Something that nagged in my mind as I read the Walker Percy portions regarding leaving the beaten path and how that is the only real way to recover the creature is that every time I go somewhere quintessentially scenic or notorious, I push the limits of how far into it I can go. I’m not sure that makes sense in that phrasing but I think I have always been fairly dissatisfied with the structures of limitation that exist in beautiful places worth visiting. For example, if I go to the edge of the ocean, I want to touch the water. If I’m hiking a mountain, I want to stand as close to the cliff as I can without falling. It is in these places where I feel it is most possible to *feel* whatever it is you’re supposed to feel when you seek out a beautiful place.

When we continued to talk about this desire and almost necessity to be off the path, Professor Brandes mentioned Mesa Verde and how suffocating it is have to be guided or otherwise limited. This is something I have noticed mostly in family-friendly destinations in the US. The endless signs and railings and walls and fences not only disrupt the views in my mind, they also detract from the experience by forcing instruction and restriction where I feel instruction and restriction ought not be necessary. I understand that a lot of things are safety precautions and I honestly got used to them to the point where I scarcely noticed them as obtrusively as I once did.

Until my family visited Ireland a few summers ago. Nowhere that we went had a railing, and the few places that had signs bore signage that was far more common sense and far less belittling. I remember lying on the edge of a rock face at the Cliffs of Moher with my younger sister trembling with the knowledge (and the cold) that I could be blown away into the sea (and to my death) at any moment. It was a beautiful memorable moment to the core because there I was at this supremely touristy destination and yet no one was guarding it or telling me what to photograph or what not to touch or where not to be. I experienced this glory again this past summer when my family returned again to the motherland and hiked up to Dun Anghasa on Innis More, Aran Islands. The ruins of the fort are built up to the edge of a massive ocean-viewing cliff and there is nothing to prevent anyone from sprinting and leaping if they so choose. No cameras, no guards, not even a sign. Until my father made it up and nearly fainted seeing my mom, sister and I perched on the ledge, we were completely in awe at our proximity to such natural danger and beauty.

I wish that more places within my reasonable regions of access were like this at home. I definitely felt that parks were less restrictive in the Western United States but I still felt as though the quantity of people and especially children made me feel like I needed to be on guard at times. I think I would have liked to hung out with Walker Percy and learned more about his thoughts on the presence and importance of man’s relation to nature.