Words & Photos by: Patrick McKewen

If you would like to be the first to see these articles when they are published, consider subscribing to our The Pursuit Newsletter so we can let you know directly.

As I sit here by the crackling campfire, watching the embers dance in the cool night air, I can't help but reflect on the long and winding path that has brought me back to where I truly belong - in the heart of nature. My story is one of connection, loss, and rediscovery; a testament to the enduring call of the wild that resides within us all, no matter how deeply it may be buried beneath the trappings of modern life.

The Seeds of Connection

My journey began in the lush, verdant forests of the Mid-Atlantic, where as a young boy, I learned the ancient arts of hunting with a bow and fishing with nothing more than a stick and a string. My father, along my maternal grandfather (a man whose weathered hands spoke volumes of a life lived close to the land), were my first guides in the ways of the wild.

I can still recall the earthy scent of damp soil and decaying leaves as we would make our way down to the local creek. The world would be silent save for the gentle gurgle of the stream and the occasional plop of a frog diving for cover.

"Listen," my grandfather would say, his voice barely above a whisper. "The water will tell you where the fish are hiding."

And so I learned to attune my senses to the subtle language of nature. I watched how the current flowed around rocks and fallen logs, creating pockets where fish might rest. I observed the insects skimming across the surface and understood that where they gathered, the fish would soon follow.

With patient instruction, my grandfather showed me how to fashion a hook from a thorn, how to select the perfect supple branch for a pole, and how to tie knots that would hold fast against the strongest fighter. We used no fancy lures or reels, no high-tech gear or fish finders. Our methods were as old as humanity itself, passed down through countless generations.

Those early lessons instilled in me a profound respect for the natural world and my place within it. Each fish we caught was a gift, received with gratitude and used with reverence. Nothing was wasted, and every part of our catch served a purpose, from flesh to bones.

Exploring the Wild

As I grew older, my love for the outdoors only intensified. Camping trips with close friends throughout East Coast became the highlight of every summer as we explored the diverse landscapes that Appalachia had to offer.

I vividly remember the first time we camped in the Jefferson National Forest. The towering oak and hickory trees, the babbling mountain streams, and the diverse wildlife left an indelible impression on my young mind. We hiked the numerous trails, each one offering a new adventure and a fresh perspective on the raw beauty of the Appalachian ecosystem.

Further north, the mountain caverns of central Pennsylvania became a favorite destination. Here, the mysterious underground world taught me valuable lessons about the earth's hidden wonders and the power of geological processes. We would set up camp near cave entrances, falling asleep to the gentle whisper of wind through the trees and waking to the chorus of forest birds.

These excursions weren't just vacations; they were immersive experiences that deepened my connection to the natural world. I learned to identify local plant species, to spot signs of wildlife, and to navigate the rugged terrain of the Appalachian Mountains. Each trip added new skills to my repertoire and strengthened my bond with the wilderness of the Eastern United States.

Conquering New Heights

As my teenage years gave way to early adulthood, my wanderlust led me westward. The towering peaks of the Rocky Mountains called to me, promising new challenges and untamed wilderness on a scale I had never before encountered.

My first expedition into the high country of Utah was a revelation. The thin air and steep trails tested my physical limits, while the sweeping vistas of snow-capped peaks nourished my soul. I learned the art of reading topographic maps, of finding safe passage through treacherous mountain passes, and of respecting the capricious nature of high-altitude weather.

The Siren Call of Civilization

Despite these formative experiences and the deep connection I had forged with nature, the modern world beckoned. Like so many others, I found myself drawn into the vortex of urban life, seduced by the promise of career advancement, material comfort, and technological convenience.

I traded my hiking boots for dress shoes, my backpack for a briefcase. The call of the wild became a distant echo, drowned out by the cacophony of city traffic and the incessant ping of smartphone notifications. Days that were once measured by the arc of the sun across the sky were now dictated by the relentless ticking of the office clock.

At first, I reveled in the newfound comforts and opportunities that city life afforded. I climbed the corporate ladder, acquired all the trappings of success, and told myself that this was what progress looked like. But as the years wore on, a gnawing emptiness began to take root in my soul.

My body, once honed by countless miles of trails and the physical demands of outdoor life, grew soft and weak. Processed foods, alcohol, and a sedentary lifestyle took their toll, and I found myself battling health issues I had never experienced before. Stress became my constant companion, sleep my elusive friend.

Worse than the physical decline was the spiritual malaise that settled over me. I felt disconnected, not just from nature, but from myself. The skills and knowledge I had acquired over years of outdoor experience lay dormant, atrophying like unused muscles. I had become a stranger to the person I once was, a domesticated shadow of my former wild self.

The Awakening

It wasn't until my 40th birthday that the fog of complacency finally lifted. As I sat and contemplated the past decade, a sudden realization struck me with the force of a lightning bolt: I was profoundly unhappy.

That night, unable to sleep, I found myself poring over old photo albums. Images of a younger, more vibrant version of myself stared back at me from sun-dappled forests and windswept mountaintops. In those frozen moments, I saw a joy and peace that had long been absent from my life.

It was time for a change. Time to reconnect with the wild soul that had been buried beneath years of corporate conditioning and urban comfort. Time to return to my roots and rediscover the person I was meant to be.

The path back wasn't easy. Giving up the security of a steady paycheck and the comforts of modern living required a leap of faith that terrified and exhilarated me in equal measure. But with each step I took away from my old life, I felt a weight lifting from my shoulders.

Rewilding: The Journey Home

My journey of rewilding began with small steps. I started spending my weekends in nearby state parks and waterfalls, reacquainting myself with the feel of earth beneath my feet and the scent of pine in my nostrils. I dusted off my old camping gear, surprised to find that my hands still remembered how to pitch a tent and start a fire without matches.

As my confidence grew, so did my ambitions. I took longer sabbaticals in the wilderness that were transformative. Away from the constant distractions of modern life, I rediscovered the rhythms of the natural world. I bathed in cold mountain streams, cooked over fire, and walked as one with the earth beneath my feet.

With each passing day, I felt my body growing stronger, shedding the accumulated toxins of urban living. My mind, too, began to clear. The chronic anxiety that had plagued me for years melted away, replaced by a sense of calm and purpose I hadn't experienced since my youth.

Returning to my Roots: The Southeast Woodlands Hunter

As I approached my 50th birthday, I made a decision that would complete my circle of return: I took up bow hunting in the Southeast woodlands where my journey had taken me to live.

There was a poetry to this choice that resonated deeply within me. The bow, with its reliance on skill, felt like a natural extension of the fishing techniques my grandfather had taught me. It required patience, precision, and an intimate understanding of one's prey and the environment.

Remembering to hunt with a bow was a humbling experience. It forced me to hone my senses, to move with stealth and purpose through the forest. I spent countless hours practicing my draw, studying animal behavior, and learning to read the subtle signs that reveal the presence of game.

This isn’t about sport or recreation; it is a return to a more primal, authentic way of living. Every part of the animal is used, its meat filling out freezer, its hide tanned for clothing, its bones and antlers crafted into tools. In this way, we honor the animal's sacrifice and acknowledge our place within the cycle of life and death that governs the natural world.

Finding My Place

Now, as I enter my 50’s, I find myself in a place of profound contentment. I've left behind the trappings of urban life, choosing instead to live simply and naturally. My days are governed by the rhythms of nature rather than the dictates of a calendar.

I rise with the sun, spending my mornings slow and deliberate with my kids as we sip iced green tea. Mornings are spent performing output sessions like writing this article or editing a video.  Afternoons might find me learning how to build a primitive bow or working in the backyard woods to make a primitive fire pit and archery range.  Evenings are time to recuperate by turning off screens, reading, and journaling.

This life isn't always easy. There are challenges and discomforts that my former self would have found intolerable. But these challenges are also my greatest rewards. They keep me sharp, engaged, and ever-mindful of my place within the natural order.

Physically, I'm in the best shape of my life. The constant activity and clean living have reversed many of the health issues I developed during my years plugged into modern society. My body, once soft and aching, is now lean and strong, hardened by daily exertion and nourished by wholesome, natural foods.

Mentally and spiritually, the transformation has been even more profound. The chronic stress and anxiety that once clouded my thoughts have dissipated like morning mist. In their place, I've found a clarity of mind and purpose that I thought was lost to me forever. The constant background noise of modern life - the endless chatter of social media, the relentless news cycle, the pressure to consume and achieve - has been replaced by the subtle symphony of the natural world.

In returning to nature, I've not only reclaimed my health and happiness; I've rediscovered a fundamental truth about what it means to be human. We are not separate from the natural world, we are part of it. Our ancestors understood this, living in harmony with the rhythms of nature for countless generations. Somewhere along the way, we lost this connection, convincing ourselves that we could transcend our place in the natural order through technology and progress.

But true progress, I've come to believe, lies not in distancing ourselves from nature, but in reconnecting with it. In rediscovering our place within the web of life, we find not only physical health and mental clarity but also a sense of purpose and belonging that no amount of material success can provide.

As I sit here by the fire, watching the stars wheel overhead in their eternal dance, I feel a deep sense of gratitude. Gratitude for the journey that brought me here, for the lessons learned along the way, and for the wild spirit that called me home. I am where I belong - and in this belonging, I have found true freedom and lasting happiness.

Kill What You Eat,

~ Patrick