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Winter 2003
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Meriwether Lewis and William Clark
had little way of knowing what lay ahead when they left
St. Louis in 1804. Over the next two years and four
months, they and their Corps of Discovery would trek
across some 7,000 miles of uncharted wilderness. Along
the way, they would experience hardships that tested
their limits of endurance: frostbite, heat stroke, chronic
fatigue, malnutrition, debilitating intestinal ailments,
plagues of insects, loneliness, isolation, and the constant
stress of dealing with the unknown.
Some of their gear was the best that
money could buy — fifteen of the newest rifles
from the federal arsenal at Harpers Ferry and a $250
chronometer for calculating longitude — but most
of it was standard early 19th century stuff that was
heavy and hard to carry. Their tools and implements
were made of metal, wood, or leather. Their clothes
were made from fabrics that retained moisture, which
meant that hypothermia was an ever-present danger and
skin irritations were a common affliction. Tents made
of oiled cloth were hot in the summer, cold in the winter,
and not always impervious to the elements.
Think about it! Today, we wouldn’t
let kids sleep out in the backyard with equipment like
that. Which got us to thinking: What if Lewis and Clark
had been able to order their supplies from a 21st century
“outdoor adventure” catalog?
Every page of those catalogs offers
up a minor technological marvel: raingear that’s
waterproof and breathable; sleeping bags rated
to 40 degrees below zero; high-performance fabrics that
help prevent hypothermia by wicking moisture away from
the body. There are even items that would have amazed
people in the 1960s, let alone the 19th century —
things like a $100 wristwatch that’s also an altimeter,
a barometer, a thermometer, a digital compass, and a
chronograph; or the $200 GPS device with an integrated,
waterproof, two-way radio.
And if the variety of products is
astounding, so too is the range of choices. Take sleeping
bags, for example. You can buy one insulated with goose
down or Thermolite® or Polarguard® or Hollofil®
or Quallofil® or . . . well you get the idea. If
one bag doesn’t have the features you want at
a price you can afford, there are at least a dozen others
to choose from.
But here’s the truly remarkable
thing: Almost all the stuff in the pages of those catalogs
is for recreational use. We’ve reached the point
where a sizable number of people have the time and money
for frills.
So, the next time you see catalogs
spilling out of your mailbox, don’t think of them
as junk mail. Think of them as tools for measuring changes
in the material standard of living.
The want of provisions,
together with the difficulty of passing those emence
mountains has dampened the Spirits of the party.
William Clark
September 17, 1805
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