The area in which I live is sometimes referred to as ‘geographically isolated.’ Although we have a town of 70,000 right across the river/international border, it is some distance to even a medium-sized US town. A few villages are 20 to 30 minutes away. There’s a lot of open space, much of it public land. It’s easy to get yourself some distance away from others.
This ability to get away from others factors into our sense of place. There’s something about knowing that you’re some distance from potential rescue that lends a true sense of adventure to even an afternoon’s outing. The wise adventurer is prepared for most eventualities, but things happen. Many of us have stories about how we’ve found ourselves in some predicament or another, but I do not wish to regale you with such tales at this time. Suffice it to say that a recent event involving an colleague’s experience led me to realize that one of the ways in which we interact with our place, one of the ways in which our sense of place informs our lives up here, is the fact that a trip into the woods and fields can become a real adventure.