That is the exploration that awaits you! Not mapping stars and studying nebula, but charting the unknown possibilities of existence. Leonard Spock Nimoy A new show on BBC has left me with a sour feeling.
It is not really that the show is bad, or that the host is annoying. It is not that the topic is stupid nor that the episodes are not interesting. It is rather the title that is raising a red flag in my unconscious explorer mind. Neil Olivers new show The Last Explorers tags itself as a series on the golden age of exploration, charting the routes of contact that drew together the farthest reaches of the world. They could have called the show The First Explorers, The Great Explorers, or simply The Golden Age of Exploration. Instead they chose to epitomize these men as the last of their kind, placing them in the same category as any other extinct species. Unfortunately, and sadly, that knot in my stomach, that needle in my brain, is there because I sadly agree with this statement. A little bit more than a year ago, I attended the Royal Geographical Societys Explore weekend and was enchanted by the speech of Arita Baaijens. As she described her journey through the desert with its violent sand storms, she concluded with one of the most sincere and refreshing types of advice I had heard in a very long time: theres a tendency to cover up expeditions and journeys with noble aims. Either to attract sponsors or to give the expedition a sexy or good feel.
But most first timers GO without knowing why they want to follow the Amazon River or reach the North Pole, or cross the biggest desert. Its an inner drive, and its quite a normal thing to do that is why there are so many legends, myths, fairy tales about the Journey of the Hero (Joseph Campbell). Young people want to test their strength, find out who they are, and what their place in he world is. Those journeys are directed towards your inner world, about WHO am I and WHAT is my place in the world, see Tomsons words. And when you have learned more about yourself, your motives, your prejudices and opinions, your place in the world, you are better equipped for another type of expedition, journeys of discovery directed towards the outside world, characterized by WHY HOW.
I think what The Last Explorers means is that the spirit of exploration has changed tremendously in the last decades, and for some, including myself, it is more of a loss than a gain. And nothing could be more evident to support this fact, than what is happening at the Explorers Club in New York at this moment. During my first visit to this historical club with legendary members such as Roald Amundsen, Sir Edmund Hillary, and Neil Armstrong, I was struck with disbelief when at the entrance to the main saloon, I saw a scale model of the ultra luxurious cruise ship The World. Was I at the right place? In the right building? Or had I mistakenly entered an Upper East Side travel agency for wealthy retirees? The latest events that have unfolded in the media seem to be zeroing in precisely on this existential issue. What is exploration? On one side are the New School Explorers, to whom exploration is a blend of commercial adventures surrounded by rich people that can pay their way. R.L. (his name is obviously not revealed) precisely embodies this new genre. He is a hedge fund manager from London who made good money and now can afford to collect exploration badges, making him an explorer. The man, who is more at home in Michelin star restaurants then in a bivouac, pays ridiculous sums to be taken into the wilderness by experts, then claiming the credit for himself. His latest adventure was in Antarctica, where he dished out close to 100,000 to get up and supposedly baptised an unnamed peak (needless to say, with a lot of help). His brashness goes so far, that he now gives talks to children on how to be an explorer! For this type of person, the Club is doing really well, befitting these modern times.
The Clubs supporters defend their position by illustrating how the revenues have increased by adding new members like him money much needed to renovate the crumbling building, suitably located between Madison and Park streets, on the chic Upper East Side, rather than funding new, real adventures. On the other side are the Old School Explorers, who care more about the Spirit of Exploration It is not what you do, but how and why you do it. The debate is surprisingly similar to what went on in the wine industry old world wines which were generally subtle and complex, versus the new world wines, usually described as bold, sweet, simple, and with great emphasis on the packaging. At the end of the line, the core of the issue, whether it is exploration or food, is quite the same: Quality versus Quantity. Local or Global? Small or Big? Does exploration have a Spirit or is it an industry? And if it is an industry, then how can we commercialise it, make it grow and become more profitable? Herein lies the core of the question: Is bigger really better?
Which brings me back to Aritas statement. Present day exploration could be divided into three categories: A rich pastime A personal ego-trip the desire to break a record or make an environmental statement A vague, virtual idea of discovering the planet from behind ones computer (see Nature is not in your computer). It is no longer about wanting to disconnect from overbearing city-life to experience the unknown. It is no more about wanting to escape the crazy modern world to seek true, pristine wilderness. It is no more about a journey to discovering your inner self. What it is today, is a business! The magic of new discoveries has given place to self-centred claims of saving the planet.
I explore because for me, the world makes more sense out there, than here. I explore because nature humbles me. I explore because it reminds me that there is something bigger in life, something sacred and mysterious. I explore because it makes me a better person. And, I really wish we would hear the same narrative from other explorers more often. I just hope I am not part of a dying species! The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.
Marcel Proust By Daniel Fox.