Inner transformation comes as a gift and brings a profound sense of gratitude. It can’t be possessed, but drifts out of and into the mists of unknowing. The mountains, the sea, the sky, and the creatures who live where I spent the year all shared themselves generously with me. For this, too, I’m deeply grateful.
One of the unexpected things about spending a year in solitude and writing about it is how many people have accompanied and supported me along the way. Patti Kuchinsky’s intellectual and logistic contributions have been invaluable. She was an always reliable contact person, technical assistant and medical adviser during the year, and she has participated enormously in creating this book. Her own journey to spend a month with me on the island in southern Chile was a courageous act of faith, and her presence eased my reentry into the social world. I’m grateful for her love, honesty, and wisdom.
Before and after my year alone, I spent months in Chile preparing and readjusting. The people I met were warm and helpful. My interactions with the government were almost always positive, and you can’t ask for more than that.
Thank you to my friend and mentor Christian de Quincey, who generously offered to edit the manuscript and to act as my literary agent. His interest in my experience and his commitment to shaping and sharing the account encouraged me to continue writing. I’ve been very fortunate to work with New World Library editor Jason Gardner and freelance editor Jeff Campbell. They not only understood why I was writing from rather than about solitude, but they saw aspects of the story I’d missed and made invaluable suggestions on how to improve it.
The relationship between teacher and student is a delicate dance grounded in mutual respect and trust. An important step in earning a doctorate is developing a meaningful relationship with a supervisor and a supervisory committee; this is especially so for a nontraditional project. I’m extremely fortunate and grateful to have worked with David Tait, Lee Gass, Carl Leggo, Karen Meyer, and the late Peter Frost. They always challenged and supported me, and they trusted the process of our collective adventure into the unknown. Lee, especially, never let me get away with sloppy thinking or writing.
It’s not easy to openheartedly let someone you love do something potentially dangerous. My mother honored my decision and gave me her blessing. My sisters Nancy and Peggy and their husbands Bill and Bill also supported me, even though they didn’t necessarily understand why I wanted to spend a year alone in the wilderness. They worried about my safety but didn’t try to talk me out of going. My nephews Greg and Kevin did understand and they thought it an excellent thing to do. Living in Nancy and Bill’s northern California cabin while working on this book was a wonderful gift.
Ron Marsh started to read straight through an early draft of the manuscript, but decided he needed more time for reflection. On February 5, 2006, he began the year-long journey with me — one day at a time. He offered plenty of useful and humorous insights along the way. I’ve enjoyed many delightful conversations with Pille Bunnell, and I’m grateful to her and David Tait for inviting me to live in their home. Janet Beddoes has always been there; she read various drafts of the manuscript and suggested ways to move it forward. Thank you to my sweat lodge brothers and sisters for welcoming me into their circle, and to many distant writers who have shared their words with me.
I also wish to thank the following people and organizations for contributing generously to the project and to my life: Alejandra Silva, Juan-Pablo and Magdalena Cerda, Adriana Cerda, Diane Levings, Paulina Vilches, German Coronado, Barry McBride, Bart van der Kamp, Heather Akai, Marna Nelson, Jason Harrison, Axel Anderson, Michelle Kelly, Madeleine MacIvor, Tim Michel, Marcel Laplante, Robin Clark, the Chilean Navy and National Parks Service, the Canadian Consulate in Santiago, and Forestry, Interdisciplinary and Graduate Studies, MAGIC, and Civil Engineering at the University of British Columbia. The many people along the way who generously offered free technical advice and taught me what I needed to know. And the old woman in Puerto Varas whose eyes I won’t forget.