Life Lived Wild: Adventures at the Edge of the Map

by Rick Ridgeway

One of my teammates took the time to sight the compass directions of the peaks and to get altitude readings from all the high points. He drafted maps of our cirque, scribing the ridgelines, noting the summits, and using his altimeter to calculate rough elevations. “Maybe you should draw dragons in the margins,” I said. “Dragons?” “You know, in the Middle Ages, when cartographers got to the edge of the map where the rest of the world was unknown, they used to write, ‘Here Be Dragons.’” “Kind of appropriate, since we’re in the Land of the Thunder Dragon,” Yvon added, referring to the traditional name for Bhutan. Back in camp, the yaks and yak herders had arrived. The expedition was over, and despite not being able to find our mountain, things had worked out. As we packed our gear, Yvon said there was one thing that was bothering him. “The maps,” he said. “The maps?” “I don’t think we should publish them.” “Why not?” “The same reason I stopped reporting the new climbs I do in the Tetons. So the next guys who come along have to figure it out. So they’ll have the same sense of discovery.” “That makes sense. But what should we do with the maps?” “Burn ’em.” “Burn ’em?” “Yeah, torch the mothers. It’ll be the perfect ending to our trip.” Yvon Chouinard, the iconoclast. It took a moment for all of us to think it through, but soon we were into the idea. My teammate pulled out the maps he had so carefully drawn, and with his BIC lighter set them on fire. We stood around, cheering him...