chris mccandless travel route

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Stampede Trail Hiking Guide: Life & Death at Into The Wild’s Magic Bus

updated: January 29, 2023

A pilgrimage to experience the Alaskan wilderness where Christopher McCandless spent his last days, as portrayed in the book and film – Into The Wild

Magic Bus 142 Removed

On June 18, 2020 the magic bus 142 was removed from the Stampede Trail via helicopter.

This action was taken as a means to prevent unprepared hikers from being tempted to visit the site where Christopher McCandless spent the last days of his life, before his untimely death in August of 1992.

The local communities of Healy and greater Fairbanks were fed up with the frequent utilization of time and resources in the search and rescue of hapless hikers on wayward pilgrimages to the bus.

The Alaska Department of Natural Resources (DNR) arranged for the Alaska Army National Guard to remove the bus as a training exercise, creating a low-cost solution to the community’s dilemma. The guard troops salvaged a suitcase from within the bus as a sentimental keepsake for the McCandless family, and removed a segment of the bus’s roof to facilitate the airlift.

Where is the bus now?

For now, the bus sits at an undisclosed location. The site of the bus’s final resting place is still being decided. Most assume that it will be partially restored and put on display as a sort of museum piece in the Fairbanks region.

The following write-up stands as a now-historic trip report, and as a trail guide to visit the former site of the Fairbanks Bus 142 on Healy’s Stampede Trail.

Guide to the Stampede Trail: Quick Facts

MAP: Trails Illustrated shows the entirety of Denali National Park, but the scale is too small for navigation. PERMITS: no permit needed DESIGNATION: state of Alaska public land BEST SEASONS: May and September DISTANCE: 37.2 miles (60 kilometers) round trip ELEVATION: trailhead 2,150ft – bus 1,900ft ACCESS: mostly paved roads to the trailhead – the last 4 miles are graded dirt. DIRECTIONS: From the 49th State Brewery in Healy, Alaska, travel north on AK Route 3 (George Parks Highway) for 2.8 miles. Turn left on Stampede Road, and continue as far up the road as you can. See more details in the article below. ROUTE:  The Stampede “Trail” is actually a muddy, double-track ATV road, but getting to the bus involves two major river crossings. GUIDEBOOK:  Denali Guidebook is wonderful for the National Park, but it does NOT include the Stampede Trail.

WARNING: Don’t be a statistic

Hiking to the Magic Bus is a dangerous endeavor!

Young, healthy people have lost their lives on this trip.

Get some backpacking experience.

The Stampede Trail is not the place to learn how to go backpacking. If you’re reading this guide to find the answer to a simple question like “What kind of food should I bring?” that’s great, but please go get some backpacking experience before coming to Alaska.

Grizzly bears live here.

Learn how to avoid getting eaten .

You must wade through a deadly river.

I imagine that you’ve seen the Into the Wild movie . Do you remember how Chris had to walk through a big river, and he later found it to be impassable? That wasn’t just Hollywood. That’s the Teklanika River, and you’ll have to do the same thing.

The Teklanika River is impassable for most of the summer.

Even when it IS passable, the river is still extremely dangerous. You’ll find some tips here specific to this crossing, but previous experience is preferred.

Carry extra food, and consider a communication device.

A common of cause of rescue on the Stampede Trail is when family and friends call authorities after you’re overdue. Most trips are overdue because of poor planning, and/or hikers getting stranded on the far side of the Teklanika River when the water rises.

Watch the weather . If temperatures are predicted to rise, the river will rise and you’ll be stranded, just like McCandless. For this reason, it’s best to carry extra food (though running out of food is NOT cause for rescue!), and allow extra time for your trip.

A two-way communication device is especially helpful in this scenario. With such a tool, you can reach out and tell the folks at home that you’re alive and well, and just waiting for the water level to subside.

You DID tell someone where you’re going and when you expect to be back, didn’t you?

RULE NUMBER ONE – Don’t Die.

RULE NUMBER TWO – Don’t Require a Rescue. You’re getting yourself into this, so you’re expected to get yourself out of it.

Magic Bus Location

The Fairbanks Bus 142 was on The Stampede Trail, generally accessed via a serious, 37-mile backpacking trip in the Alaskan Wilderness. Its former site is an open clearing on the trail near the Shushana River

Access to the Stampede Trail begins near the small town of Healy, Alaska . The trail is on state land, but it’s surrounded on three sides by Denali National Park.

Google Maps actually has the GPS coordinates of the bus’s original location.

Driving Directions

From the 49th State Brewery in Healy, travel north on AK Route 3 (George Parks Highway) for 2.8 miles. Turn left on Stampede Road.

The road is paved for the first 4 miles. The next mile is well-graded gravel, but continuing much farther requires a high clearance, 4 wheel drive vehicle or ATV.

Vehicle travel deteriorates near Eightmile Lake, which is considered to be the trailhead.

After the road turns into gravel, there’s a number of pullouts where you may park – so long as you’re not parking at the entrance to a private driveway.

The entirety of the Stampede “Trail” is actually an old road bed. These days it’s a soggy, often submerged double track that’s suitable only for the hardiest of ATVs.

You’re technically allowed to drive an ATV all the way to the bus, provided that you can safely cross the Teklanika River.

Snowmobile or dogsled passage is an option in winter, when the rivers are frozen.

Stampede Trail Map

Here’s some maps that I made from a USGS quad, showing the Stampede Trail.

The second map is simply a zoomed version of the first one.

The red line is the border of Denali National Park. At the bottom of the first map you can see a couple of the park’s notable features, specifically Primrose Ridge and Mount Healy .

You can right-click on these maps to view larger versions or download them.

Timing – When to Go

The best time to hike to the bus depends on the best time to ford the Teklanika River!

The source of the river is a glacier, high in the Alaska Range. So the best time to go is when the glacier is not actively melting .

Okay, so when isn’t it melting?

Obviously in winter (when the rivers are actually frozen), but in winter you’ll have a mess of other problems to deal with, like short daylight hours and bone-chilling temperatures.

Mid-summer (June, July, August) is statistically one of the worst times to go. The sun stays up almost all night long. Glaciers are actively melting throughout this warmest time of the year, so the rivers are at their peak!

This leaves us with spring and fall, which are the best times to attempt this hike.

The timing is still tricky – there’s a short window in spring when the lower snows are melting, but the higher glaciers are still frozen. This most often occurs in May .

You can catch similar conditions in September . Temperatures are cooling at this time, but heavy snowstorms have yet to accumulate.

So that’s the big picture as far as timing, but conditions can change on a daily basis . Alaskan weather can be pretty wild, with heavy rainfall and daily fluctuations in temperature.

Watching the weather is paramount to your success. Immediately prior to your hike (and while you’re out there!), you should constantly be assessing the weather. Determine what’s going on with the high glaciers and the greater watershed of the Teklanika River at all times .

A common cause of rescues is that hikers will cross the river safely, spend a night at the bus, and return a day or two later to find that the river has become impassable!

Recommended Itineraries

Some folks have measured the one-way length of the trail at 18.6 miles (30 kilometers), but this largely depends on how far you get up the road at the trailhead, and how well you stay on the trail.

Count on a round-trip hike of roughly 40 miles.

Since fording the Teklanika River is the key to having a successful hike, my recommended itineray is built around the crucial river crossings. The best general practice is do the crossing early in the morning, when cool overnight temperatures have decreased the rate of snowmelt.

• trailhead to the near side of Teklanika River (10 miles, or 16 kilometers)
• Teklanika River to Magic Bus (8.6 miles, or  14 kilometers – cross Tek River this morning)
• Magic Bus to the near side of Teklanika (8.6 miles)
• Teklanika River to trailhead (10 miles, cross Tek River this morning)
• trailhead to near side of Teklanika River (10 miles, or 16 kilometers)
• Teklanika River to Magic Bus and back (17.2 miles, 28k – cross Tek river this morning)
• Teklanika River to trailhead (10 miles, cross Tek river this morning)

Though it’s possible for extremely fit and experienced backpackers to do this in less time, please don’t try it! The terrain is terribly slow.

Expect a wet, muddy slog.

The river crossings aren’t the only places where you’ll have to walk in water. At times, much of the Stampede Trail can basically be its own river of snowmelt.

You’ll find yourself trudging through stagnant water, and sometimes wondering if you’re still on the trail. Expect your feet to be wet for the entirety of the hike.

Trail Description

As previously mentioned, the trail is actually an old double-track road. Sometimes you’ll cross other ATV roads (especially in the first few miles) but the Stampede Trail should be clearly discernible as the main track.

A GPS device can be very helpful, but should never be relied upon as your sole means of navigation. Rather than blindly following a GPS, it’s best to use your wits – only check the device when you’re confused or unsure how to proceed.

Warnings about the Teklanika River rightfully prevail, but the Savage River is no slouch either. Reached approximately at mile 7.5, you’ll likely be deep into your first day when you have to cross it. It’s wider and less swift than the Teklanika, so it will be good practice.

The miles immediately prior to the Savage River are some of the trail’s muddiest, negotiating deep ponds formed by beaver activity along Fish Creek.

The infamous Teklanika is about 10 miles into the hike. Confusion reigns on the far side of the river, where’s there’s a network of beaver ponds that can make it tricky to relocate the trail, especially after traveling upstream to make the best crossing.

Take your time here. The trail on the west shore of the river is found upstream of the place where it meets its eastern shore.

The remaining miles from the Teklankia River to the Magic Bus are primarily high, dry, and straightforward. The bus itself is directly on the trail. “You can’t miss it!”

9 Tips to Safely Cross the Teklanika River

Almost all of the accidents and rescues on the Stampede Trail are directly related to the Teklanika River.

1) If the water is above your waist, don’t do it!

I know you’ve invested a lot into getting this far. At the river you’ll be SO CLOSE to your goal, and you may be tempted to do something stupid. STOP!

That rusty old bus isn’t worth your life. Remember this.

Maybe you had perfect timing… you’re here in May or September, but unseasonably warm temperatures have caused the river to run above your waist. Don’t proceed!

Or maybe you’re in an even more beguiling situation, where the river looks good, but tomorrow’s weather forecast calls for a spike in the air temperature. Likewise, don’t proceed! This is how people get stranded on the west side of the Teklankika.

You can still go back and have a wonderful (and infintely more scenic) hike in Denali National Park , and enjoy a beer at the movie-set-bus at the 49th State Brewery. If you’re still determined to get to the bus, plan another trip for next year, and try again.

2) Never tie yourself into a rope

Both of the deaths on the trail involved using a fixed rope!

If you find a rope tied across the river, you best choice is to ignore it.

3) Take your time to find the best crossing

The best place to cross the Teklanika River is NOT where the trail from the east meets it. Not only is the water swift and deep here, but there’s a series of rapids immediatly below, where the river drops into a canyon.

Go upstream to find finder a wider, more shallow location where the river splits into separate channels.

Before stepping into the water, be sure to have envisioned your ideal “trail” across the river.

4) Use hiking poles, or at least a sturdy stick

Having 4 available points of contact with the slippery riverbed is infinitely better than just 2.

5) Keep your shoes on, but consider removing your pants

Walking barefoot on the stony riverbed is begging for trouble.

By the time you get to the Teklankika, your socks and shoes should already be soaked. Frankly, if you don’t want to get your feet wet and/or cannot backpack for 40 miles in damp shoes without getting blisters, then you shouldn’t be here.

Removing your pants, however, isn’t a bad idea. First of all, you’ll keep them dry. Second, soaked pants won’t keep your legs any warmer in the freezing water. Third (and most importantly), loose pants have more surface area, creating more drag and pulling on your precious balance.

Even if you’re just wearing tights or yoga pants, why not keep them dry?

6) Loosen up that backpack

• Undo your hip buckle.
• Undo your sternum strap.
• Loosen those shoulder straps.

If you fail to do this and end up losing your footing, you’re a goner. That backpack will take on extra weight and drown you.

With everything loosened, you’ll be able to shed your backpack in the swift, freezing water – creating a much better opportunity to regain your feet and swim to safety.

7) Move with deliberate, steady speed

After you’ve stepped into the water, face upstream and move in a diagonal direction – upstream and across the river. Move only one point of contact off of the riverbed at a time. Those of you familiar with rock climbing may know the rule of keeping “3 points of contact.” The same logic applies to fording rivers.

If you’re hiking in a group (you’re not solo, right?) then your team may have a few weak links (aka short people, sorry). In this case, where you have a significant difference in the strength of your party members, you may want to try holding a pole as a link between you.

Trust and good communication are essential for this. You and your partner each have a single walking stick for balance. A third stick is held in your free hands, linking you together like a chain, and you move across the river as a team. This way, if a single member goes down (and the others keep their feet), the swimmer has an immediate lifeline.

Under no circumstances should you tie yourself to a rope.

Finally, you must be sure and deliberate with each step, but don’t get stuck standing in the water for too long. It’s freezing, so each passing second increases your chances of an accident. Be decisive and keep moving as steadily as possible. If you find yourself fearing the next step forward for too long, go back!

8) Practice Makes Perfect

Get some experience in fording rivers (with a heavy backpack) prior to your trip. The Alaskan tundra is not the place to begin learning this essential skill!

Two popular destinations that include safer river crossings come to mind – the Appalachian Trail in Maine and the John Muir Trail in California. I’m sure there’s many more, closer to you.

Do a “shakedown” hike in Denali

Since you’re traveling all the way to Alaska to hike the swampy Stampede Trail, you may as well do a practice hike in Denali National Park . If you insist on attempting the Stampede Trail with little previous backpacking experience, this is the best way to get it.

I recommend getting an overnight permit for Unit 4. Spend the first day traveling as far upstream along the Savage River as you can, and retrace your steps on day 2. Be sure to cross the river a few times, so you can get accustomed to the glacial water and backpacking with wet feet.

In addition to the obvious benefits of doing a practice hike immediately before the Stampede Trail, you’ll have the advantage of hearing the local tips directly from Denali’s park rangers when you get your permit.

9) Consider Packrafting

The safest way to ford the Teklanika River is not to do it at all! Why not try investing in a lightweight packraft and learning how to use it?

This is infinitely safer than fording the river. It also opens up the timing of your trip, making a mid-summer hike possible.

Alpacka makes the best rafts. It’s possible that some local retailers may even have them to rent – specifically AMH in Anchorage and Beaver Sports in Fairbanks. Contact the stores directly to inquire about rentals.

This packraft on Amazon looks tempting for an affordable and sensible choice, though I personally haven’t tried it out.

Build a fire?

Some folks would recommend building a fire before crossing the river. At first this sounds like a good idea – should there be any trouble, you have an immediate source of heat to revive someone from hypothermia.

But then, of course, there’s the logistical problem of putting the fire out – the last person to cross the river would have to do this. If there’s only two of you, going to all this trouble doesn’t make much sense.

A better idea is to set up the kindling and fuel, but don’t light it – only light the fire if you get into trouble.

Personally, I feel that you should have enough confidence in a successful crossing that a fire should not be necessary. If you feel the need to have the safety net of a fire, then I suspect that the water is too high and you shouldn’t be getting into the river at all .

Hiking in Bear Country

Grizzly bears roam freely out here. Take the necessary precautions!

For a comprehensive take on safe practices in bear country, see my article 12 Ways to Avoid Getting Eaten by a Bear .

Here’s some gear recommendations that are specific to hiking the Stampede Trail.

Trekking Poles

I’ve mentioned that poles are essential to safely ford the rivers.

Fancy trekking poles are wonderful if you already have some, but a good, sturdy stick can serve the same purpose. Some say it’s actually better to have a wider stick for river crossings, because the pointy end of trekking poles tends to get jammed in stony river beds.

If you’re looking for quality trekking poles anyway, these are my favorite .

I tend to prefer light, low-top shoes as opposed to boots, even in the Alaskan tundra. So-called “waterproof” boots may sound enticing, but your feet will get wet in these anyway! When I hear “waterproof shoes,” my brain hears “non-breathable, slow-drying shoes.”

Wear something that’s comfortable, breathable, and most of all, won’t give you blisters! Using shoes with grippy soles is a great idea, like those found on the La Sportiva TX3 .

My favorite backpack for the last few years has been the Hyperlite Southwest 3400 .

Hyperlite is making some of the lightest gear on the market right now, and it’s waterproof and durable. So if you should slip at one of the river crossings, regain your footing, and recover your pack, your critical gear should stay dry.

Bear Safety Gear

For food storage I use the Bearvault 500 bear canister.

I think it’s best to wait to get bear spray until you’re in Alaska. The mace is a hazardous item, with consequent travel restrictions. I’ve always carried this , and fortunately I’ve never had to use it.

If you’re especially concerned about bears, consider the color of your tent. A bright-orange tent will draw more unwanted attention than a green one.

Mosquitoes!

Usually I don’t mind bugs too much, but the mosquitoes in Alaska can be horrible.

It’s wise to have long pants and long sleeves. The material used in rain jackets and rain pants is particularly effective at keeping the mosquitoes from biting through your clothes.

If you’re going to use bug spray, the only stuff that even has a chance of being effective is 100% DEET .

It may seems silly to consider wearing a headnet , but it can make all the difference in the world!

Water Treatment

Water sources on the Stampede Trail are plentiful, but they must be treated.

The water out here is especially prone to carrying giardia. There’s a reason they call it beaver fever, and there’s a lot of beaver activity out here!

Personally I treat water with Aquamira , but plenty of filtration methods are great too.

For a basic gear checklist , to make sure you’re not forgetting anything (and/or bringing too much), you can browse my simple gear chart .

For more extensive but straightforward details on backpacking gear, check out my ultimate gear list .

The Stampede Trail’s route was first established by settlers in 1903. Prospectors were searching the area for gold, and primarily trying to access the Kantishna region of today’s Denali National Park.

Colorado native Earl Pilgrim used the route in the 1930s to mine antimony from the region.

Shortly after Alaska won its statehood, a subsidized project was started to improve and/or construct roads to Alaskan mining claims. The project was short lived, beginning and ending with the Stampede Trail.

Yutan Construction got the contract to build the Stampede Road, and the company was responsible for placing the infamous Fairbanks Bus 142 (The 2020 removal of the bus by the Alaska Army Natinonal Guard was coined “Operation Yutan”).

Yutan was using the bus to haul their employees between Fairbanks and the work site. The broke an axle and was abandoned at its former location on the Stampede Trail, likely in 1960 or 1961 – when work on the road was completed.

Regular maintenance on the road was abandoned shortly thereafter, in 1963.

The Stampede Trail’s swath of State Land cuts conspicuously into the surrounding Denali National Park. It was left out of the Park’s expansion in 1980. To this day. it’s a popular area for hunters, trappers, and now backpackers.

Guided Tours

Their are no guided backpacking or ATV tours that go to the Magic Bus 142.

A couple of ATV tours utilize the Stampede Trail, but they only take you to the Savage River.

Stampede Excursions offers a helicopter tour to the bus. They land there at the site, and you get about 30 minutes to explore and experience the bus. The cost for this is listed as $536.

Accidents and Deaths

The Stampede Trail’s crossing at the Teklanika River has tragically taken 2 young lives.

Veranika Nikonova, of Belarus, drowned on July 25, 2019. She was a 24 year-old newlywed, married in New York only a month prior to her death. She died in her young husband’s arms.

In August of 2010, Claire Ackermann of Swizterland suffered a similar fate, drowning in the Teklanika. She was 29 years old, and backpacking with her boyfriend Etienne Gros, 27, from France.

Taking an objective look at these sad incidents, they have some striking similarities:

• Both were young European women.
• Both drowned in the Teklanika River
• Both were using a rope to aid their crossing. Ackermann had tied herself into a rope, whereas Nikonova was using a rope as a hand line.

Here’s a list of rescue incidents, gathered from reports in the Fairbanks newspaper.

This list is far from comprehensive.

Healy’s fire chief is quoted to have rescued 12 hikers in a single summer.

July 2010 – Four teenagers were rescued by state troopers, after being reported more than 7 hours overdue. They were local Alaskans, all aged 16 and 17. Their vehicle got stuck, and they were separated. Troopers say they were cold and wet when found, but didn’t require medical attention.

February 2011 – A 24 year-old man from Singapore was found about a mile from the bus, and assisted out by rescuers. He’d been reported as overdue to authorities.

May 2013 – Three German hikers, aged 19, 20, and 21, were rescued after the water rose as they were trying to hike out. They barely made it back across the Teklanika, and chose not to attempt crossing the Savage River. A man in Healy had met them prior to their trip, and reported them overdue.

June 2013 – A group of three hikers successfully used a signal mirror to alert a military helicopter for rescue. An Army spokesman said “One of the females had a twisted ankle, but I guess what was really keeping them in place was the water level of the Teklanika River.” They’d ran out of food and were stranded on the west side of the river after the water rose.

June 2013 – State Troopers received a call for help from a group of hikers at the bus. A 25 year-old female from Florida had a non-life-threatening, lower leg injury.

August 2014 – A party of three hikers called for help near the Teklanika River, catching a ride back to Healy via ATVs (Thanks to the local fire department). One of the group had injured himself with an ax.

June 2016 – Two American men, aged 25 and 27, were reported overdue. They’d accessed the bus by approaching it from the west, but the hike took longer than anticipated. They tried to shortcut out via the Stampede Trail, but found the Teklanika’s water to be chest deep.

August 2016 – A 22 year-old man from Canada activated a personal locator beacon on the west side of the Teklanika. Minor injuries, heavy rain, and rising water led to his decision to call for rescue.

September 2016 – A 45 year-old man from Mexico was found by searchers, after being reported overdue. He was trying to access the bus from Riley Creek Campground in Denali National Park.

June 2017 – A 42 year-old man from Belgium was rescued on the west side of the Teklanika River. He had non-life-threatening injuries that rendered him unable to cross the river.

February 2020 – 5 Italian hikers were rescued from the trail after one their party began to succumb to severe frostbite. They called for help via a satellite device.

April 2020 – A 26 year-old Brazilian hiker was rescued after triggering a satellite device. He had run out of food.

My Trip Report and Photos

After moving to Healy, I locally encountered a lot of negativity and discouragement about wanting to do this notorious hike “Just to see a bus where some kid died.”

Before I went up to Denali, an experienced friend made me a list of the best hikes to do over the course of the season. The Stampede Trail was chronologically #1 on the list, with the emphasis that it needed to be done before the end of May (Before the Teklanika River would get too high).

It would be my first backpacking trip in Alaska, so there was this new world of tundra and grizzly bears and river crossings to get used to.

Since I’d just started a new job, it would be difficult to get adequate time off before June. Some employees from our company missed a few days of work the previous year, when the river swelled too much for them to safely return.

Most local Alaskans discourage people from doing the hike, so there was an overall doom & gloom psychology about the Stampede Trail. It was a “weird” spring in Alaska, and the general consensus was that the Teklanika was probably too high already.

I had basically given up on this hike to the bus, figuring I’d have to wait until the end of the season. But then the first days of June came around, and I got the proverbial fire lit under my butt when we found ourselves with a few days off of work.

One local hiker (Who happens to do SAR in area, including a few calls along the Stampede Trail) was especially encouraging, telling me that the rivers were still quite low.

There was so much talk and speculation about fording the Teklanika, but I knew none of that really mattered until we’d have the opportunity to stand on the edge of the river for ourselves.

We found a ride and put it together with just two days off of work, as a two-and-a-half day hike.

Day One – Eight-Mile Lake to the Teklanika River

So we suddenly found ourselves being dropped off by a new friend at the end of the Stampede Road. The scenario already had an eerie subtext, as McCandless was dropped off at basically the same location. The surrounding wilderness appeared vaguely familiar, as though remembered from his photos and scenery in the movie. It was 6pm.

Here’s a link to a photo of Chris before he set off from the same general area.

The Stampede Trail begins as a wide (but rough and muddy) dirt road. The path is often outright flooded, and it’s likely that your feet will get wet long before the first crossing at Savage River.

Despite the two ATV tours that passed us, the overall silence was oppressive.

We started our hike at 6pm, but early June in Alaska means long days… sunset would not be until close to midnight, and the night would never become completely dark.

Thanks to our late schedule, we were lucky to see two beavers! I’d encountered countless beaver dams on my previous hikes, but never spotted any of the elusive beasts until today.

The beaver swam back and forth in front of us, as though it was pacing and marking its territory. Periodically it slapped its tail on the surface of the water with authority, making a sharp sound before diving underneath the surface.

At first it was really neat to see the beavers, but by the end of the hike we were frustrated with all of the destruction they’d made of the trail. I once read that beavers are the second-most destructive creatures to their habitat on earth… second to humans, of course.

After a few hours we came to the Savage River – the first of the two significant rivers that we had to cross. It was less than knee-deep – a good sign – but the water was ice-cold !

It was so cold that I lost all the feeling in my feet, despite a relatively short crossing. I couldn’t feel my toes again until about ten minutes after the fact.

To our relief, the path climbed up and away from the wettest areas as the day grew old.

At times the spruce forest “taiga” closed in about us, creating a passing claustrophobic effect. We tried to make a lot of noise to avoid startling any bears.

It was about 11pm when we reached the Teklanika River. Our rate of travel had felt slow, so it was a surprise and relief to see our destination so soon. We planned to camp on the near shore of the river in order to facilitate an early morning crossing, when the water is supposed to be at its lowest.

Our first impression of the river was that the water seemed relatively low and doable. Yes! Everything hung on the water level of the Tek, and this was cause for some early (But cautionary) celebration!

We found a good spot for the tent and enjoyed dinner in grizzly country.

Day Two – There and Back (To the Teklanika) Again

We slept later than we wanted to this morning, until 9 or 10am. It’s often hard for a weekend warrior to resist the extra hours of sleep in the backcountry. 🙂

The river seemed low enough last night, so hopefully the extra few hours of sleep wouldn’t be a problem.

Soon it was time to ford the Tek.

The best and safest place to cross the river is upstream of here, where it splits into multiple braids.

We traveled upstream and scouted out the best spot. Weighing a few options along the way, we zeroed in on a particular place and got ourselves ready, tightening our shoelaces and doing an extra bit of waterproofing.

Once all the preparations were set, we did a safety overview and just went for it.

First of all, we were sure to unbuckle the hip belts and sternum straps on our backpacks. We each had a hiking pole to use for stabilization. In our other hand(s) we carried a long, lateral stick that kept us together, as we both held onto each end of it.

This was my first time experimenting with such a shared stick method, and it worked well. Finally, I tried to stay directly in the upstream line of my partner to break the current. We were conscious of using a two-point method by keeping two points of contact (2 out of 3) with the bottom of the river at all times.

Soon it was all over, and we’d forded the Teklanika! Besides the fact that our lower limbs were frozen solid on the far shore, it was all fairly simple – the water was only about two inches above my knees (I’m 6’0).

We found it to be a little confusing to locate where the Stampede Trail leaves the west side of the river. This was the most frustrating part of the trip, as we lost about an hour trying to find it.

It looks like the trail disappears into a metropolis of beaver ponds, but after a while we finally found the track that continues to the west.

The remaining terrain was easy-walking, and uneventful. We gradually climbed up through the woods and contoured the crest of a low ridgeline. Water was everywhere, but the trail was forgivingly dry. A stiff, cold wind blew at times, with occasional rain showers.

There was a brisk, sporadic rain throughout the entire trip, and we were lucky that it was never especially wet or freezing. The weather forecast before the hike had us expecting consistent rain and low temps.

This kind of weather may seem negative, but it was actually ideal because it kept the mosquitoes at bay. More importantly, a warmer, sunnier day would have caused the rivers to rise.

All of our time on Stampede Trail was fittingly silent and damp, with a gloomy aura.

After a while the terrain began to look familiar, or maybe it felt familiar because of scenes from the movie.

The film depicts Chris first stumbling upon the bus as it sits on an upper ridge to his right, so we were keeping our eyes open for a similar setting.

The miles wore on, and for a long time it felt as though the bus could be just around the corner. I even allowed myself to begin wondering if we’d somehow passed it.

Consciously making noise and saying “Hey bear,” was getting tiresome.

Suddenly I saw it.

The shape of the bus materialized through the trees.

It sits on the trail in a sizable clearing, slightly to the south. You can’t miss it. My partner went in through the bus’s door almost immediately. I lingered outside, taking in the scene and snapping photos.

We were excited to be here, but soon the somber atmosphere of the place would have its effect.

The bus itself is in really poor shape. The iconic “142” on the side has been shot out with bullet holes. Most of the windows are gone too, replaced by a green tarp that flaps in the idle breeze. The green paint is fading away, revealing a yellow coat beneath it.

Outside the bus – near the back door – there’s a pile of what can be described as nothing more than a sprawling collection of garbage.

The steering wheel has been removed by souvenir hunters, as well as the great majority of Chris’s original artifacts. The dilapidated condition of the place makes it that much more lonely and austere.

The suitcase was left by Chris’s mother, on her first visit here after his death.

Joined by Jon Krakauer, she had it stocked as a cache of survival gear for wayward travelers, hoping to prevent others from suffering the same fate as her son.

Now it just contains a number of odds and ends, including a couple of notebooks for visitors to sign in and jot down their thoughts.

The interior of the bus is adorned in graffiti. It only takes a quick look around to realize that a lot of time has passed since Chris was here, and that hundreds of people have made it a place of their own over the years.

I didn’t realize how deeply McCandless’s story affected so many people until I browsed the pages and pages of thoughtful register entries. There was a significant portion of entries written in French, and I mused that the film must have been a big hit in Europe.

Like so many foreign films that are heavy in meaningful dialogue and family drama, maybe the Europeans championed Chris’s rejection of American consumerism and the like… “ Oh, if that boy were only born in Le France… “

In all seriousness, it’s clear that many regard the bus as a memorial and a sort of shrine to a mythical notion of Carpe Diem. I’d even go so far as to paint McCandless to be viewed as a sort of Jesus character who sacrificed himself so that others could learn to live deeper and more fulfilling lives.

We were here in early June of 2014, so it was neat to see that Chris’s sister had been here so recently – possibly just a matter of days before us.

Finally we had to tear ourselves away from this place and return down the trail. Our itinerary called for a long day today, to be back at the Tek tonight and set for an early-morning river crossing.

Just a couple of hours here felt like it wasn’t enough, but we agreed that spending the night would have been too much .

It was a ghostly place, yet so very real and tangible. The story of McCandless involved everyday people, and it ended here.

The weather momentarily improved during our return hike, allowing for some clearer views of the Alaskan scenery.

We saw our first ptarmigan on the way back to the Teklanika. It’s the state bird of Alaska (Second to the mosquito, of course!), and these birds made up a good part of McCandless’s diet while he was out here.

We also met the first pair of backpackers that we’d see out here – two guys in their twenties that spoke very little English.

We set up camp and cooked our dinner under a light, steady, unpleasant rain.

The above photo was taken few minutes after midnight. The sky glowed deeply like this for more than a full half-hour after sunset, because of the more-horizontal course of the sun.

In other words, sunset in Alaska lasts for a very long time.

Day Three – Returning on the Stampede Trail toward Healy

The skies began to clear overnight, and we woke to the first bit of sun of the trip. The river seemed to have receded a couple of inches since yesterday, so crossing it this morning was significantly easier – especially with the confidence that we’d done it once before.

Being on the homeward side of the river was cause for celebration.

We made it to the bus!

The mood was light as we made our way back to civilization.

All of the biggest obstacles were behind us, and we were happy and satisfied to have experienced such an iconic destination. We speculated a lot about McCandless’s activities.

There wasn’t anything left, except to enjoy the walk.

Soon we reached the road and called our friend for a ride back to Healy.

The Saga Continues

Carine McCandless’s testimonials are just one way that the Into The Wild saga continues.

There’s still debate and further speculation about how Chris truly may have died. Does it really matter? The simple explanation of starvation is enough for me.

Finally, there’s a lot of talk about the current state of the Stampede Trail to the bus, and how it’s a hazardous magnet for countless pilgrims who get in over their heads. Most local Alaskans would love to see the bus removed and placed closer to the highway, or rather for the whole Christopher McCandless story to disappear altogether.

A Replica of the Bus, and great food and local beer

For the great majority of visitors who aren’t interested in hiking the Stampede Trail, the excellent 49th State Brewery has acquired the replica of the bus that was used for the movie set.

They keep it on their front lawn, clearly visible from the George Parks Highway. Inside the bus they have a gallery of Chris’s original photos, with detailed captions and pages from his journal. It’s definitely worth checking out.

The author imitates McCandless’s classic pose at the real “magic bus,” nearly 22 years after Chris’s death in August of 1992.

Related posts:

About Jamie Compos

I'm the guy behind DownTheTrail.com. I love the outdoors, and the Grand Canyon is my favorite destination. Be sure to subscribe to my newsletter (at the bottom of the page), or else I'll slip a rock into your backpack when you're not looking.

December 27, 2022 at 3:30 pm

Good story in general but it is obvious that your list misses the most important information. Not only Chris died but others too …

2019, 24-year-old hiker has died on the Trail on the way to the bus as well as a death of a hiker in 2010 when Claire Ackermann drowned attempting to ford the Teklanika River.

I have NO simpathy with any person that get’s injured or dies on this trail and Alaska should claim the money from each one they rescue.

So even we removed the bus, it is clear that the pilgrimage will not stop any time soon. Hence, all the best to the life tired ones so that they will not follow Chris to the very end of his journey.

Hence – life tired due to not being prepared is evident from the list you shared.

Being Alaskan, this is not the publisity we need, neither do we need people coming here gambling with their lifes.

Honestly, seeing the net full of the story even after 30 years, it is

December 27, 2022 at 3:34 pm

insane. I would like to see a more objective view but your story is like most others I have seen – it can encourage others and they may face another situation.

Up here we say, Alaska always changes your plans.

Good luck and all the best.

Cheers, Ela

December 27, 2022 at 4:05 pm

Thanks for your comment Ela. The dated “rescues” lists is only for rescues – the two deaths you mentioned appear under the main “Accidents & Deaths heading. I first put together this write-up while the bus was still out there, and I felt (and still think) that it’s best to have this information available for those who are still determined to go out there. I think it’s unlikely to draw more people, though, since the bus has been removed. A much better outdoor experience is available in Denali National Park.

January 15, 2023 at 4:12 pm

Thanks for your reply! Sorry, indeed you reference the death and turn them into Accidents with death headings … considering in both cases there was a second person, unable to rescue actually makes it worth? By all means, this is the same ignorance that Chris had shown by ignoring the warnings of an experienced local (who actually gave him a pair of rubber boots as we know) and not being prepared by knowing how he could have crossed the river not really far away. I call this stupidity and why it makes me so mad is simply because a friend lost his life while trying to rescue another stupid human on the Harding Icefield Trail. People come here and think they do a walk in a park. I do like your page but would wish you remove this one story and not encourage more people with it. Even the bus is gone, the madness will not end and you can even find posts that complain that we removed the bus as if it belonged to Chris. You are different as you are experienced in hiking. People are not after the boys spirit, it is all about their own selfpromotion – hence proudly present themselfs that they made it. If people say they follow his footprints and spirit – ridiculous consider they fly up here with their pockets full of money and the social securness to do an emergency call to be rescued. They bring themself and others in danger just to post a selfie that confirms they made it. My personal view, the only point where they follow Chris is in ignorance and stupidity. Please don’t take this personal but it really touches me as it always reminds me on the friend I lost. If I could make a wish right now, don’t post this but instead remove this one. My view, as your webpage is a lot more professional – you are actually encouraging people even more than others. At the end, you would not even know if someone followed your story and may end up with Chris. Take care and all the best for any future hikes – really impressive to see how much ground you covered. Thanks for your attention. Cheers, Ela

January 15, 2023 at 4:49 pm

Ups, forgot to mention that the article of Eva Holland is no longer in the web, hence your link to it is useless. I checked her webpage and it is also not accessable anymore. Maybe she removed it for good reasons – I hope.

June 9, 2021 at 3:34 pm

Hello! I am heading to Alaska this July and have rented a house right on Stampede Road. I am not planning on going to the site of the bus on this trip, however I do plan to do so sometime in the future. I was wondering if you think it is possible to hike to the Teklanika River and back to Eight mile lake in one day. Thanks for the guide!

June 9, 2021 at 8:48 pm

I’d say it’s possible, but only if you’re in superb hiking shape. You’re looking at 20 miles round trip over wet and often muddy terrain.

April 15, 2021 at 9:50 pm

Thank you for all this precious and very detailed info! It isn’t enough information on the internet about this Trail. I am planning to go even if the bus has been removed The Trail itself sounds and looks like sort of test to a physical, mental abilities and to your common sense (if you can stop when the conditions are NOT for the river crossing or to continue further).

Thank you again, And thanks to Chris for discovering this one.

Best wishes, Elena M.

November 29, 2023 at 11:09 pm

Excellent article, very well written and lots of good advice. I don’t think anyone could blame your article for encouraging people to go there – if they’re determined to go, they will do it no matter what anyone says, at least you warn them of all the pitfalls. (I would have thought a rope was a great idea for crossing the river) I’m an Alaskan and if I had been tempted to visit a place where some poor soul starved to death (I wouldn’t) I definitely wouldn’t go after reading about the treacherous river crossings- not my idea of fun! I don’t understand the draw of that site, it’s very sad. Thanks for an excellent read, keep up the good work!

January 27, 2021 at 8:20 am

Ever since I heard about his story i keep searching for more and more and info I can find. I can relate to his story in many ways. Going off grid maybe for a bit. I would love to hike that trail one day it’s like it’s calling my name to come see for myself. Does it look dangerous oh yes but would love to hike that trail even though the bus is no longer there.

October 14, 2020 at 10:29 am

Hey Jamie, Good read. I Hiked to the bus on September 13th 2011. Sad to see the Bus is gone now. I worked for the Jeep Safari during the Summer of 2011. Your information for the hike is spot on. It was good to read your info and remind myself of the adventure. Thanks for the Article.

Best Regards! Brandon Kelsey

October 14, 2020 at 2:23 pm

Thanks for reaching out Brandon, it feels great to hear when I’m doing something right 🙂

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Into the Wild

Jon krakauer, everything you need for every book you read..

Chris’s Map Symbol Timeline in Into the Wild

Into The Wild 142 Bus

The Magic Bus

The Bus from the story has many names – The Magic Bus, The Stampede Trail Bus, the 142 Bus, Fairbanks Bus etc etc. What rings true with this bus is that it is very special. It has been made special by the story, the many visitors that go there, its remoteness and the feeling it gives those affected by this story. Unfortunately, some people have perished getting to the bus and so I feel it necessary to provide those wishing to visit the bus, some information.

*Note* The Fairbanks City 142 Magic bus has been moved.

Bus 142 was removed from the Alaska wilderness in the summer of 2020 and later deposited at the University of Alaska Museum of the North for long-term curation and exhibition.

University of Alaska, Fairbanks Campus 1962 Yukon Drive Fairbanks, AK 99775

Restoring the Magic Bus to its early 90s condition, prior to it suffering further damage from vandalism, is a time-consuming endeavor. The restoration work is currently underway in the Engineering Building’s high-bay area, which features full glass walls and is open to the public for free from 8 am to 8 pm, Monday through Friday.

To get there, you can either take a shuttle bus from the museum or enjoy a 15-minute walk. For additional information, visitors can reach out to the museum at (907) 474-7505. The final exhibit will be constructed in a protected and suitable outdoor location, with discussions ongoing about an accompanying indoor exhibit.

Once finished, the public will have free access to the exhibit(s) during regular museum hours.

https://www.uaf.edu/museum/collections/ethno/projects/bus_142/

Information from the University of Alaska about the 142 bus:

Thanks to a collaboration between the UAF’s Institute of Northern Engineering (INE) and the Arctic Infrastructure Development Center (AIDC), the general public can now visit the bus from 8:00 am to 8:00 pm, Monday to Friday, at the ConocoPhillips Alaska High Bay Structural Testing Lab located in the Joseph E. Usibelli Engineering Learning and Innovation Building (JUB) on the UAF campus. This opportunity is available until mid-September 2023.

This museum project will involve a multi-year effort to preserve the aging bus, which has endured years of vandalism. Additionally, teams will work on developing an interpretive approach that highlights different phases in the bus’s life. These phases include its role in the Fairbanks City Transit System during the 1950s, serving as a residence for a Yutan Construction Company mining road crew member in the early 1960s, providing shelter for hunters and back-country hikers during the 1970s and ’80s, and gaining fame as the final refuge of Christopher McCandless in 1992, a story made famous by Jon Krakauer’s 1996 book, “Into the Wild.”

The bus will be displayed in an outdoor area near the museum on the UAF campus, allowing visitors to safely explore its history for the first time in three decades.

Virtual bus: https://www.uaf.edu/museum/exhibits/virtual-exhibits/bus142/ Bus Supporter website: http://www.friendsofbus142.com/

Information about the 142 Fairbanks City bus original location.

Please note that we cannot be held responsible for your actions – if you decided to visit the bus, seek the appropriate advice from experts and speak to local authorities in Fairbanks.

Erik Halfacre has posted many valuable tips on the forum about the bus. He is an Alaskan himself and I feel his knowledge of the bus, its location and surroundings are very valuable. And so, here is some great information and useful tips from Erik… (there is also a great Youtube video he made at the end of the article.)

Hiking The Stampede Trail – Erik Halfacre 19th August 2010

The Stampede Trail to Bus 142 is becoming a more popular hiking destination these days. Virtually unheard of, to anyone outside the state of Alaska before Krakauer’s article in Outside Magazine, the trail has seen a vast increase in traffic since the release of Sean Penn’s film in 2007.

The story of Christopher McCandless , restless and footloose, stirs within many of us a hunger for adventure that is hard to quiet. I can’t begin to recall how many times I’ve heard, “Oh Man! I read that book! I really want to get out to that bus someday!” or “That movie was really great. I really want to see the bus.” The desire to see the bus, is often equated (in the minds of many Alaskans) to some kind of worship of Chris, or a celebration of naiveté. I feel this is an unfair characterization. For me, the desire to see the bus was rooted in my will to better understand his story.

Some things cannot be adequately described in words. The bus is one of those things. You will not truly understand the conditions of Chris‘ experience until you sit down in the folding chair where there once was a driver’s seat and just absorb the feeling of silence and isolation. The feeling is both refreshing, and lonely. Even with seven other people in my group, I couldn’t help but feel a little lonely in that place.

When I first began planning for my own trek, in 2009, I tried to find information online. I think, partially due to local sentiment about the story, and partially due to the fact that at that time there really weren’t a heck of a lot of people headed out that way, It was darn near impossible to find any good information about the hike. All I found back then, was the Denali Chamber of Commerce page telling me how incredibly dangerous it is, and basically that they didn’t want to give out advice because they’d rather you didn’t go. That wasn’t enough to deter me though. I dug around until I found some coordinates for the bus and looked over the satellite imagery. I researched how to properly execute a crossing of a swift flowing river, and then practiced on some rivers of similar depth and speed nearer to my hometown of Palmer, Alaska.

After my hike I did more research on the subject, interviewed and emailed many others who had made the trek themselves, and turned my research into a ten minute video about doing the hike. Response to the video was encouraging, and it became obvious that there was a demand for this kind of information, so I turned the video into a whole website.

So, enough about Me, lets get to the good stuff; What you need to know to hike the Stampede Trail to Bus 142.

Overview The Stampede Trail is long, wet, and buggy. On the upside, the terrain is mostly level. There aren’t really any long uphill sections worth noting. You’ll face two river crossings, a night or two in bear country, and swarms of mosquitoes that will try to pick you up and carry you away. Frequently you’ll find yourself wondering ‘is this the Stampede Trail, or Stampede River,‘ as you wade through flooded muddy trail up your knees.

How Do I Know if The Stampede Trail is Too Hard For Me? The Stampede Trail is not for everyone. This is not a hike for beginners. No two ways about it. Despite how badly you may want to see the bus, if you are not a reasonably proficient hiker (someone with experience hiking 15+ miles a day for multiple days with a pack) then you are probably getting yourself in over your head. By putting yourself in that situation, you are pretty much ensuring that you will exert yourself beyond your safe limits. This leads to exhaustion. Exhaustion leads to lack of judgment. Lack of Judgement can lead to serious injury or death.

The good news is: if you are not much of a hiker right now… it doesn’t take much to build that kind of endurance up. Ramp up. Each weekend go on a hike that’s five miles longer than the last weekend’s hike. If you start with a five mile hike today, and follow that plan, you’ll be up to forty miles within two months assuming you already have some reasonable level of fitness. Hike with a pack. Even on day hikes, throw some soup cans in a bag and hit the trail. The more fit you are, the more you are likely to have the endurance to get yourself out of sticky situations.

How Far Is It? It’s about twenty miles there and twenty miles back (forty miles roundtrip.)

How Long Will it Take Me? For people of reasonable fitness, I recommend dedicating three days for the hike. The best plan seems to be as follows

Day 1: Be to the trailhead (eight-mile lake on the Stampede Road) about noon. Hike into the Teklanika River, about ten miles, and set camp.

Day 2: Wake up good and early, about 5am, and cross the Teklanika. (We’ll talk more about this later.) Hike out to the bus and back, about twenty miles, in one day. Camp at the Teklanika again, this time on the side closest the bus.

Day 3: Wake up early again and cross the Teklanika. Hike out to your car. Drive to Lynx Pizza in Denali and get some food that doesn’t require you to add boiling water. They also have a beer.

This schedule can be adjusted. If you want to spend a little more time out there or spend a night at the bus site, just turn Day 2 into two ten-mile days instead of one twenty-mile day. Unless you are a truly stellar backpacker though, I wouldn’t recommend trying to make the trip any shorter than three days. For one, it makes it much more difficult to time your river crossings. When I was out there though, we did see a pair of Germans who were running the whole trail in one day. Those guys were machines though.

What Should I Bring? Not surprisingly, the kit you should bring is not unlike the one you should pack for most other Alaskan backcountry trips. Pack: Having a comfortable pack is crucial for a hike of this length. I’m partial to Gregory brand packs, but many other brands make great packs. Just don’t try to save money by buying the thirty-dollar Wal-Mart special for this trip. Your shoulders will regret it.

Tent: For the summer, a good sturdy three-season tent is plenty. Make sure your rain fly is functional. The weather can turn cruddy in the blink of an eye up there. Bring some extra para-cord for making anchors (by tying it around sticks and wedging them between river rocks) as otherwise it may be difficult to stake out along the river.

Sleeping Bag: A twenty-degree bag should be adequate for the summer months. Consider upgrading to a zero-degree bag if you are going in the early season (May) or late season (September.) Temps frequently drop into the forties at night, even during July. Make every effort to keep your bag completely dry (especially if you use a down bag.) Put your sleeping bag in a dry sack inside your pack.

Water: There’s water everywhere you turn around on this trail. You’re constantly crossing streams. You don’t need to bring much with you. A single one-liter bottle will be enough if you filter/purify water as you go. This dramatically reduces the weight of your pack.

Food: Packing dehydrated food (Mountain House, Backpacker’s Pantry, etc) will keep the weight of your pack down. Another just add water meal, that’s much cheaper, are the Knorr (formerly Lipton Brand) pasta side meals. They are available at Fred Meyer Grocers (in Anchorage, Palmer, Wasilla, and Fairbanks.) So no matter where you fly into, you’ll be able to find them. Bring plenty of snack-type stuff. It’s important to keep your energy up. Beef jerky, trail mix, raisins, craisins, powerbars, etc all make great food you can keep in a pocket.

Other Stuff (but by no means everything): flashlight – Alaska may be the land of the midnight sun but you’ll still want a light knife para-cord – for stringing a bear bag bear-proof container – an alternative to stringing a bear bag toilet paper small plastic trowel tons of socks a few feet of duct tape fire starter camp stove and cookware a map a compass a camera

What Should I Do About Bears on the Stampede Trail in Alaska? The absolute BEST thing you can do about bears (and just a good idea in general) is to travel in a group. Bears just don’t attack big groups of people. According to Stephen Herrero’s book, Bear Attacks: Their Causes and Avoidance, bears will rarely attack a group of three or more. A group of six or more has never been attacked.

Some evidence supports the use of bear bells. The human voice is generally accepted to be a much more effective bear deterrent though, so singing, or talking loudly is advisable.

Don’t cook in your camp. Don’t eat in your camp. Don’t bring your food (or trash) into camp. If you are having a campfire, burn what you can, bag what you can’t, and put it into your bear bag, or your bear-proof container.

String a bear bag ten to fifteen feet off the ground and at least six feet out from the trunk of the tree. Leaning trees work best.

As far as personal protection, I personally carry a gun. I realize many people have objections to firearms, don’t like the inconvenience of traveling with them, or just don’t own them. Only bring a gun if you are well-practiced with it. There’s nothing worse than an injured bear out there. Even if you get away, an injured bear is much more likely to attack someone else in the future.

Consider bear spray. The potent pepper spray is effective at deterring a bear attack, non-lethal, and you need not be as much of a marksman. You can’t fly with it, but it’s available here in Alaska, at lots of retailers.

How Should I Cross the Rivers near the Stampede Trail? You will encounter two rivers that you will need to cross on the Stampede Trail. The first is the Savage River. The second, and much more serious, is the Teklanika.

The Teklanika River is the river that stopped McCandless from returning to the highway. Its depth can vary greatly depending on factors such as rain, temperature (the hotter it is, the more the glaciers are melting, the deeper it will be,) and time of day. It can be anywhere from knee-deep to chest-deep, and the current is quite strong.

Less than a week before the writing of this article, a Swiss woman drowned while trying to cross the Teklanika. It’s deadly serious. If it looks really bad and you are nervous about the crossing, just turn around. There’s no sense losing your life over a hike. There’s nothing in that bus worth dying over. Don’t end up in the paper!

The best time of day to cross the river is very early in the morning. As mentioned previously, the river is glacial, and therefore the level drops during the course of the night due to the lower temperature.

Before crossing, take the insoles out of your boots, and take your socks off. Keep your boots on though. It will help increase your grip and stability on the rock. Taking your pants off is an option you should consider as well. Keeping your pants on will give you only a marginal amount of protection from the cold of the water, but it will increase the surface area that the river has to push against you. Taking your pants off reduces your drag. Undo the buckle on your pack (and sternum strap.) That way, if you fall in and need to free yourself of your pack you will be able to.

It is far better to cross the river in a group than it is to cross alone. In a group, line up with the larger members furthest upstream. Have everyone pick up a long pole and hold it, parallel to the river, across their chests. This way, if someone starts to stumble, the entire rest of the group supports them, and the largest members are upstream breaking the current. Walk slowly, and carefully place each foot.

If you must cross alone, use a long sturdy pole to help you balance. Place the pole upstream from yourself and lean against it. Face upstream, but move in a diagonal line downstream as you move across. Always maintain two points of contact at all times. Again, take your time and be careful.

The use of a rope may help in some instances. The rope she was using, was the big contributing factor in the Swiss woman’s death, however. In that instance, the rope had been incorrectly placed parallel across the river. Also, she had tied herself to the rope with another shorter length of rope. When she fell, the river pushed hard against her, stretched the rope, and she was pinned underwater, held in place by the rope, which was now in a V shape pointing downstream. She was unable to free herself.

To avoid this, if you use a rope, have it at a steep angle across the river. The stretchier the rope (for example, climbing rope) the steeper that angle needs to be. Having an angle will allow a person to use the rope to get back to shore if they fall, and will keep the rope from forming a V. It is also a poor, and potentially lethal, idea to tie yourself to the rope. Simply use it as a handrail.

If you are swept downstream, do not panic, keep your face up, and your feet pointed downstream. Work your way to the bank as quickly as possible.

It is also worth noting that the Teklanika braids out as you head further south along it’s bank from the trail (upstream). You may want to head in that direction in search of a safer place to cross.

Another method of crossing you could investigate, would be the use of a pack raft. There are places in Alaska that rent them and it could be a much safer alternative to fording. I have no personal experience with that method so I am not able to comment much further on it.

How Bad Are The Bugs? The bugs are terrible. The mosquitoes will swarm you. Bring plenty of bug repellent.

What About Footwear? How Can I Keep My Feet Dry? With the number of stream crossings on this trail, it would be nearly impossible to keep your feet dry the whole time. In my group of eight, no one was successful in that goal, though a few tried pretty hard.

The best thing to do is just accept the fact that your feet will be wet all day. Take care of your feet though. Each night make sure to dry your feet thoroughly. Bringing a pair of thick wool socks for each night is a great idea as well. Only put them on right before you get into your sleeping bag. This will keep your feet warm and dry for at least eight out of every twenty-four hours, and because it’s one of the main places your body loses heat while you sleep, it effectively increases the temperature rating of your sleeping bag as well.

I also suggest bringing along a pair of cheap, light, foam flip-flops. That way you can wear them around camp while your boots sit next to the fire drying.

Any Other Advice? Be super careful. Nobody wants to hear about anybody else getting hurt out there. Be Prepared, do your homework, use good judgment, and come home alive.

Trail Reports and Photos I’m always looking for current trail reports and photos, so feel free to get ahold of me when you get back. I’d love to chat.

Stampede Trail Flickr Group http://www.flickr.com/groups/stampedetrail/

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Everything Into The Wild Doesn't Tell You About The True Story

Adventure writer Jon Krakauer's book  "Into the Wild" is a journalistic yet personal examination of the life and death of Chris McCandless. After graduating college, McCandless donated his life savings, cut off contact with his family, and vanished, becoming a nomad and living under the assumed identity Alexander Supertramp. For two years he explored America, meeting other travelers and friends before venturing into the Alaskan wilderness and perishing at 24 years old.

Sean Penn read the book twice in 1996 and immediately knew he wanted to make it into a film. As reported by The Los Angeles Times , Penn spent the next decade convincing McCandless' family to sell him the rights to Chris' story. The 2007 film adaptation, "Into The Wild," is an elegiac celebration of McCandless' ( Emile Hirsch ) wanderlust and a glimpse of his tragic death, told from McCandless' perspective and through his sister Carine's (Jena Malone) narration. Penn's film was nominated for two Academy Awards and secured a "fresh" rating on Rotten Tomatoes . Krakauer told The Los Angeles Times , "When [Penn] showed me the rough cut, I wanted to kiss him, I was so happy."

Some, like writer-director Penn, mythologized McCandless, depicting him as an idealistic wanderer who eschewed capitalism and hustle culture while embracing an adventurous life lived to the fullest. Others believe McCandless was a selfish and arrogant rich kid who thought he could survive the wilderness of Alaska, only to find himself tragically unprepared. Keep reading to explore everything "Into The Wild" doesn't tell you about the true story.

The film skips McCandless' high school and college years

"Into the Wild" is a very long film, running two hours and 28 minutes, but it couldn't possibly include everything covered in Jon Krakauer's book. According to Outside , Chris McCandless was the captain of his high school cross-country track team, and enjoyed creating punishing workouts that took him and his teammates into unfamiliar territory to test their limits and endurance.

He couldn't bear the inequities he saw in the world. His mother Billie told Outside, "Chris didn't understand how people could possibly be allowed to go hungry ... He would rave about that kind of thing for hours." Chris also took action on these beliefs. As reported by Outside, he brought a homeless man to live in the family's camper once. As depicted in the film, McCandless graduated with honors from Emory University, where he contributed intense editorials on subjects he was passionate about to the school newspaper (per The A.V. Club ).

The PBS documentary "Return to the Wild" reveals that solo treks across the U.S. were nothing new for McCandless when he vanished in the summer of 1990. Five years earlier, after graduating high school, he bought his Datsun and drove cross-country. According to his father Walt, Chris was gone all summer, rarely checking in. Walt told The New York Times , "He was always an adventuresome, pretty self-contained individual ... it's important to realize that the trip he didn't come back from wasn't his first adventure."

His driver to the trailhead tried to dissuade him

At the beginning of the film version of "Into the Wild," we see Chris McCandless hitchhiking into Fairbanks, Alaska before he's dropped off at the Stampede trailhead. The driver gives McCandless a pair of rubber boots to keep his feet dry, telling McCandless to call him if he makes it out alive. Jim Gallien is the man who dropped McCandless off, and he played himself in the film.

Like many before him, Gallien tried to talk McCandless out of his foolhardy plan. Gallien told NPR , "I said the hunting wasn't easy where he was going ... When that didn't work, I tried to scare him ... But he wouldn't give an inch. He had an answer for everything I threw at him." Walt McCandless wouldn't have been surprised by this, telling  Outside , "If you attempted to talk him out of something, he wouldn't argue. He'd just nod politely and then do exactly what he wanted."

McCandless gave Gallien his watch at the trailhead, despite Gallien's protestations. As reported by NPR, McCandless told Gallien he would throw the watch away, saying, "I don't want to know what time it is. I don't want to know what day it is or where I am. None of that matters." Emile Hirsch told The East Bay Times  that he actually wore McCandless' watch in the film after Gallien lent him the timepiece.

McCandless has been accused of legal infractions

The Anchorage Daily News explored the legal infractions that McCandless was accused of, beginning with McCandless abandoning his car in Arizona, as depicted in "Into the Wild." This article claims the car had an expired registration, no insurance, and was left in a region of the park closed to cars.

The New Yorker reported in 1993 that McCandless got a ticket for hitchhiking after abandoning his car in Arizona and alleged that he broke into a cabin in the Sierra Nevada mountains to steal food. In the film, we see McCandless dismiss rules repeatedly — as when the park ranger says he needs a permit to kayak the Colorado River — so some of these accusations are plausible. According to  NPR , McCandless was scornful when Jim Gallien asked if he had a hunting permit before hiking the Stampede Trail, saying, "Hell, no. How I feed myself is none of the government's business. F*** their stupid rules."

According to  Jon Krakauer's book , McCandless was also arrested for hopping trains in Colton, California. The accusations didn't stop after McCandless disappeared in Alaska. The Anchorage Daily News, which called McCandless a poacher, suggested that McCandless broke into and vandalized cabins in the area while living on Bus 142. Gordon E. Samel, one of the hunters who found McCandless' body, suggested that the moose McCandless shot in Alaska was caribou ( via Reuters ). McCandless' journal hints that he killed it at the beginning of June, meaning it was killed out of season ( via Huntin' Fool ).

McCandless' parents visited Bus 142

The screen adaptation of  "Into The Wild" explores nothing that happened after Chris McCandless' death, other than sharing when his body was found by hunters. According to The A.V. Club , Jon Krakauer's bestselling book explores McCandless' life and death, as well as how his death affected the people he left behind. Krakauer interviewed McCandless' family, and the people he met during his travels, to piece together what happened to McCandless during the two years preceding his death. During his research, the writer developed a relationship with the McCandless family.

According to Treehugger , after McCandless' death, Krakauer and McCandless' parents visited Bus 142 via helicopter. Walt and Billie installed a memorial plaque on Bus 142, leaving an emergency kit, and a note asking visitors to please "call your parents as soon as possible." During the 2014 PBS documentary  "Return to the Wild," the film crew followed McCandless' sister Carine and two of their half-sisters as they visited Bus 142, 22 years after his death. This was Carine's third visit to the bus, but it was the first time their half-sisters saw where their brother died.

After learning of Chris' death, Ronald Franz became depressed

According to NPR , the film's Ron Franz (Hal Holbrook) was based on a real person. Holbrook was nominated for an Oscar for his performance in "Into the Wild."  Tripline claims Franz's real name was Russell Fritz. As reported by Treehugger , McCandless had a huge effect on Franz/Fritz, the elderly man who offers to adopt McCandless in the film before he departs southern California for his ill-fated trip to Alaska.

We only briefly meet Franz in the film, but Krakauer's book further explored the impact that meeting McCandless had on Franz's life. The New York Times reports that after parting ways, McCandless wrote Franz, saying, "If you want to get more out of life, Ron, you must lose your inclination for monotonous security and adopt a helter-skelter style of life that will at first appear to you to be crazy." After receiving a letter from McCandless, Franz put his belongings into storage and set out into the desert, inspired to shake things up.

In reality, Franz seemed to sit in the desert waiting for McCandless to return for eight months. In Chapter 6 of Krakauer's book , we learn that while returning from the desert, Franz picked up a couple of hitchhikers who told him of McCandless' death in Alaska. After learning of the young man's death, a distraught Franz renounced his faith in God, claiming to be an atheist, and drank a bottle of whiskey after decades of sobriety.

The real Chris McCandless was not the film's idealistic free spirit

As reported by The A.V. Club , Jon Krakauer's book acknowledged McCandless' inflexible and argumentative nature, calling him a "highly polarizing subject," while also depicting him as charismatic and extroverted. Krakauer told NPR , "He was an intense kid. He didn't see the world in gray at all, everything was black and white, right or wrong, and he was a young man who wanted to test himself."

Sean Penn 's "Into the Wild" hinted at McCandless' stubborn side by showing McCandless arguing with his parents about not wanting them to buy him a new car for graduation, dismissing the need for a permit to kayak the Colorado River, and refusing much of the charity and help that flowed his way. While the film doesn't ignore his stubbornness, it characterizes McCandless as a more laid-back, idealistic free spirit who rejects his parent's affluent lifestyle and the rat race.

Walt McCandless told Outside , "He was good at almost everything he ever tried, which made him supremely overconfident." Tragically, it was McCandless' inability to accept help and heed good advice that led him down the lonely and tragic path to his death on Bus 142.

Chris McCandless could have crossed the river downstream

Late in "Into the Wild," McCandless packs up his stuff and cleans up under a makeshift shower before hiking toward society after surviving off the land for over two months. When McCandless reaches the river, which was frozen when he arrived, he sees the hat Jan (Catherine Keener) knitted for him, skewered on a branch where he left it to mark his route. Unfortunately, McCandless returns to the bus after failing to cross the Teklanika River, which is swollen from snow melt.

Brent Keith, an Alaskan guide, told Men's Journal , "I just don't get why he didn't stay down by the Teklanika until the water got low enough to cross. Or walk upstream to where it braids out in shallow channels. Or start a signal fire on a gravel bar." The New Yorker shared that less than a mile downriver from where he crossed in April, there was a hand-operated tram he could have used to cross the river when he wanted to leave in July.

According to  Forbes , a recent study by hydrologists at Oregon State University suggested that McCandless was trapped because of a "freak hydrological event" exacerbated by run-off from the Cantwell Glacier. David Hill, who co-authored the study, told Forbes, "Streamflow in summer 1992 was more variable than usual because of the quick snowmelt followed by periods of heavy rain," adding if he had tried to cross earlier or later in July the results might have been different.

Carine McCandless alleges that she and Chris experienced domestic abuse

Jon Krakauer's book refers obliquely to the McCandless family's toxic dynamic, characterizing their father Walt as "overbearing" and their home as unhappy (per NPR ). Carine confided in Krakauer about the abuse while he was researching "Into The Wild," but she told Outside , "I made him promise — before I let him read Chris's letters, before I told him these things — that he wouldn't expose any of it in the book."

By the time Sean Penn was making his film adaptation, Carine was older and more open about the abuse she alleges she and Chris experienced and witnessed growing up. The film depicts domestic abuse in a couple of flashbacks. In 2014, Carine wrote her memoir, "The Wild Truth," revealing more about the alleged abuse. Per Outside , Walt and Billie McCandless have denied the accusations, describing her memoir as fiction.

In the PBS documentary "Return to the Wild," Carine shares letters Chris had sent her, hinting at his plans to disappear and cut off all contact with their parents. Carine told Outside that she didn't write the book to defend her brother or villainize her parents, but because she wanted people to finally know the entire story and understand what Chris was running from and how much pain he was in when he left. Carine told Newsweek , "I hold them accountable for his disappearance. But I certainly don't blame them for his death."

If you or someone you know may be the victim of child abuse, please contact the Childhelp National Child Abuse Hotline at 1-800-4-A-Child (1-800-422-4453) or contact their live chat services .

The film glosses over Walt McCandless' other family

Sean Penn's "Into the Wild" explains how Chris McCandless was devastated to learn that he and his sister Carine were born out of wedlock, while their father was still married to his first wife. The film makes it seem like Walt's first marriage was a long-held family secret and Chris and Carine didn't have a relationship with their half-siblings. This was not the case. In a segment for ABC News , Carine and two of her half-sisters verified that they grew up together, going on family vacations and witnessing domestic violence together.

According to the PBS documentary "Return to the Wild," when Chris was five years old, Walt and his first wife Marcia separated and she was granted a restraining order because of alleged domestic violence. They divorced, and she moved their children from California, where the kids were born, to Colorado. During summer vacations, they would travel from Colorado to visit their father and half-siblings in Annandale, Virginia, where Walt had moved for a job with NASA.

If you or someone you know is dealing with domestic abuse, you can call the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1−800−799−7233. You can also find more information, resources, and support at their website .

The cause of McCandless' death has been contested

Per The New Yorker, coroners declared starvation the cause of Chris McCandless' death. The film postulates, much like Jon Krakauer did in his early investigation for Outside , that McCandless had mistaken wild potato for wild sweet pea, which is poisonous. In his book, Jon Krakauer suggested a different conclusion, theorizing that the seeds contained a detrimental alkaloid. Krakauer drew these conclusions from McCandless' journal and the undeveloped photographs he left behind.

Thomas Clausen, the chair of chemistry and biochemistry at UAF, disproved Krakauer's theory, telling Men's Journal , "I tore that plant apart. There were no toxins. No alkaloids. I'd eat it myself." In a 2013 article for The New Yorker , Krakauer doubled down on his hypothesis, referencing a paper using evidence gathered from World War II concentration camps to say that the seed pods of wild potatoes weakened McCandless, making it impossible for him to hunt, forage or hike to the highway.

Per NPR , Krakauer has revisited his theory repeatedly in the years after publishing "Into the Wild," leading to multiple book revisions and lab tests. In 2015, Krakauer believed he had found the answer: an amino acid called L-canavanine. Krakauer co-authored and published a scientific paper with Jonathan Southard, a biochemist at Indiana University of Pennsylvania. Krakauer told NPR, "It screws up your ability to metabolize, so you essentially starve," explaining that this amino acid is in the seed pods, which is why natives only eat the roots.

Into the Wild inspired people to travel to the magic bus

Both the book and the film adaptation of "Into the Wild" have inspired scores of people to hike the Stampede Trail to see Bus 142, where Chris McCandless died in 1992. In the 30 years since his death, the flow of travelers, often referred to as pilgrims, hasn't been staunched. In 2019, Treehugger reported more than 100 people visit Bus 142 annually.

Claire Ackerman, a 29-year-old hiker visiting from Switzerland, died attempting to cross the Teklanika River in 2010. According to the Anchorage Daily News , her boyfriend, a Frenchman named Etienne Gros, claimed Bus 142 was not their destination. But in 2013 Gros admitted to Outside  that after being told the Teklanika River was passable by other hikers in Denali National Park, the pair changed their plans. Gros built a memorial along the river where Ackerman died.

Also in 2013, a ranger told Outside that 75% of the rescues in the area occurred on the trail to the bus, saying, "Obviously, there's something that draws these people out here," while adding that the allure escaped them. Carine McCandless and Ackerman's family petitioned for a footbridge over the river, but their request was ignored. The Los Angeles Times reported that Veranika Nikanava and her husband were hiking to Bus 142 when she drowned in Teklanika River in 2019. According to  BBC News , numerous other rescue missions and the two deaths finally prompted talk of removing the bus.

Bus 142 was moved from the original location

According to Greenbelly , the Fairbanks City Transit bus in which McCandless spent his final days was brought out to the spot near the Teklanika River by the Yutan Construction Company, which had purchased the decommissioned bus. The company outfitted the bus as a temporary shelter for workers who were building an access road to nearby mines. When the work was done in 1961, the bus was left behind and continued to be used by hunters and hikers traveling through the area.

In June 2020, in response to two drowning deaths and many rescues, the Alaska Army National Guard removed Bus 142 from the location where McCandless perished. As reported by The New York Times , a CH-47 Chinook helicopter airlifted the bus to a nearby location where it was loaded on a trailer and transported to an undisclosed location. Dan Saddler, a spokesman for the Alaska Department of Natural Resources, told the Times, "Mostly, we're glad that we've taken action that will avoid future deaths and injuries and search-and-rescue costs."

Carine McCandless told the Times, "Though I am saddened by the news, the decision made by Alaska D.N.R. was with good intentions toward public safety." In 2021, The Anchorage Daily News reported that at some point in the future, Bus 142 would be displayed at The University of Alaska at Fairbanks' Museum of the North , after the Engineering Learning and Innovation Facility finished preparing the bus for exhibition.

Chris MaCandless' family published a book of his photos

In the PBS documentary "Return to the Wild," Chris McCandless' parents, Walt and Billie, talked about the undeveloped film that was recovered with their son's body and returned to them after his death. Walt said, "Billie couldn't look at them. The pictures. She just couldn't do it. It has hard for me, but I did." Walt shared how he catalogued the images and scanned over 600 pictures depicting Chris' travels during the two years after he graduated college and dropped out of society.

Some of these photos are self-portraits Chris took using a timer, including the portrait we see at the end of "Into the Wild." In 2011, Walt and Billie published a book,  "Back to the Wild,"  featuring Chris' photography accompanied by captions written by Walt. According to Outside , Chris' sister Carine wasn't pleased that her parents published the book, thinking it obscured her brother's tragic truth . Regardless of their motivations, the collection of photos documents Chris' experiences, as did Krakauer's book and Sean Penn's film. Despite Chris' tragic end, "Into the Wild" is often hailed as one of the best movies about people surviving in the wilderness .

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In Alaska's wilds, the mystic hiker's bus draws pilgrims to danger and death

T he old bus in which Chris McCandless died in 1992 in the interior of Alaska – made famous in Jon Krakauer's book Into the Wild and later in the Sean Penn film of the same name – long ago lost its windows to souvenir hunters.

A plaque inside the bus, installed by his family, commemorates his life. A recent visitor describes the site as a pigsty.

The same reasons that cost McCandless his life, trapped without enough food on the wrong side of a Teklanika river in full spate from summer meltwater, makes it a dangerous place to approach.

Last year a dozen "pilgrims", as residents of the nearby town of Healy disparagingly label the hundreds who have been drawn to the bus each year since Penn's film was first screened in 2007, needed to be rescued by park authorities , local people and state troopers. So far one visitor to Bus 142 has died, a 29-year-old Swiss woman, Claire Ackerman, who drowned in the river. Others have had close escapes.

All of which has fuelled a simmering debate – how best to deal with the morbid magnetic pull exerted by the fascination with McCandless.

The McCandless story is well known: how the 24-year-old hiker, born in California, raised in Virginia, abandoned his safe suburban upbringing, donating $24,000 in savings to charity and styling himself Alexander Supertramp, and set off on a two-year hitchhiking journey that ended with his death in the bus.

Interest is unlikely to wane any time soon. A book by his sister, Carine, is due to be published this autumn, while a mockup of the Fairbanks City Transit bus, built for Penn's film, is a tourist attraction in its own right in Healy, bought by a local brewery. On one side are those who believe the bus should be removed , on the other a costly proposal to build a footbridge across the river at a place where it narrows.

If evidence were needed of both the appeal of the story and the place where McCandless died in his sleeping bag, to be found later by moose hunters, there is ample evidence online. There are blogs dedicated to his story and pictures posted of "pilgrims" seated in the same pose in which McCandless photographed himself outside the bus.

"There's a pretty steady trickle all summer," says Jon Nierenberg, who owns the EarthSong lodge off the Stampede Road, which most visitors use to get to the bus.

"There are different types, but for the most passionate – the ones we locals call pilgrims – it is a quasi-religious thing. They idealise McCandless. Some of the stuff they write in the journals [at the bus] is hair-raising."

A very few, Nierenberg suspects, have gone a step further by camping next to the bus and depriving themselves of food.

"We had one tall skinny guy who had been out there for a week or two who staggered, swaying on his feet, into our coffee shop. We helped him out, then sent him on his way."

Diana Saverin secured a writing grant to study the phenomenon of the pilgrims which she described in a long article for Outside magazine in December after becoming fascinated by McCandless's story during her first visit to the area in 2011. In The Chris McCandless Obsession Problem she recalls : "We soon felt the story's pull. I was 20, Jonathan [her travelling companion] was 22, and McCandless's uninhibited adventures spoke to both of us."

An encounter with the French boyfriend of Ackerman, who had returned a year after her drowning, marked the beginning of her interest in those who were drawn to the bus. The issue was dramatically underlined when, as she walked along the trail herself, she encountered three "pilgrims" who had been trapped by the river for a day and a half and who had sent for help.

Krakauer's book, Saverin believes, has accrued a growing cultural significance as one of those cult books on to which readers project their own preoccupations. In that sense it has garnered a status like The Catcher in the Rye or On The Road .

Its closest equivalent, however, is Henry David Thoreau' s Walden – the transcendentalist and natural philosopher's chronicle of his own experiment in self-sufficiency between 1845 and 1847 in a one-room cabin in Massachusetts, a replica of which is now also a popular tourist site. The comparison is unsurprising, since Thoreau, as Krakauer notes in Into the Wild , was a writer who fascinated McCandless, along with Leo Tolstoy and Jack London.

But what of the "pilgrims" that Saverin met and their motivation? "The people I encountered would always talk about freedom" she said. "I would ask, what does that mean? I had a sense that it represented a catch-all. It represented an idea of what people might want to do or be. I met one man, a consultant, who had just had a baby and who wanted to change his life to be a carpenter – but couldn't, so took a week to visit the bus. People see McCandless as someone who just went and 'did it'."

She finds it ironic that what the "pilgrims" hanker after – McCandless's perceived idealised rejection of the modern world to forge his own path – has become a well-worn trail. And unlike Thoreau, Saverin also points out, McCandless did not construct his own philosophy – the "insights" that readers find being channelled by Krakauer.

One of the fiercest critics of the McCandless myth – and all that it represents – is Craig Medred, who writes for the online Alaska Dispatch, most recently in September in an article headlined The beatification of Chris McCandless .

"Thanks to the magic of words," writes Medred, "the poacher Chris McCandless was transformed in his afterlife into some sort of poor, admirable romantic soul lost in the wilds of Alaska , and now appears on the verge of becoming some sort of beloved vampire.

"Given the way things are going, the dead McCandless is sure to live on longer than the live McCandless, who starved to death in Interior Alaska because he wasn't quite successful enough as a poacher."

And Medred's conclusion takes a swipe at his disciples. "More than 20 years later, it is richly ironic to think of some self-involved urban Americans, people more detached from nature than any society of humans in history, worshipping the noble, suicidal narcissist, the bum, thief and poacher Chris McCandless."

Kris Fister, a spokeswoman for the Denali National Park nearby, whose rangers have been called in to help "pilgrims' who become trapped on the wrong side of the river, frames the same question regarding those who get into trouble in more moderate terms.

"The water gets high in the river – the same issue that Chris McCandless had to deal with. People don't have enough food. The question I would ask is: you read the book or saw the film. What is your disconnect? There are places you can cross if you go downstream. But often these are people who do not feel comfortable navigating. Often people don't have the experience or the equipment. The summer before last there was one gentleman we had to help on two occasions."

For some, at least, the pilgrimage to the 142 bus, far from providing an epiphany, has been the source of disillusionment. Among these is Chris Ingram, who wrote an essay on his own experience for the Christopher McCandless website. Arriving a few days after Ackerman's drowning, he had planned, he recounts, to hike the trail to the bus "to have my own survival experience in Wild Alaska and to pay my respects to a person I adored and admired".

Reaching the raging river where rangers were still finishing their investigation into Ackerman's death, Ingram decided to turn back, his view of Bus 142 as the "mecca of McCandless followers" radically transformed.

"Perhaps," he wrote of his own experience, "we are over-enchanted by the zeal of his story, over-sympathetic, feeling a sense that we can relate, or perhaps a Hollywood movie has mesmerised, idealised and over-romanticised our thoughts and beliefs beyond our own lives that we fantasise away from them.

"I had an ample amount of time along the trail to contemplate Chris's story, as well as my own life. The wilderness is a poor place to put your worries, your concerns, your dreams, your hopes, thoughts, wishes and happinesses. The wild simply is just that, wild. Unchanging, unforgiving, it knows nor cares not for your own life. It exists on its own, unaffected by the dreams or cares of man. It kills the unprepared and unaware."

As for the fate of the bus itself, Fister's own view is that, with the vehicle rotting, nature will eventually reclaim it.

• The Observer

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Into the Wild: how an abandoned bus became a deadly pilgrimage site

In the remote Alaskan wilderness there sits a lonely bus. On the side are the words ‘Fairbanks City Transit System’, barely visible through the rust.

Surrounded by snow and pine, it is the place where young hiker Chris McCandless died in 1992.

Sean Penn ‘s Into the Wild, the movie that depicted McCandless’ expedition into the American wilderness, turns 10 next month.

In the years following McCandless’ ill-fated journey, the No.142 bus has become a pilgrimage site for other travellers and wanderers.

Some of whom have suffered the same fate as the man whose footsteps they follow.

A romanticised figure

The story of McCandless has passed into modern infamy.

The subject of Jon Krakauer’s acclaimed 1996 book, the 24 year-old has become a romanticised figure of adventure and anti-establishment in the years following his death.

McCandless left society behind soon after his university graduation in the early ’90s. Donating his life-savings to charity, and leaving behind a troubled youth, the youngster disappeared into the American wilds.

Going by the name ‘Alexander Supertramp’, he spent the next two years hitchhiking his way around the US – and ultimately into the Alaskan wilderness.

It was here, in the icy grip of the North, that the Virginia native would pass away. Huddled inside the abandoned bus.

McCandless’ frozen body was found by moose hunters just a week or so after he died.

Speculation on the cause remains rife, with the finger most commonly pointed at a mixture of malnutrition and potential seed poisoning.

A dangerous pilgrimage

‘The Magic Bus’ sits 30 miles along the Stampede Trail. An old inner-city vehicle still stranded in the middle of nowhere.

Ironically, the popularisation of McCandless’s tragic story, due in part to the film’s success, has led to an increase in hikers following his route to the abandoned bus.

Every summer, local news reports are awash with stories of unprepared hikers that have had to be rescued by park authorities.

A post shared by John Paul Hunter (@johnpaulhunter17) on Jun 17, 2016 at 1:29pm PDT

In 2016, two hikers were rescued by a 20-man search party, and a helicopter, after becoming lost along the trail. In 2013, another 12 needed rescuing. Seventy-five per cent of the rescues  in the area happen on the Stampede Trail.

Others are not so lucky.

“Some of the stuff they write in the journals is hair-raising.”

Twenty-nine year old Swiss tourist Claire Ackerman drowned whilst crossing the river that blocks the route to McCandless’s resting site.

Those who make the trek to the hallowed grounds of the 142 bus often stay days, sometimes weeks. 

“The most passionate – the ones we locals call pilgrims – it is a quasi-religious thing. They idealise McCandless. Some of the stuff they write in the journals [at the bus] is hair-raising,” explained local lodge owner Jon Nierenberg .

Misguided adventure

The Stampede Trail skirts the rim of Denali National Park, in the cold climes of the Alaskan wilderness.

It is not an easy trek, even for the most experienced of hikers. Rough terrain, remoteness and the fast-flow of the aptly named Savage River make it dangerous territory.

The park is home to North America’s largest mountain, the imposing 20,310ft Denali. It is also home to some of the continent’s largest and most dangerous animals, including grizzly bears and moose.

The ‘Wild’ that McCandless sought out in the far reaches of Alaska is not a place to go unprepared.

“It’s some kind of internal thing within them that makes them go out to that bus,” one state trooper said .

“I don’t know what it is. What would possess a person to follow in the tracks of someone who died because he was unprepared?”

The lure of the wilderness is well-documented. People have long sought to romanticise the call of far-flung destinations and remote exploration.

But while the story of Into the Wild has turned McCandless into a modern folk hero, we only know of the tale’s tragic hero because of his fate.

Would-be travellers may be inspired by his adoration for the wilderness. But to follow in his footsteps as equally unprepared would simply be repeating his folly.

More from i : A modern day Keroouac: the inspiring but tragic story of Gabriel Buchmann How spontaneity was the secret to Blade Runner’s spellbinding score Full Metal Jacket at 30: Matthew Modine on the film’s ‘toxic’ shoot How Requiem for a Dream captured a tragic descent into madness

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The ‘Into the Wild’ Bus Was a Pilgrimage Site in the Wilderness. Can It Hold Up in a Museum?

The rusty coach where Chris McCandless spent his final days captured the imagination of people all over the world and inspired hundreds of seekers to make dangerous treks to reach it. Now a dedicated team of curators in Alaska have given it new life as a fascinating exhibit—one that tells the story not just of McCandless, but of modern Alaska.

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On June 18, 2020, Carine McCandless got a call from Alaska’s Department of Natural Resources. Corri Feige, the commissioner at the time, wanted to give her a heads-up: the abandoned bus where Carine’s brother, Chris, had briefly lived and then died was at that moment dangling in midair below a Chinook helicopter, on its way to a flatbed trailer and then to storage in a government facility. The bus made famous by Into the Wild was finally being hauled out .

Carine didn’t have a clue that this might be coming, but she wasn’t entirely surprised. The bus, which sat roughly 20 miles down a rough 4×4 trail from the nearest highway, had been a source of concern to Alaskan authorities for years. Too many visitors, inspired by her brother’s story, had gotten into trouble while attempting to visit the site; too many formal and informal rescues had been necessary. In the previous decade, in separate incidents, two young women died on their treks . Both drowned while attempting to cross the cold, fast-moving Teklanika—the same river that had barred Chris, who was 24 when he died, from retreating to the highway as his food supply ran out.

In the eerily quiet early months of the COVID-19 pandemic, it seemed that someone in the local government had decided that now was the time to remove the temptation of the bus for good.

Carine understood why she hadn’t been given more warning. “The commissioner didn’t know me,” she says. “She didn’t know if I was going to contact a bunch of people and tell them to go surround the bus and sing ‘Kumbaya.’ ” Carine wouldn’t have done that, but she didn’t blame the state for holding its cards close.

The commissioner let her know that the department intended to wait a few days to announce the removal so the family could digest it privately. But even in the relative emptiness of rural Alaska news travels fast, and a famous bus in flight is hard to miss. As the two women talked, Carine’s phone began to ping. And ping. Text messages and social media notifications poured in—an experience shared by other people with a connection to the story. (A short while later, Eddie Vedder, the Pearl Jam front man who created the haunting soundtrack for the 2007 movie version of Into the Wild, told Carine: “My phone hasn’t blown up this fast since the Cubbies won the World Series!”) Even before Carine checked any of those messages, she had a feeling that the news was out.

Sure enough, a resident of the Healy area, Melanie Hall, had gone for a walk on Stampede Road—the paved portion of the historic overland trail that leads to where the bus sat for 60 years—when she spotted a helicopter with an enormous load. That looks like a bus, she thought as it flew closer, and moments later she knew: it was the bus. By the time Hall made it to a nearby gravel pit where the Chinook set the large vehicle down, another neighbor had arrived, and so had the borough mayor. As the bus was loaded onto a long trailer, Hall snapped photos she later posted on Facebook. A friend reposted them, and from there the pictures were shared and shared. The images went viral, and the state government began fielding media inquiries about the removal.

The Department of Natural Resources didn’t have much to say at first, except that the bus was being moved to an undisclosed location, its long-term fate also under wraps. Feige, the commissioner who’d contacted Carine, issued a statement. “We encourage people to enjoy Alaska’s wild areas safely, and we understand the hold this bus has had on the popular imagination,” it said. “However, this is an abandoned and deteriorating vehicle that was requiring dangerous and costly rescue efforts, but more importantly, was costing some visitors their lives. I’m glad we found a safe, respectful and economical solution to this situation.”

That night as I packed for a canoe trip, I scrambled to put together a news item for Outside Online. “There’s something strange and bittersweet about knowing the story is over now,” I wrote.

But I was wrong. A new chapter in the long, layered story of Bus 142 had just begun.

The origins of the bus are murky. It was built by International Harvester, a now defunct American company that thrived in the first half of the 20th century, challenging the likes of Ford and John Deere for market dominance. Primarily a tractor maker, the firm got into military procurement during the Second World War, and alongside a slate of armored personnel carriers, cargo trucks, and other military vehicles, it began turning out passenger buses.

Vehicle identification numbers weren’t introduced until the mid-1950s, and if there ever was a serial number somewhere on this particular vehicle, it has long since been lost to rust. But we know that its tires, mounted on split rims, were military-issue, dating from 1947. We also know that its original paint was military gray-green. It most likely entered Alaskan territory, in the aftermath of the war, via the Alaska Highway. It might have served as transportation on a base for a period of time. At some point it acquired a new coat of paint, the bright yellow-orange of a school bus. Sometime after that it was repainted yet again, in the white and green familiar to those of us who have followed the saga, and put to work as a city bus in fast-growing Fairbanks.

Alaska’s ascension to statehood in 1959 brought an influx of money to build and improve its roads. Around that time, the bus was damaged and retired from public service, and from there its story is easier to plot. The engine was pulled, and a massive tow hitch was welded to the nose. Sometime between 1959 and 1960, Jess Mariner, a member of a road construction crew, bought the remaining shell, along with another old bus, to use as housing for his wife and children while he worked on a project funded by the new government money: upgrading the Stampede Trail, a rough overland route near Denali, to facilitate access to the antimony mine at its terminus. Hauled behind heavy equipment, the bus offered warm shelter for the Mariners as the crew worked its way deep into the Alaskan bush. But when a front wheel snapped off its axle, most likely in early 1961, the family moved on and the bus was abandoned.

Soon it had a new function. The Stampede Trail lies within a long, horizontal rectangle of state land that juts into the northeastern corner of Denali National Park. With protected acreage on three sides, it’s a popular corridor for moose hunters. The Mariners’ erstwhile mobile home became an informal public-use cabin, a shelter for people as they moved through the area each fall. Locals added mattresses to the bare-metal bed frames, and at some point the Mariners’ vertical, barrel-style woodstove was replaced by a horizontal one. Nearly three decades passed, and then everything changed.

In the waning days of 1992, the January 1993 issue of Outside began arriving in mailboxes and on newsstands across America and around the world. It included a long feature story by Jon Krakauer, “Death of an Innocent,” which introduced readers to a young, adventurous drifter from the northern Virginia suburbs, Christopher J. McCandless, who had disappeared from his home and traveled across the continent under the alias Alexander Supertramp. After many months on the road, he made it to Alaska during the still-frozen spring of 1992 and hitchhiked to the outskirts of Denali. From there he walked into the bush, intending to live off the land, and made a home for himself in an abandoned bus. He died there in mid-August, and his body was found by moose hunters in early September.

The story created a sensation. Krakauer wrote later that it “generated more mail than any other article” in Outside’ s history. By 1996, he had fleshed out McCandless’s life and death in a book—the famous bestseller Into the Wild. Eleven years after that it was revisited again, as a beautiful feature film.

The pilgrimages began not long after McCandless’s story became public, and they increased dramatically when the movie came out. Visitor numbers went from dozens to hundreds; the arrival of social media likely helped drive hikers to the bus as well. Readers and viewers had always been divided about the story—many admired McCandless or recognized their own adventurous yearnings in him; others criticized, sometimes very harshly, what they considered his inexperience and lack of humility about the demands of Alaska’s backcountry. Add in summer after summer of expensive rescues and the two deaths—the first in 2010, the second in 2019—and by the time the bus was flown out in June 2020, it was easily the most polarizing vehicle in Alaskan history.

Pat Druckenmiller found out about the bus’s removal on the same day Carine McCandless got her phone call. “It was on the local news immediately,” says Druckenmiller, director of the University of Alaska Museum of the North (UAMN). The museum, a distinctive building at the heart of the Fairbanks campus, sits on a hilltop with a view of Denali and the wide curtain of the Alaska Range. “I know I was not the only person in this building who, when we saw pictures that day in the media or heard about it on the radio, had the same thought,” he says. “Gosh, what are they going to do with the bus?”

Within a day or two Druckenmiller, along with several colleagues who included senior collections manager Angela Linn, had decided to put the Museum of the North forward as a permanent home for the vehicle. Though it’s located on a university campus, the UAMN is a broadly focused museum; its mandate is to draw from art, archaeology, natural science, and other areas to tell stories about the interior of Alaska and the wider circumpolar world. The curators were among several parties interested in the bus; another Fairbanks-based institution, the Fountainhead Antique Auto Museum, also put its name in, and some private parties outside the state did, too.

At the UAMN, interest went well beyond the McCandless story. “It’s fascinating on its own,” says Druckenmiller. “Because it’s such a touchstone for so many different things, it has the power to tell stories about Alaska, about its people, about its culture and natural history, that are all tied to it in many different ways.” Plus it had a following—a level of celebrity unmatched by anything in the museum’s collection. “So for me it was like, this is a really powerful object.”

With connections to statehood, the military, the postwar boom, mining, road construction, hunting, and outdoor adventure, Bus 142’s story touches on nearly every big moment in modern Alaskan history. In a curator’s hands, it’s the kind of thing that can be used to speak to a lot of different people about a lot of different things. But bringing the bus to the UAMN would be fraught, because it remained controversial. Detractors wouldn’t like it getting a new round of attention, and fans still resented that it was removed from the wild.

A few weeks after the bus was removed, the museum team learned that the UAMN had been selected to take custody of it. Now the challenge was to build an exhibit that proved the object’s worth to as many people as possible.

Creating a large permanent museum exhibit is both a tangible physical process and an intellectual one. The museum staff knew that they would have to put together an advisory team to help think through ways to position the bus and its role in Alaska’s history. Linn recalls them asking, “Who were the people that were going to be part of that team, in order to capture this huge range of perspectives?”

Carine was one of the first names on the list. She was young when Chris died—just 21—and at first her parents spoke for the family. But in the years since, she has become an important point of contact for her brother’s admirers, and received thousands of emails and letters about what he meant to people. She became a more prominent figure after her bestselling book, The Wild Truth , was published in 2014. These days she often speaks in schools and colleges, where her book and Krakauer’s are sometimes assigned side by side .

Carine, who is now 52, still lives in Virginia, where she works as a writer and editor. She knew, as soon as she heard about the removal, that she would likely need to serve as a bridge between authorities in Alaska and the Into the Wild community. With her friend Erik Halfacre, a former Alaskan hiker and guide who for years promoted safer travel to the bus, she formed a nonprofit, Friends of Bus 142 . “That was the next step,” Halfacre says. “What are we going to do to try to get this thing a long-term home?”

Once the state confirmed that the bus was headed to Fairbanks, both Carine and Halfacre joined the advisory council. So did Mickey Mariner Hines, who lived in the bus as a young child after her father bought it. (Jess Mariner also shot footage of the bus at the time, a valuable resource for museum staff and now part of the collection.) They were joined by a couple of local journalists who’d written about the bus, a few historians, a biologist from Denali National Park, citizens of nearby Athabascan tribes, several museum staff, and others. For the first six months, this large group gathered on Zoom to brainstorm themes and narratives.

The bus had to be free for anyone to see—that was a requirement built into the agreement with the state. And there were other guardrails dictated by the scope of the project. “From an exhibit standpoint, the collection calls the shots,” says Roger Topp, the museum’s director of exhibits. Due to its size, the bus would have to be displayed outside. A shelter would need to be built, to protect it against the worst of Alaska’s weather, and repairs performed to keep the interior sealed and dry.

Carine McCandless knew, as soon as she heard about the removal of Bus 142 from the wilderness, that she would likely need to serve as a bridge between authorities in Alaska and the Into the Wild community.

In the end, the group settled on three main components. The first is the outdoor display: the bus itself, placed in an open-sided shelter in a pocket of boreal forest behind the museum parking lot, accompanied by interpretive panels at the site and along the trail leading to it. Anyone will be able to visit, observe, and even touch the bus’s exterior; access to the interior will be limited to guided tours only.

The second exhibit is a much smaller display inside one of the main museum galleries, highlighting objects from and related to the bus that are too fragile to be left in situ. The national guardsmen who removed the vehicle from the Stampede Trail were careful to preserve the items left inside and scattered around it over the years. These arrived at the museum in two large crates that have since been cataloged and stored. They form a curious mixture: tributes to Chris and his story—a half-burned dollar bill, a dream catcher, Tibetan prayer flags—alongside plausibly useful items left behind for some hiker who might need them, including a crank-powered flashlight, a plastic trowel, and fire-starter blocks. Also in the collection are a folding camp chair believed to be the one Chris sat in for his self-portrait and the mattress on which he died. (The chair will be part of the indoor display; the mattress, says Linn, will be stored by the museum out of sight of the public.)

The third piece is digital, and while the indoor and outdoor exhibits won’t be open until 2025, some virtual components are already coming together. Museum staffer Della Hall, project manager for the conservation phase, spent several days combing every surface of the bus for graffiti, taking digital photos of each carving or tag. The 700-odd photos have been compiled into an album online , with visitors encouraged to claim their tag and tell the story of their visit to the Stampede Trail.

The album caters specifically to a community already heavily invested in the bus. But the exhibit will range much more widely, examining successive waves of incursion and extraction that have defined Alaska since its colonization. It will explore the roles of mining and road construction in the creation of the state’s modern interior. It will touch on its more than 1,500 missing persons, a disproportionate number of whom are Indigenous, and ask an uncomfortable question: Why does the world care so much about one young man and tend to ignore so many others? And it will consider the role of literature, of books like Into the Wild, in shaping cultural ideas about Alaska.

The plan is to use the bus as a prism, each facet shedding light on another aspect of a much larger story.

On a sunny afternoon last July, I visited the high bay, the enormous engineering lab at the University of Alaska Fairbanks where conservation work on the bus was completed. I had driven into Fairbanks that morning from the Alaska-Yukon border town of Tok, braking for moose and dodging potholes. I made it up the hill to campus and met Angela Linn in the museum lobby, and then we hopped in her car and drove over to the high bay. After years of reading, thinking, and writing about the bus—after looking at photos and watching the movie—I would finally see it for myself.

Linn used a swipe card to unlock the access door, and I paused just inside the threshold, unprepared for how incredibly familiar the object itself seemed. I knew this bus. I knew its rusting, green and white paint job, mottled with yellow patches from the older coat of paint showing through. I knew its rounded roof and bulbous fenders. I knew its blunt black letters: FAIRBANKS CITY TRANSIT SYSTEM.

The bus looked exactly how I expected it to look. And the museum would like it to stay that way. In October 2022, Linn’s team received a $500,000 grant from the federally funded Save America’s Treasures program to perform the work needed on the bus. That allowed them to hire an expert group of conservators from Pennsylvania-based B. R. Howard and Associates.

In museum terminology, to restore an object means to turn back the clock, to make changes with the aim of returning it to a previous state. Had this been the goal, they could have used the information available to them—photos, footage, recollections of people who’d visited the site over the years—to make the bus appear as Chris found it in 1992. Or they could have spun the dial back even further, to the version abandoned on the trail at the start of the 1960s. Instead, the work they did is known as conservation—keeping the bus the way it is now, locked in time.

“Because [the bus] is such a touchstone for so many different things,” says Pat Druckenmiller, director of UAMN, “it has the power to tell stories about Alaska, about its people, about its culture and natural history, that are all tied to it in many different ways.”

We circled the vehicle and Linn talked me through some of the work that had been done over the past six months or so. “Let me see, the windows were almost entirely shot out or broken,” she began. The conservators removed the original metal window frames to have them fitted with new glass, and a local company donated the panes, along with the labor to reassemble everything. Technically, that was restoration and not conservation, but also a necessary step to keep the weather at bay.

The paint, exposed to decades of Alaskan winters, was flaking off inside and out. In some areas of the exterior the problem was easy to manage, but inside the bus, where every surface was covered with messages left by visitors, preserving the graffiti meant attending to each individual flake.

“It was kind of like cornflakes, if you can imagine,” says Brian Howard, the head conservator and cofounder of B. R. Howard. “It was very brittle and had lifted and cupped, but still loosely adhered to the metal substrate.” The team applied a liquid consolidant to hold the paint in place, then ironed the flakes into a smooth layer. In some places, that meant using a syringe and going flake by flake. Howard recalls spending two days on a single square foot.

Rust was a big concern. Any exposed patches had to be brushed smooth, removing the surface oxidation before a layer of acrylic resin could be applied. And we aren’t talking about a few bits: there was rust in the interior of the bus, inside and outside the barrel stove, on the hood, and across the entire undercarriage. Compared with the graffiti preservation, Howard says, “removing corrosion underneath the bus was not delicate work, but it had to be very thorough.” The underside was coated with layers of mud dating back to the 1950s, and all that caked-on earth held moisture. Howard’s team spent ten days lying on their backs, clearing away dirt and rust with wire brushes before rolling the resin on.

From January to April of 2023, working in teams that rotated in and out of Alaska from Pennsylvania, the conservators stabilized the bus. They scraped away mosses and lichens from its gutters; pulled up ancient layers of rotting carpet, linoleum, and plywood on the floor (preserving a sample of each, then installing a new plywood and linoleum floor), and documenting everything as they went.

The process required dozens of individual decisions, each influencing how the public would experience Bus 142. Most glaring were the four gaping holes that had been cut into the roof and the floor to allow the bus to be hauled out by helicopter. The holes had to go: the bus needed to be watertight before it could be displayed outdoors. So the cut metal panels were fastened back in place, and the paint job on and around them restored—with one exception. The museum team decided to leave the lines where the panels were cut visible. Like scars left by surgery, they were a reminder: the flight out was part of the bus’s story now, too.

Then there was the 142 that appeared in black numerals near the top of the bus on the driver’s side. It’s visible in the camp chair photo, and often appears in images taken by visitors to the site. But by the time the bus was helicoptered off the Stampede Trail, the number had been carefully, thoroughly shot to hell.

At the Friends of Bus 142 website, nearly three decades of photographs have been crowdsourced and organized in chronological order. For the conservators and museum staff, they proved to be an invaluable resource—a month-by-month record of decay that allowed them to pinpoint the timing of the sabotage by gunfire. “If you look at the photos,” says Linn, “you can see exactly when it happened.”

The obliteration of the 142, along with the local hostility those bullet holes represented, were part of the bus’s history. But to Carine, preserving the effacement risked emphasizing negativity. “You have people who wanted to hike to the bus from all corners of this planet,” she says. “Now it’s going to be even easier to see. You’re going to have people come to the museum, and they’re going to be emotional, and they’re going to want to take their picture in front of it. If you take that away from them, you’re going to minimize the satisfaction of your audience.”

“You’re not dishonoring the truth by putting the 142 back,” she says. “The truth is this whole story and what it means to people.”

The team settled on a compromise. A new piece of metal, painted with a new 142, was affixed to the damaged exterior and made to look seamless. But from the inside you can still see the holes, along with each twisted curl of metal blown inward by the shot. You can reach out, as I did, and feel the jagged edges.

I first read Into the Wild not long before the movie came out. At the time, I was around the same age Chris was when he died. It was early in my writing career, and I worked for a website blogging about travel news and trends. That’s how I learned about the dilemma of the bus, the hikers who sought it out and the rescues they sometimes required. Two years later, at 27, I set out on my own big, wild adventure. I bought an aging Jeep and drove west across Canada to the Yukon, where I now live.

I often dreamed about hiking and camping; I dreamed of writing for Outside someday. I was, you could say, in the prime McCandless-admiring demographic. But I never found myself relating to Chris the way so many others had. I wasn’t infuriated by his choices, and I felt sadness and empathy for how his story ended. But I’d always had trouble wrapping my head around the kind of isolation he sought, and I hadn’t understood his decision to cut off all contact with his family.

That changed when Carine published The Wild Truth. She described a harrowingly abusive childhood. She wrote about how their parents’ home had been a facade, an apparently perfect suburban existence that obscured the violence and unhappiness within. She wrote that the happiest times she and Chris had, their reprieves, were in wild places. Suddenly, the pieces of Chris’s story that never made much sense to me—the fierceness of his disdain for conformity, his drive to push deeper and deeper into wilderness adventure, his willingness to disappear into a new life—clicked. It all made sense to me then.

On that summer afternoon in Fairbanks, when Linn pushed open the folding door of the bus and let me climb inside, I had a similar experience: a moment when something that once puzzled or eluded me snapped into focus. The bus was dim, and smaller than the city transports I’m accustomed to, but the space was powerful. A decade earlier, I interviewed a man who’d made several treks down the Stampede Trail, and he told me then that he believed the bus had a kind of spiritual magic to it, a mystical ability to confer peace on its visitors. He attributed that power to Chris himself—in a residual way, rather than a haunting—and at the time, hearing that, I probably stifled a groan. But now I wondered: If enough people imbue an object with their own potent beliefs, can it send that power back out, even to a nonbeliever like me?

I felt like I had stepped into a quiet corner of a temple or church. Only instead of being awed into silence by soaring stone arches or ancient mosaics or the dappled light of stained glass, I was staring at messages left by hundreds of visitors over the years.

I felt like I had stepped into a quiet corner of a temple or church. Only instead of being awed into silence by soaring stone arches or ancient mosaics or the dappled light of stained glass, I was staring at messages left by hundreds of visitors over the years, the notes that B. R. Howard had preserved and Della Hall had cataloged and photographed so meticulously.

“I don’t want a never ending life but to be alive while I’m here,” read one, carved into the paint.

“Live before you die.”

“Get busy living.”

“I vow to live my life with truth, love, and happiness, always.”

“You’ve inspired me.”

“Thanx 4 the inspiration Chris!”

“He was here.”

“Thank you Chris.”

“I wouldn’t be the man I am today without your story.”

There were messages in other languages. ( “Chris, Merci de m’avoir ouvert les yeux.” ) There were snippets of poems and quotations from literature. (Tolstoy’s famous line “I want movement, not a calm course of existence,” and a verse from Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken.”) In one corner, there were messages left by Carine during her own trips to the bus.

The sheer volume of scribbles, and the earnestness of what they expressed, were overwhelming. I was deeply, unexpectedly moved. If reading Carine’s book had helped me understand Chris, seeing the bus for myself helped me understand the people who’d followed him down the Stampede Trail.

Maybe that’s the magic of Bus 142 finding its way to the Museum of the North: It’s a chance for everyone who sees the exhibit to expand their understanding of a complex, multilayered story. For those who come looking for something more personal (a picture of the bus maybe, or a connection with Chris), to learn about the long history of outsiders who ventured north with extraction of one kind or another in mind. And for those who found themselves raising an eyebrow or rolling their eyes at Chris’s memory, to gain an appreciation for the impact he’s had on countless people the world over.

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