SHA04195

The : A Narrative Case Study Simon Shaw. The University of Melbourne, Australia

Abstract As an outdoor educator, I am continually questioning whether the academic needs of my students are being fulfilled through fieldtrips such as those offered to students enrolled in subjects that have rationales and pedagogies grounded in experiential education. Focused on university students’ experiences on a five-day bush walk on the Overland Track in , Australia, this study examines the experiences of eight students on a field trip that forms a core learning experience in an outdoor and environmental studies subject. This paper, presented in the form of a narrative case study, examines the ability for students to achieve set learning objectives in an unfamiliar and often confronting learning environment. This study found that the learning experiences of the students is consistent with Abraham Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, and that academically framed learning objectives were not met until physiological, safety, belonging and esteem needs of the students were fulfilled.

Introduction Despite the late hour, physical exhaustion and an intense desire to sleep, I lay awake in my sleeping bag on this, the final night of this five-day bushwalk. Eight students and myself were close to completing a walk commonly referred to as the Overland Track in Tasmania, Australia. The track, roughly 80 kilometres long, extends from the northern shores of Dove Lake to the northern shores of , cutting a route through the spectacular, remote and pristine – Lake St Clair National Park.

The reason I lay awake was two-fold. The storm that hit us the previous night was still raging and although we were enjoying the relative comfort of a bushwalker’s hut on this night, I could clearly hear all around me the wild sounds of thunder, lightning and ferocious wind gusts and I could only imagine the havoc the storm was causing outside.

The second reason I lay awake was because I was deep in thought about some of the comments I heard as I conversed with the students, some of which were deeply profound. I wondered as I tried to sleep whether some of these comments were a reflection of their development generated through this field trip. These thoughts inevitably led me to wonder whether by lunch tomorrow, when we were due to reach the end of the walk, we had achieved the objectives we set for ourselves.

We were completing the walk as a requirement to complete a subject at The University of Melbourne in which I teach. The subject is designed to guide students toward a deeper understanding of the interrelations between themselves, other people and the natural environment. The subject focuses on experiential learning in an intensive way during field trips, including this one on the Overland Track, providing a first hand experience of the notion of learning as holistic and situational. Students will benefit from the subject in multiple ways, although the subject is specifically concerned with the cognitive, psychological and social development of its students.

To evaluate the effectiveness of this field trip, I needed to look back at my own notes I had made during the trip. I have always kept detailed notes of the occurrences on these field trips in my journal; it allows me to further explore the role that nature plays in our lives; it enables me to further justify the learning processes that occur in wilderness settings; it gives me some idea of how successful I am in communicating my ideas to others.

Linear and Cyclical Social Evolution Before the commencement of the field trip we had decided to focus group discussion on a paper entitled ‘The Metronomic Society and The Natural Environment’ (Nettleton, 1999) in which the author expresses the opinion that our linear lifestyle has caused us to devalue or outright ignore the very thing that makes us human; the natural environment. Nettleton argues that it is the clock and not the sun, moon and seasons that dictates our daily movements. This, in turn, cuts our ties with the natural rhythms that so influenced the lives of our ancestors and still influences most creatures that live on this earth (Nettleton, 1999).

Having read this paper prior to departure, we have decided as a group to test the validity of this paper by living the next five days without our time pieces, depending wholly upon the sun and our bodies to determine our movements. None of the students on this trip had ever experienced five continuous days in ignorance of time, and each of the students removed their watches, some nervously exposing a tan line that indicated they rarely went anywhere without their time piece.

So we gathered without our watches, and stood on the shores of Dove Lake located at the northern tip of the Overland Track, on this October morning. Many people in the past have stood at this location and seen the awesome sight of Cradle Mountain standing 1,545 metres above sea level. Dramatic near-vertical pillars of dolerite rock compel the observer to question what immense forces are responsible for creating such an enormous structure. Waterfalls cascade off the mountain, through distant fern gullies and plunge into the icy depths of the black waters of Dove Lake.

If the group were expecting that marvellous scene to greet them on this day, they were to be terribly disappointed. A strong wind was blowing a combination of rain and sleet in an almost horizontal direction. As the group were making the final adjustments to their heavy backpacks they had to shelter their faces, the only unprotected part of their bodies, from the biting wind. Cradle Mountain was not in view, in fact very few peaks could be seen from the vantage point of Dove Lake in the near whiteout conditions.

The bus that escorted the group to Dove Lake departed. Due to the weather no one else was in the car park, which is a most unusual sight given that the car park itself normally affords quite spectacular views and therefore attracts large crowds. After some time, a hire vehicle with two tourists drove into the car park. They immediately realised there was very little point in getting out of the vehicle and seemed content looking through a bundle of brochures they had collected from a nearby visitor information centre. After a short while, they drove off leaving us completely alone again.

Our group consisted of Michelle, Jim, Helen, Susan, Adam, Jeremy, John, David and myself. I was the only group member who had walked the track before, having completed it several times over the previous few years. With some showing signs of hesitation, we headed off into the driving rain, knowing that the weather was unlikely to improve in the immediate future. The track left the shores of Dove Lake and followed the gentle contours of the nearby hills, meandering its way through lightly timbered forest and small tarns. Despite the continuing rain, at this stage the group are happy. Some are reporting that their packs do not feel comfortable, so we stop and rest whilst they are being readjusted. John jokingly asks after the first 10 minutes if we have reached our evening destination of Waterfall Valley Hut. The group responded in nervous laughter, some were no doubt hoping at some subconscious level that it was true.

A couple of group members try their first taste of water from a swollen creek. The concept of drinking water out of anything but a faucet is foreign to them. The fact that the creek water is stained brown from the leeching tannins does not help them overcome their fears. Helen is unlucky enough to collect a bug in her drink bottle, which doesn’t encourage her to drink the water. They protest that water is supposed to be clear and bug free, but they drink it anyway with much hesitation.

Have we sheltered ourselves from the natural environment so much that we no longer know when water can be consumed directly from a stream? This is not an urban waterway surrounded by buildings, roads and cars but a national park kilometres from infrastructure and agriculture that has the potential to pollute the watercourses. We can see the water cascading off the mountains into the fast-flowing creek yet the students are hesitant to fill their water containers.

Is this a reflection of the Metronomic Society as described by Nettleton? Are these students somehow living a life where they believe that water does not come from the earth’s natural processes but is somehow miraculously provided by an ever-dependable faucet? In south-eastern Australia, including Tasmania, water was something that we once depended upon in a cyclical fashion, it would rain during our cooler months which we would store in tanks and reservoirs for the periods of time when it did not rain which could be weeks, months or even years. It made us value water and become acutely aware of how to locate and conserve “good” water. The availability of clear, treated water is linear rather than cyclical, despite external pressures such as drought and pollution. It is little wonder that today the students looked at their water with trepidation.

Emerging Social Needs After our pack readjustments, we continue the journey that had barely even started. The track makes a notable turn up a steeper spur line. The path is slippery and unstable, and the group are thankful for a metal bar that has been cemented into the rock that provides some support. This is the first big hill of the walk, and the students have a mixed response. One of the group members, Jim, is a tall, muscular and athletic man. He marches up the steep incline in an aggressive manner that replicates the way he no doubt uses the “stairmaster” in the gym. Another of the group members, Michelle, has discovered that she is carrying too much weight in her backpack and is struggling. Although Michelle doesn’t vocalise her difficulties, Adam and John simultaneously offer their assistance and carry some of her belongings, for which she is clearly thankful. An ethos of caring and group responsibility is emerging even though the people within this group barely know each other and are still trying to remember first names.

It doesn’t take long for us to reach the top of the hill, Marion’s Lookout. The weather is still poor, but the group remain in high spirits. As they gather at Marion’s Lookout, they talk with each other in the way new acquaintances do. They investigate each other’s backgrounds and experiences, they talk of family and friends and places they would like to visit. There is very little to see at Marion’s Lookout. The rain has subsided but we are in the cloud, and our vision extends to no more than 50 metres.

After recuperating, we walk along a gently ascending plateau and come across a patch of snow. Soon there were more patches, and not long after we were trudging through knee- deep snow looking for the occasional patch of soil. We reach Kitchen Hut, which was almost entirely buried in snow. A few of the group decided to dig their way through to the door so lunch could be enjoyed out of the harsh weather. They were delighted to find the snow was easy to move, and the remainder of the group congratulated their work as they cheerfully entered the hut. It was not warm inside, but it was dry and it offered protection if only for a short while.

The hard work of the day thus far meant that people were hungry and all enjoyed lunch. This was a type of hunger many had not felt for a while, the type of hunger one gets when the body is demanding more energy reserves. We were not eating due to it being a certain time of the day designated to be “lunch time”. We were not eating because of boredom or habit as we are so often inclined to do. We were eating because we were truly hungry and our weakened bodies required fuel for the rest of the day.

We left the refuge of the hut and continued our struggle with the depth of the snow as we traversed around the fog-covered Cradle Mountain. The mountain offered us protection from the icy blasts, although the winds thundering through nearby valleys reminded us that it wasn’t too far away. We came across a patch of dead eucalypts; the fine particles of mist weaving through the dead trees caused an eerie scene, and silence fell upon the group for the first time. We walked through these eucalypts and descended into Waterfall Valley where the snow eased off the path. Morale was high amongst the group members.

“As a group we worked together to form trails in the snow, laughing and joking as we lost balance and spent a majority of the time lying in the snow. Upon reflection, it could have become negative as our feet were becoming wet, our legs tired. However, not at one moment did negative thoughts enter our minds as the atmosphere was one of laughter and joking generating a positive environment.” (Susan, Journal Extract)

Upon our arrival to Waterfall Valley we found our bushwalker’s hut which we would call home until the following morning. The clouds lifted and as evening fell the sky turned pink. From the hut we stood in the shadows of , an impressive mountain that dominated the western skyline. Common wombats, red-necked wallabies and brushtail possums emerged from the surrounding forests to graze on the grasses near the hut.

Darkness fell and we gathered together in the hut of no more than 15 square metres in size. Wet jackets and over pants hung from every available nail on the walls, forming puddles underneath on the wooden floor as they dripped dry. The body warmth of 9 people soon allowed the small hut to heat up slightly. People had to apologise when they left the hut to go to collect water or use the outside long-drop toilet as opening the door meant that some of that heat escaped.

One of the assessment requirements for the subject is that students are to give a short presentation to the group, outlining the relationship that they have with the natural environment, and how this relationship has shaped their views on an experience such as the one they are presently having. The first night’s presenters, Adam and Jim gave their presentations to the group by candlelight. They did an admirable job, although they struggled to maintain audience attention. Susan had to work hard to stay awake; Jeremy was silent and I suspect asleep. We spoke briefly of the omniscient tour guide we had seen during the day, and how we had observed him catching a brushtail possum by the tail and held it up on display to his clients before letting the clearly disgruntled animal free. This lead into discussion of the impact of commercialising wilderness experience, although the group were clearly not in the mood for elongated talk.

I thought it best if we let those who are tired to go to sleep, and within 10 minutes of finishing the discussion, the vibrating sounds of a chorus of snorers were all that could be heard. My guess is that it would have been around 8.00pm, two hours after sunset. It was probably the first time in years that these students had been to bed so early, their bodies not used to waking at sunrise and enduring a day of such physicality. Nettleton argued that “we are the first mammals in history of the world to be both diurnal and nocturnal. Artificial lighting has transformed the life of industrial society. Humans have colonised the night” (Nettleton, 1999). On this night however, we had reverted back to our pre- industrialised lifestyle and slept soundly.

David later reflected on the occurrences of our first night together cramped in the small hut in his journal. He wrote of the increase in comfort with one another as the trip progresses, and how tiredness was not the only factor as to why the input into discussion was so minimal.

“As a group gets to know each other, you feel more comfortable. You feel like you have a little more leeway as to what you can get away with. I think every person regardless of how smart or stupid they are doesn’t want to say something where they might be ridiculed. No-one wants to say something where there will be that awkward silence.” (David, Journal Extract)

Abraham Maslow (1987) would locate David’s journal extract within a hierarchy of needs. He argues that most human action is motivated by basic needs, and that these needs are hierarchical with lower order needs needing to be fulfilled before higher order needs. The most basic of needs are those of a physiological nature including the need for food, air and water. Once this need is satisfied, the individual seeks to fulfil the next level of needs which are those concerning safety including security, stability, protection, structure and order.

David’s comments could be located within the next tier, those needs associated with belonging. His physiological and safety needs having been met, he wanted to ensure that he felt part of the group through friendship and through the giving and receiving of affection but paradoxically felt uncomfortable with group discussion in that the wrong style of input may jeopardise his socialisation over the forthcoming days.

The following morning after breakfast, the group put on their backpacks and continued their journey. At 21 kilometres, this day would be our longest. Compared with the day before, the route however was relatively flat, and the group enjoyed the chance to pay more attention to the dramatic surrounds instead of having to concentrate so hard on placing their feet appropriately. By mid-morning the mist had cleared and we marvelled at the views at the cavernous Forth Valley Lookout.

Despite different pace levels within the group, everyone stayed together for much of the day. At a subconscious level it may have been that they were sensing an attainment of belonging and realising their socialisation will be threatened through distancing themselves physically from each other. The people who were faster walkers such as Jim, Susan and David were able to slow down and still appreciate the experience, acknowledging that the group needed each other for physical and moral support. John, who was the least fit out of the group, was beginning to feel the strain of the walk, and spent much of his time with his head down engaged in thought at the rear of the group. He was the group’s most introverted member, but was engrossed in the experience and clearly enjoying his own company.

“I zoned out often while walking, and I daydreamed while zoning out. I’d dream mostly about my brother’s upcoming wedding, my eventual wedding and who I would marry, the thought of becoming a father, what career path I want to take, and I’d often dream that I had achieved something big that I was striving for. I realised upon reflection that my daydreams were spiritual experiences. They told me what was important and where my values stood.” (John, Journal Extract)

After Forth Valley Lookout, the track gently descends to Frog Flats, which at 720m above sea level is the lowest point on the track. This section was wet due to recent rain, and the boggy conditions meant that everyone’s boots became extremely muddy, heavy and waterlogged. This made the last few kilometres of the day, a gentle uphill walk, excruciatingly tiresome for the weary group. At a rest point, with about a kilometre still to go, Jeremy mentioned that he was struggling physically up the hill. Until that moment, not a single person had confessed publicly to physically feeling anything but fine for the entire duration of the trip. His confession however opened a floodgate of responses, and soon the rest of the group were heartily agreeing with him, admitting that they too were finding it difficult and thankful that they were not alone. Jeremy’s comments immediately had an impact upon the esteem of all, and the group’s mood for the last kilometre of the day was far more jovial than it had been since Frog Flats.

Maslow would describe these students as moving from satisfying their need for belonging onto satisfying their need to improve self-esteem. These students were seeking to improve self-esteem through achievement, adequacy, competence and confidence, but also seeking to be held in the esteem of others through recognition, importance, status and appreciation (Schunk, 1996).

Cognitive Development The night was spent at Pelion Hut and we gathered together after dinner and two more of the group members, Michelle and David, gave their presentations. The response to these presentations was much more positive than the previous evening, with the entire group enthusiastically getting involved in the subsequent discussion, which went for several hours.

The first and second nights could not have been more contrasting. The students were a lot more relaxed and at ease with not only each other but also the environment in which they had immersed themselves. Whilst on the first night the discussion stalled, the second night it was far more fluid. The students weren’t participating in the discussions because they felt they needed to fulfil the requirements of the subject, their participation was brought about due to the experience stimulating them into wanting to understand more about themselves and their relationship with nature.

“I was always paying attention to the discussions because I always found them very interesting. Our discussions were so relaxed and informal. I pretty much loved everybody in the group. No matter how deep we got we were always able to crack jokes and have a laugh. I really appreciated and really enjoyed that balance. Part of the reason they got really deep and they were quite profound discussions were that we were so comfortable with each other and we had that solid group unity. For that reason I was always looking forward to the discussions and presentations.” (Adam, Interview Transcript)

The group awoke the following morning to blue skies and a cold day. The shallow puddles outside had iced over, and steam rose off the buttongrass plains that Pelion Hut looked over. The group rose without the need for a wake up call, their bodies now in tune with the rhythms of nature, having acknowledged and been in a position to reject their lives outside of this experience that is so comprehensively dictated by linear time.

The continuation of our walk that morning to was a difficult one. The thickly forested track was clear of debris and relatively free of mud but it was a persistent climb uphill, ascending 300 metres over less than 3 kilometres. This section was done without a break for no other reason than no one stopped and requested one. Upon emerging out of the beech myrtle forest and reaching Pelion Gap, the group collectively unbuckled their waist and chest buckles and threw their packs to the ground. Sweat poured off the faces as they sat with their heads down, in a way that Jim was to later relate to by describing the group as a bunch of footballers resting on an interchange bench after the most difficult half of their life. It was still only mid-morning and the day was already warming up considerably. Thermal underwear was exchanged for t-shirts, and woollen hats were replaced with baseball caps and sun hats. Much of the recent snow had already melted and from the vantage point of Pelion Gap, we marvelled at the awesome sight of Mt Ossa towering above us at 1,617 metres.

When the conditions are good Mt Ossa is a three-hour side trip from Pelion Gap, but it was clear that today was not going to be the day to climb it. Although the sun was out and some snow had started to melt, it was clearly still inaccessible due to the recent storms and quite dangerous as the snow and ice were unstable.

Two kilometres to the east lay Mt Pelion East. At 1,433 metres, it did not have the same snow coverage as Mt Ossa and much of it looked very accessible. We discussed the possibility of walking up to the top and Michelle and Helen consulted the map and worked out it would take about two hours to go up to the top and return. It would most likely be a physically difficult walk up, although the backpacks did not have to be carried so there would not be so much of a weight burden. It was decided unanimously that we would go up and we would head off immediately, rather than sitting and recovering from the previous section of track.

We headed off together as a group, just as we had walked the previous days together. Jim, David, Michelle and Helen lead at the front, navigating their way through thick scoparia and patches of snow. Jeremy, Adam, Susan and John took a greater amount of time, following them until they decided to stop and sit on a rock platform two-thirds of the way up the mountain.

“It was suggested that we climb Mt Pelion East. Panting heavily, but determinedly we acquiesced. We scampered upward through the immaculate patched of snow and past the thick, green blankets of moss to Mt Pelion East. We managed to climb halfway up the ancient rock, we turned and looked over the world.” (Adam, Journal Extract)

The front group continued and reached the summit, soon to be joined by the others. The walk up to the top took a little under an hour, and the group sat together and marvelled at what was in front of them. To the north they could see all that they have achieved: They could see Cradle Mountain, Barn Bluff and Forth Valley. They could trace their steps that morning as they ascended up the valley to Pelion Gap. Directly to the west they could see Mt Ossa, such a stunning sight on a clear day. To the south lay what was ahead of us: We could see the valley between the Cathedral Range and Mt Massif, and our immediate future lay somewhere in between these overwhelming formations.

“It was perhaps the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. The snow-capped peak of Mt Ossa, the highest point in Tasmania, loomed in front of me. To the north I could follow the path we had taken thus far on our journey. I traced it back, through Pine Forest Moor, across the plains, in between Lake Will and Lake Ellen, all the way to Barn Bluff and Cradle Mountain. It was like something out of a movie, or a picture book. We all attempted to capture the magnificence of the moment with our cameras, but no man-made object could ever duplicate the emotions that filled me up at the time. It was a sense of amazement, of joy, of wonder, of satisfaction. All I remember is that it felt good.” (Jeremy, Journal Extract)

On Mt Pelion East we discussed the concept of spirituality as many of the students thought of this moment as a deeply spiritual one. I felt an underlying sense of belonging; to myself, to the others, to the place. Michelle spoke of religion, but it was quickly pointed out that spirituality does not have to involve a divine spirit. We talked about these things and later sat in comfortable silence at the top.

We descended back to Pelion Gap in a fraction of the time it took to get up. We had lunch, took a few obligatory photographs and continued the walk. We were heading into the gap we could see from the top of Mt Pelion East, and a new sense of enthusiasm encroached upon us. The group separated slightly as we walked to Kia Ora Hut, with many students enjoying the time to walk in silent solitude. We passed a few swollen creek beds, and I watched as Helen filled up her water bottle, no longer concerned about the tannin stained water or the inevitable bug she inadvertently collected.

We reached Kia Ora Hut sometime in the late afternoon. David approached me about the possibility of walking further that day, given that we still had a few good hours of daylight. “What would be the point of that?”, I asked him. David pondered upon the question. “I guess there is no point”, was his final response. He understood that this walk was not about getting to the end, it was about immersing ourselves within the experience.

Self-Actualisation and Eros Jeremy and Susan gave their presentations in the fading light, sitting on some outside decking carefully assembled by Tasmania Parks and Wildlife. Susan spoke of her mix of emotions coming on this walk, and was comforted by the admissions of others that they too felt many of the same things. We pondered why excitement and fear can be so interchangeable, and why it was that we were paying such close attention to our emotions where we avoid doing that in every day life.

Jeremy spoke of spirituality, and the lasting effects of a trip like this one can have on your soul. He declared that this day was one of the most spiritual in his life. It was something he did not expect when he started the walk three days earlier. Others too had given the concept of spirituality some deep consideration since the discussion earlier in the day on Mt Pelion East.

“The spirituality one can reach in nature [sic] is something that until recently I had not given much consideration. It seems odd to think that the benefits of leisure to be more than the mental and physical rest from work. Yet, in the wilderness people are inspired to think. Brains don’t shut off when they stare out to glades of snow, peaks, dense forests or waterfalls. They are full of activity”. (Jim, Journal Extract)

I was having less and less to do with the facilitation of the discussions. There was very little resemblance between the group’s behaviour on the first night and that on this night. At the beginning of the trip I found it difficult to get much input into discussion, but here I was on the evening of day three watching a group of eight people talking about some of the most complex philosophical issues in relation to outdoor and environmental education. My input into discussion was simply to drag it back on track if it had drifted off on an unrelated tangent.

Maslow would describe this as self-actualisation. This term refers to people’s desire for fulfilment; to become everything that one is capable of becoming. A key assumption within Maslow’s hierarchy of needs is that each person is motivated to further understand the world around them and that unlike physiological, safety, belonging and self-esteem needs, this need for self-actualisation is not motivated by a deficiency but rather by a desire for personal growth (Schunk, 1996).

The concept of desire for personal growth, or self-actualisation, is closely linked with Eros, the energy of wanting. Eros concerns the intrinsic quality of drive to achieve something that will offer us some form of reward, such as an aesthetic or moral reward. It is an innate, ever-present quality that makes us human. Schwab (1954) argues that Eros is as much an energy source in the pursuit of truth as it is in the motion toward pleasure, friendship, fame or power. The fact that it is part of us, that we as humans cannot escape it, means that this energy can be harnessed to enhance the learning experience.

The discussions continued as dinner was prepared and we settled down to a fine pasta meal as night fell and the stars emerged. On a brilliantly clear night, the constellations were out and we all wished we knew more about astronomy. A few of the girls decided to make up their own constellations, the men making a lewd variation of the same game. In the west, through the trees we observed a thick band of ominous-looking clouds approaching. Everyone went off to their tents and slept in hope that it did not mean further rain.

At some stage soon after I fell asleep, I woke to hear the gentle and familiar sound of a large raindrop hitting the nylon fly of my tent. Another, and another followed this, and I could hear a small squeal and excited laughter from one of the nearby tents. It started to fall more consistently and the rhythm was able to put me back to sleep again.

It rained consistently throughout the night. When I awoke in the morning on this our fourth day, I was surprised that the rain had not dented the group’s enthusiasm. They saw beauty in the rain-soaked landscape just as they had seen beauty on the clear days. The relationship they were developing with the natural environment was turning into a friendship. Clearly a pivotal step in developing a relationship with the natural environment, they were able to value and appreciate this environment regardless of its “mood”, in the same way that we value our relationships with our family and friends despite of their ever-changing “moods” (Nettleton, 1993).

We collected all of our wet gear and headed into the hut where we could pack our bags in a dry, comfortable setting. After we had finished packing, we waited for a short while hoping that the weather would clear. In that time it became considerably worse, so we decided there was no point in delaying the inevitable and off we went, our target for the day being Windy Ridge Hut.

The rain continued to fall heavily. The rain hoods on our jackets wrapped up our faces and ears so that only our eyes were exposed. This affected our ability to communicate with each other, so we effectively walked in solitude. We walked in a line, with John at the front setting the pace. Sounds were of wind and rain, of temporary waterfalls cascading off rocky embankments, of wet feet squelching in boots.

We walked via the spectacular D’Alton Falls on the Mersey River and on to Windy Ridge Hut. The rain had been continuous the entire day, making it difficult to even stop for lunch. The rain in many ways added to the experience, with the track weaving through some Tolkien-like myrtle beech forest. It was like we had entered a fantasy land; freshwater crayfish were scampering off the track as their homes were getting washed away; the rocks were covered in more mosses and lichens that I could identify; the trees let through hardly any light and it was hard to imagine what a dark place this would be in the depths of the night.

Conversation grew as the afternoon progressed and the continuing beauty of the area allowed the group to remain upbeat, no doubt helped with the prospect of soon reaching the small but heated Windy Ridge Hut.

“At the beginning of the hike I was only able to concentrate on one thing at a time: hiking, keeping up with the rest of the group, not falling over in the snow. Later, when my body got used to the rhythm, there was more time to enjoy the views and hear the sounds of nature.” (Michelle, Journal Extract)

A Time of Reflection We arrived at Windy Ridge Hut and immediately David worked hard at igniting the coal stove, and soon had it glowing a deliciously warm red. We sat and talked. We discussed items of a formal nature, such as assessment and the required readings; we narrated stories of adventures we experienced in a life before we started this journey together; we told jokes and we all laughed out loud. John was involved in group discourse more so than any other previous night. It was an evening of great joy. This was, however, our last night together on the trip. We all knew it of course; it was just that no one wanted to mention it.

One by one we went off to the warmth and comfort of our sleeping bags and as the storm continued to rage outside and, as I had stated by way of introducing this paper, I lay deep in my thoughts as to whether we had achieved the set objectives and indeed questioning whether it is possible to even set objectives in an environment where the learning outcomes are so unpredictable.

The following morning we awoke early to find the rain was continuing to fall. This gave us the opportunity for Helen and John to give their presentations. They did so with much enthusiasm, and the rest of the group responded accordingly. Discussion was conducted by the group without the need of my own input or influence. I ultimately had to force it to a close, as we had to reach the northern shores of Lake St Claire by 1.00pm to meet the ferry, and by my best estimations we had around four hours to walk on this our final day. The group were shocked and silenced when I mentioned our time limitations, as it was the first time since in five days that anyone had referred to time as a physical constraint. Time was something that existed in the outside world; it had no place on this track. The mere mention of time meant that we were about to re-enter our previous existence.

“Time wasn’t an issue at all. We woke up with the sun, hiked until we got hungry, set up camp, ate, talked and slept. There was never a sense of urgency. I loved not worrying about what time it was. There were none of the pressures associated with time that I usually put on myself, and it let me appreciate what I was experiencing” (David, Journal Extract)

So despite a relatively short period of time in the wilderness, the students were able to immerse themselves in the environment and cast off the shackles of linear time, and feel completely at ease with a new way of functioning. A simple strategy such as the removal of timepieces has further established a relationship between these students and their natural environment and subsequently had a profound effect upon their experience.

We packed and continued our walk to Lake St Clair. In consistent rain, we travelled through more thick forest, crossed moors and buttongrass plains, scrambled over rocks and waded through shallow creeks. We crossed Narcissus River over a long rope bridge, Adam and Jeremy likening it to the sort of thing they would expect to see in an Indiana Jones film. They all took it in turns walking over the bridge, handing their cameras to the person in front so they could take a photograph and have this memory stored forever on film.

Then, emerging out of the trees came Narcissus Hut on the shore of Lake St Clair. This was the end of the walk. There were no fireworks, to reception, no congratulatory messages. There wasn’t any real true joy in finishing the walk. The group had truly enjoyed the experience of walking in wilderness, and they didn’t necessarily want it to end. Conversation was dominated by the anti-climactic sense and finality of reaching Lake St Clair, not by the thrill of a hot shower or the comfort of a proper bed.

Promises were made to maintain contact, contact details exchanged and nights in the coming weeks were organised so that we could all meet together again. Strong friendships had been forged and in the coming days, photographs were shown and stories were told to, at best, vaguely interested family and friends. It was up to the group to turn to each other, as we were the only people on this earth that could truly understand and appreciate the experience we shared.

I have chosen to present this paper as a narrative form of inquiry as an explanation of reality that I feel can only be told through the telling of a story. As a mode of communication that is more resonant with a human experience, it provides a sense of immediacy of the event and I feel that it serves as the perfect vehicle for ensuring that the experience is understood in a holistic sense.

In writing this narrative piece I fully acknowledge that I have raised far more questions than I have answered, in particular the type and effectiveness of learning by the students, It is my intention that through this paper I can offer an insight into the minds of these students and attempt to unravel the complexities of learning in an environment that can be engaging and majestical yet unpredictable and even threatening.

References

Chapman, J. 1998. Cradle Mountain Lake St Clair and Walls of Jerusalem National Parks. McPherson’s Printing Group.

Maslow, A.H. 1987. Motivation and Personality. Harper & Row Publishers.

Nettleton, B. 1993. A Perspective of Outdoor Education: Nature as a Friend. The Outdoor Educator. Journal of the Victorian Outdoor Education Association. Pp 17-21

Nettleton, B. 1999. The Metronomic Society and the Natural Environment. Australian Journal of Outdoor Education. Vol 3 No.2. pp 4-8.

Schunk, D.H. 1996 Learning Theories. 2nd Edition. Prentice Hall

Schwab. J.J. 1954. Eros and Education: A Discussion of One Aspect of Discussion. Journal of General Education. Vol.8 pp54