The Camp in the Woods
As someone who can’t talk herself into sleeping in a tent anymore (my camping days are over), I was enthralled with GQ’s article about the capture of Christopher Knight. He lived in the woods for 27 years, supporting himself by stealing — about 40 times per year — from people’s homes while they were away. He entered the woods when he was 20. He left the woods at 47.
Knight stated that over all those years he slept only in a tent. He never lit a fire, for fear that smoke would give his camp away. He moved strictly at night. He said he didn’t know if his parents were alive or dead. He’d not made one phone call or driven in a car or spent any money. He had never in his life sent an e-mail or even seen the Internet … He engaged in zero communication with the outside world. He never snapped a photo. He did not keep a journal. His camp was undisclosed to everyone … He was an uncontacted tribe of one.
That’s the starting point. The rest of the article unpacks what happens when the author tries to connect with Knight; first through letters and then showing up at the prison. (Knight goes to prison due to the break-ins.) He visits the place in the woods where Knight slept, and explains how he got through 27 Maine winters.
Why. That’s the question that keeps looping through the article. What would make someone leave the world behind and live on their own for so many years that they forget how to speak, how to look at people, how to navigate a conversation?
Isn’t everybody, he said, seeking the same thing in life? Aren’t we all looking for contentment? He was never happy in his youth—not in high school, not with a job, not being around other people. Then he discovered his camp in the woods. “I found a place where I was content,” he said. His own perfect spot. The only place in the world he felt at peace.
When he can’t physically return to that spot post-prison, he recreates it by withdrawing while living in the mainstream world. He’s here, but he’s not really here. He has no connections to other people. No words to share or ones he wants to hear.
It’s an interesting counterbalance to the Instagram world. If we can accept the idea of someone finding their contentment in gathering followers, we should be able to accept the idea in someone who wants no followers, no friends, no family, no connections. Not something I would choose for myself, but I was fascinated by the glimpse inside the world.
10 comments
This is fascinating to me, too! His rationale, dare I say, makes sense to me? I’m really sad that he is in prison and can’t truly be alone if that is what he needs to live in this world.
I’m very fascinated by this given how disconnected he became from the world. Reminds me of Christopher McCandless (Into the Wild) and his need to disconnect.
I am totally fascinated by this article. The guy really does seem to know his own mind and it makes sense (and, I’ll admit, I chuckled when he called Thoreau a dilettante – true, certainly compared to this guy, and Thoreau did enjoy entertaining visitors).
Ok how many of us thought if Peter from the Brady Bunch?
Haha, Working Mom of 2 beat me to it!!
I am sure someone wrote a book about this guy within the past couple of years. The name escapes me right now, though.
I’m also reminded of a book I read when I was a kid called “My Side of the Mountain,” about a boy who runs away from home to live off the land. He makes a home for himself inside a hollow tree. They made a movie out of it.
I like my “me time,” but I am too much of a social creature (& I like my comforts too much) to live like that.
Found it!
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/35969564-the-stranger-in-the-woods
Ooooh, good find, Loribeth. And I had to Google Working Mom of 2. THEN I laughed.
I read that book! It was…ok. The main problem I had is that the guy kind of terrorized the local community for many years as he broke into hundreds of homes and a lot of people felt unsafe. He stole food, batteries, books, clothes, watches, all to survive. So he didn’t really live off the land, per se. Neither did Thoreau, but his family fed and helped him survive in the woods when he was “alone” as opposed to theft.
Count me as one of the Brady Bunch assumers.
This is fascinating to me. We have a local guy who is not quite this hermity, but still lives a life of contentment that differs from most others. A local news station got his story, but it was at the expense of some of his contentment.
There is something so poignant and sad about this. Would that we had places for ppl who just wanted to live in peace, alone.
The boyscout camp my mother grew up at has a spring called the Hermit Spring and an old shed, really, a precursor of a tiny house, that was his home. At one time that land was wilderness and the perfect spot for a hermit. But now it would be tough to find a place you could go and not be found.
Some part of me would like to do this, to be honest. But without the stealing and maybe with one other person. (So I’m not a true hermit.) Still there’s something about it that sounds idyllic.