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Over the weekend, the wife and I
saw The Revenant. This decision was driven mostly by my love of Leo DiCaprio,
Tom Hardy and a fondness for much of director Alejandro G. Inarritu’s back
catalog. Set in 1823 (minor spoilers follow), the movie, which is quite good,
tells the story of a wilderness guide named Hugh Glass who is horrifically
mauled by a bear, witnesses his son die a tragic death and then is abandoned by
his compatriots and left for dead. Glass, contrary to what his name might
imply, doesn’t die. In fact, he sort of recovers and sets off after those who
wronged him and his family, dead set on revenge. Along the way even more
horrible stuff happens to him involving waterfalls and cliffs and the like. The
movie runs about 2 ½ hours and really the only time Glass looks even remotely
happy for that entire time, even while his son is alive, is when he’s catching
snowflakes on his tongue with a new friend. This part doesn’t really turn out
well either.
Glass’ experience in the woods got me thinking about some of my own wilderness
excursions. Now, sure. Old Hugh might have me beat a little bit in terms of
what he endured out there. However, I’ve had a time or two out there as well,
let me tell you. Consider the following:
