Intro. [Recording date: June 29, 2026.]
Russ Roberts: It’s June 29th, 2026, and I’m joined by Cal Flyn, an insightful author and journalist. Today, we’re diving into her latest work, The Savage Landscape: How We Made the Wilderness. Cal, welcome to EconTalk.
Cal Flyn: Thanks for having me, Russ.
Russ Roberts: Your book explores a fascinating paradox: in a world teeming with over seven billion people, the notion of wilderness seems almost illusory. When you find yourself in the supposed wild, can it truly be unspoiled if you’re there? Yet, this idea resonates on a deep level, evoking emotions that are difficult to articulate. Your writing captures this essence beautifully, exemplifying nature writing at its finest. Congratulations on that.
Russ Roberts: Let’s discuss the title, The Savage Landscape: How We Made the Wilderness.
Cal Flyn: The title hints at various interpretations of wilderness. It invokes fear—wilderness is distinct from pastoral landscapes due to its inherent danger. Historically, it has represented territories claimed by others, whether they be different species or even different human cultures. The word ‘savage’ complicates matters, too, often used to describe indigenous peoples or those deemed ‘other.’ It reflects a cultural relativity; no one considers themselves savage. The savage landscape is inherently populated, and intriguingly, historical perceptions of wilderness have typically included humans. Only recently has the notion emerged that wilderness is devoid of people, which has led to its own set of complications.
Russ Roberts: I appreciate the title. You could have gone with ‘exotic landscape,’ but ‘savage’ is far more striking, primal, and attention-grabbing.
Russ Roberts: Tell us about your writing process. You mention some incredible experiences that shaped your work—how long did it take to write this book, and where did your explorations take you?
Cal Flyn: I dedicated about four years to researching and writing this project. However, it stems from a long-standing personal interest. I often pursue issues that provoke strong reactions in me, whether fear, exhilaration, or intrigue. I aim to engage readers with similar feelings, encouraging them to reconsider their perspectives shaped by their backgrounds and experiences.
Cal Flyn: The Savage Landscape chronicles the evolution of wilderness as a concept, traversing its theological roots, aesthetic interpretations, the rise of conservation, and our current blend of scientific and traditional landscape management approaches. I convey this narrative through ten journeys across the globe, seeking out what remains of true wilderness. Ironically, every time I thought I found it, it seemed to slip away.
Cal Flyn: My travels took me to the Yanomami Indigenous Reserve in the Amazon, where I engaged with locals about their relationship with this so-called wilderness. I also ventured to Antarctica, contemplating the tangible shifts in landscapes there as ice forms and melts. Additionally, I explored modern-day Transylvania to observe the resurgence of apex predators, a trend seen throughout Europe as conservation efforts take effect. Lastly, in Nepal, I met the Dolpo people, whose animist beliefs shape their connection to the land. I aimed to glean insights from their perspectives to inform Western land management practices.
Russ Roberts: You also visited Mount Sinai and delved into the ocean’s depths, which is an intriguing take on wilderness. Would you consider yourself adept in outdoor survival skills?
Cal Flyn: That’s an interesting question. While I’m not a professional athlete, I’m tenacious. I can endure physical challenges, thanks to preparation and a systematic approach to my gear. However, natural outdoor skills don’t come easily to me. I’ve always admired those who excel in wilderness settings, having often been surrounded by capable individuals while growing up with horses and dogs.
Russ Roberts: I ask because your book recounts numerous terrifying experiences. You reflect on moments of danger that seem essential to your exploration of wilderness. You faced bears and wolves, and dealt with harsh conditions like unexpected snowstorms. It seems vital to your narrative.
Cal Flyn: Indeed, the interplay of safety, risk, and bravery fascinates me. Sometimes, I feel at ease even in perilous situations, perhaps due to the confidence of those around me. Conversely, I can feel uneasy in seemingly safe environments. This shifting perception of risk intrigues me, and I often return to it in my writing.
Cal Flyn: The process of writing this book was akin to a wilderness trial; it forced me to confront my emotions and resilience, ultimately leading to personal growth. The challenges I faced—both physical and intellectual—were integral to the narrative.
Russ Roberts: The tools you carry also shape your experience. At times, you’ll discover you lack what you need, requiring improvisation. It’s clear that your quest wasn’t merely a chore to complete your book, but a journey into the physical and psychological challenges of venturing beyond your comfort zone.
Cal Flyn: Absolutely. Numerous times during my field research, I encountered discomfort that mirrored the themes of the chapters. Feeling frightened or unsettled often indicates I’m grappling with significant ideas or emotions, which excites me. It signals I’m digging deeper into the subject matter.
Russ Roberts: As you confront these challenges, you also engage with the landscape and its inhabitants, which adds depth to your experience. Were there locations or experiences you aimed to include but couldn’t?
Cal Flyn: Yes, I was particularly interested in exploring Russia’s zapovednik system for nature reserves, akin to the American National Park model but with stricter regulations. However, the onset of the Russian-Ukrainian War coincided with my planning, making travel there unfeasible. Perhaps a future essay could explore that.
Russ Roberts: Let’s delve into the concept of wilderness as a spiritual quest, which is the first theme you tackle. Historically, what have humans sought in wilderness for transcendence, and did you experience anything akin to that at Mount Sinai?
Cal Flyn: Visiting Mount Sinai helped me reflect on wilderness’s role across various religions, particularly in the Abrahamic traditions. Some of the earliest literature, such as the Epic of Gilgamesh, depicts quests into wilderness searching for immortality. This theme recurs in many spiritual narratives, emphasizing the need to leave familiar surroundings and return transformed.
Cal Flyn: I approached Sinai with a desire for my own enlightenment, hoping to experience something profound. Watching the sunset over the rugged landscape was breathtaking. I spent the night there with a Bedouin guide, anticipating the sunrise when many pilgrims ascend for their epiphanies. However, the influx of visitors can dilute the sincerity of such experiences, creating a paradox where sacred sites become tourist attractions.
Russ Roberts: Did you feel anything during your visit?
Cal Flyn: I felt amazement and aesthetic appreciation, but perhaps not the profound epiphany I sought. Moments of realization often arrived unexpectedly, like witnessing illuminated icebergs in Antarctica. It’s about positioning oneself for those fleeting instances of clarity—often unpredictable yet profoundly impactful.
Russ Roberts: There’s a Christian monastery at Mount Sinai, and its exact location is debated. I heard of someone who mused, ‘If this isn’t the real Mount Sinai, why are we climbing it? If it is, I’m unworthy to be here.’ It’s an odd dynamic when revelation becomes a tourist attraction.
Russ Roberts: I want to discuss predators and Yellowstone, particularly the reintroduction of wolves. Historically, their elimination allowed elk populations to explode, damaging ecosystems. Yet, the lack of wolves made the park feel less wild, akin to a curated experience. How do you see the fear of predators shaping perceptions of wilderness, both in Yellowstone and in Transylvania?
Cal Flyn: In modern Europe, we’re witnessing a rise in bear populations, particularly brown bears, which have generated conflict with agricultural communities. This ‘wildland-urban interface’ reflects a growing tension as rural areas develop and encroach upon wildlife habitats. In Romania, conflicts have escalated as people build homes in what was once bear territory, leading to increasingly frequent bear encounters.
Cal Flyn: The emotional reactions surrounding such conflicts are primal, rooted in fear for personal safety and the well-being of families. This has become a significant political issue, with differing opinions on how to manage these wildlife interactions.
Russ Roberts: In the U.S. West, the interactions between domesticated and wild animals create tension, particularly when wolves threaten livestock. I’m curious about the romanticized view of sheep farming in England and Scotland, which has shaped the landscape but isn’t entirely natural. Introducing predators poses significant cultural and economic challenges—what are your thoughts?
Cal Flyn: It’s fascinating how the instinct to reintroduce predators contradicts economic self-interest. While bringing back wolves symbolizes something greater, it also threatens the livelihoods of farmers who rely on livestock. The question of whether to return these apex predators is steeped in complex emotions and historical context.
Russ Roberts: The phrase ‘artificial intelligence’ doesn’t appear in your book, does it?
Cal Flyn: No, it doesn’t.
Russ Roberts: Your book resonates with many who feel increasingly detached from wilderness. Many experience nature through sanitized tourism, while their daily lives unfold in digital realms. Your writing captures a physicality that stands in stark contrast to this disconnection. How do you navigate that experience?
Cal Flyn: I find that experiencing places firsthand enriches my understanding. While I use technology, I prefer immersing myself in environments to grasp their complexities. Engaging directly with landscapes and cultures allows me to challenge preconceived notions and convey vivid, relatable narratives. I aim to evoke the sensory experiences of being in these wild places, making the writing an adventure.
Russ Roberts: Some in the environmental movement view humanity as an adversary to wilderness. While it’s true we encroach on nature, your work implies a nuanced understanding of humanity’s relationship with the wild. Did you find your perspective shifting during your research?
Cal Flyn: Throughout my career, I’ve learned that humans are intricately connected to their landscapes. This is evident even in areas deemed wild. For instance, I discovered misconceptions about the Australian landscape, which was shaped by indigenous firestick farming, challenging the notion of untouched wilderness. This understanding extends globally; many areas labeled as wilderness have long histories of human interaction.
Cal Flyn: Recognizing the interconnectedness of humans and nature reshapes the narrative from a conflict model to one of coexistence. Wilderness, while an emotional and spiritual ideal, is often a human-impacted reality, shaped by culture and history.
Russ Roberts: You approached a volcano in a daring adventure. I found that chapter particularly gripping. What led you to that experience, and what did you see?
Cal Flyn: I wanted to explore the evolution of landscape appreciation, particularly the sublime, which evokes both fear and admiration. My fascination with volcanic eruptions in Iceland drove me to witness one firsthand. After a failed first attempt, I returned with determination, getting as close as possible to the exclusion zone of an active eruption.
Cal Flyn: Hiking through open heathland, I felt a mix of exhilaration and fear as I approached the eruption site. The experience was electrifying yet terrifying, pushing me to confront my boundaries. As I beheld the glowing crater, the overwhelming beauty and danger intertwined, creating one of the most intense emotional experiences of my life.
Russ Roberts: Did you document your thoughts during that experience?
Cal Flyn: I used my phone for quick notes, capturing vivid impressions and emotions. Writing in real-time helps preserve those fleeting moments that can be hard to recall later.
Russ Roberts: Let’s discuss hunting, particularly in the context of wildlife management and economics. The lack of ownership over wildlife often leads to neglect, while regulated hunting licenses can fund conservation. What insights did you gain regarding hunting practices in Africa?
Cal Flyn: Initially, I grappled with the ethical implications of hunting for conservation. To understand this complex system, I shadowed a professional hunter in Mozambique’s Niassa Special Reserve. The high costs of trophy hunting contribute to conservation efforts, funding anti-poaching measures and local communities.
Cal Flyn: While I had experience with hunting for population management, big game hunting raised different ethical questions due to the endangered status of some species. The economic rationale for hunting can be compelling, especially in areas where traditional tourism is challenging. However, the racial dynamics of who participates in and benefits from these models cannot be ignored, highlighting a legacy of colonial relationships.
Russ Roberts: The model of renting hunting rights raises questions about who benefits from wildlife. In many cases, local communities are excluded from hunting rights, which can lead to resentment. How does this model change with community involvement?
Cal Flyn: The dynamics of community involvement vary widely. In Namibia, community-run trophy hunting models tend to yield better outcomes for locals, while in places like Kenya, banning hunting has led to ecological degradation. The challenge lies in reconciling local needs with conservation efforts while respecting diverse perspectives within communities.
Russ Roberts: I want to read an excerpt from your book that beautifully conveys the essence of wilderness:
I went into the wilderness then, and at other times, because I wanted to live my life more intensely. I have found that in trading day-to-day concerns for more fundamental questions of safety, survival, navigation, and supplies I could tap into a rawer, more authentic, more capable part of myself. In cutting down my routine to its most simplistic, and my belongings to the most minimal–two nested pots, a roll mat, tent, sleeping bag, map–I’ve luxuriated in the basic elements of life and my capacity to use them. In setting my own fire, chopping my own wood, making my home on the mountainside or in the forest, learning to keep myself warm and dry in all weathers–sometimes extreme–I found a calmness and a clarity often missing from the rest of my life. In scaling high ridges or narrow precipices, in sharing a habitat with wild and sometimes dangerous animals, I found a new flavour of fear and how to live with it. By seeking out situations in which there is no easy escape route, I have learned, sometimes with difficulty, how to cope without one.
That passage captures the essence of confronting modern life’s comforts. What would you say to those who find solace in avoiding discomfort? Are they missing out?
Cal Flyn: I don’t think they are. Seeking comfort is central to human nature, allowing us to thrive and build lives. Yet, many express a subconscious yearning for discomfort, fearing they may become too complacent. This tension manifests in various ways throughout history, reflecting a desire to reconnect with what is real—whether through wilderness or other forms of confrontation. Ultimately, the search for authenticity is a shared human experience.
Russ Roberts: My guest today has been Cal Flyn, author of The Savage Landscape. Thank you for joining us on EconTalk.
