loses, it is me who lives or dies. It is my journey.

This is why I need wilderness. Wilderness has provided me a means to learn and grow stronger. For me, these areas weren’t locked up – access wasn’t limited, I just had to learn how to make the journey.

It saddens me that some people are unable or unwilling to take this journey and decry and fear wilderness and demand that it be unlocked and diluted, made simpler. It worries me because life can at times be hard and no matter how much we may wish it, no-one can make it simpler. Sometimes our only choice is to learn how to meet the challenges we face.

It saddens me that our tourism industry only really understands wilderness as a brand, an adjective to add to the name of a product in order to increase its appeal. While wilderness lodges and wild walks do provide a range of experiences for many people, wilderness is not one of them. My greatest fear is that in creating ‘iconic nature-based tourism product’ we risk destroying the very essence of wilderness.