Opening
In these chapters, Michael Easter leaves the comfort of observation for the messier reality of participation—stalking and killing an old caribou bull in the Arctic, then hauling its weight across miles of tundra. Parallel journeys to Bhutan deepen the stakes as he studies mortality, impermanence, and the psychology of burden, fusing physical ordeal with philosophical clarity.
What Happens
Chapter 16: 3 GOOD LEGS
Easter, Donnie Vincent, and William relocate their camp 20 miles north to a new valley. From a ridge, they glass a herd of roughly 25 caribou, including two large bulls. As they wait for movement, Donnie lays out his “fair chase” ethic: use the tool you shoot best, but get close enough to give the animal a chance to detect you. He dismisses ultra-long-range shooting as a “video game” and primitive weapons as more likely to wound. The conversation frames hunting as a respectful, ethical way of engaging with the wild and sets the tone for a Reconnection with Nature and Wildness rooted in restraint.
Hours pass. The herd finally drops into the valley, and the men launch a hard push to intercept. They ghost along a ridge, then slide into open ground, belly-crawling across frozen, sodden tundra. Donnie signals and whispers adjustments; Easter steadies the rifle. As the animals flow past at 100 yards, a battered, limping old bull with scarred haunches and lopsided antlers threads in and out of view. The opening keeps closing. At 150 yards, a gap appears. Easter inhales, settles crosshairs on the shoulder, and readies the shot—the scene cutting out on a taut cliffhanger.
Chapter 17: 12/31, 11:59:33 P.M.
The scene shifts to existential scale. Easter recalls the “cosmic calendar,” which compresses the universe’s 13.8 billion years into one year—human history alive for only the final 27 seconds. The revelation destabilizes him. Against this vastness, he weighs the improbability of his own existence and the cocoon of modern comfort, introducing Confronting Mortality for a Fuller Life as the section’s spine. He argues that Western norms—embalming, sterile medicalized dying, and cultural avoidance—worsen fear and regret.
To see another path, he travels to Bhutan. Dasho Karma Ura, steward of Gross National Happiness, explains a philosophy that prioritizes well-being over growth. He contends that America’s obsession with external comforts undermines inner well-being, while Bhutan’s happiness stems from community ties, belonging to the landscape, and frank engagement with death. This approach counters The Crisis of Comfort, offering a living pedagogy that keeps internal conditions resilient.
Chapter 18: Mitakpa
Easter seeks out Khenpo Phuntsho Tashi, a leading monk who critiques the Western “checklist” life—ceaseless achieving that masks spiritual drift. He calls this “Western laziness,” a busywork trap that avoids what matters. The corrective is mindfulness of death. The Khenpo teaches mitakpa, impermanence: knowing life is finite is like walking toward a cliff—awareness changes your steps, refines attention, and opens compassion.
At the main hospital, Lama Damcho Gyeltshen counsels the dying and confirms the Khenpo’s wisdom from the bedside. Those who never faced mortality accumulate regrets; those who practice impermanence soften the “three delusions” of greed, anger, and ignorance. He urges Easter to reflect on mitakpa three times daily, to stay curious about death, and to remember it can arrive at any moment. The practice calms the mind, improves relationships, and grows gratitude—a practical, daily route to meaning.
Chapter 19: 20 MINUTES, 11 SECONDS
Back in the Arctic, the rifle cracks. The first shot hits; the bull stumbles but stays up. Donnie commands, “Shoot again.” Easter cycles the bolt; the second shot punches the heart. The herd scatters. The old bull falls, and Easter is struck by a surge of sadness, awe, relief, and gratitude. The butchering begins and lasts hours, turning the kill into food with deliberate care. Donnie reframes the act: a limping, aging bull likely dies worse—by predation, starvation, or a rival’s antlers. A bullet, he argues, is quicker and more merciful than the romantic myth of painless nature.
The chapter intercuts with a memory from Bhutan. On the trail down from Tiger’s Nest, a monk collapses. Easter performs CPR alongside two visiting doctors for 20 minutes, 11 seconds—until the declaration of death. The teaching lands off the page and into the body: death can come at any time. The hunt and the failed resuscitation bracket a single truth, philosophical and visceral at once.
Chapter 20: 100+ POUNDS & ≤50 POUNDS
With the caribou broken down, the men shoulder out. As the shooter, Easter hauls the heaviest load—over 100 pounds of meat, cape, and antlered head—five miles uphill to camp. The pain blooms and compounds, testing will more than muscle and spotlighting The Importance of Physical Work and Carrying Loads. He recalls Timothy Noakes’s “central governor theory,” that fatigue is largely a brain-created limit. The march becomes a misogi in action, aligned with Embracing Voluntary Discomfort.
Easter broadens the lens: anthropologist Dan Lieberman argues humans evolve for endurance and carrying. Hunter-gatherer movement patterns dwarf modern activity levels. To translate that heritage to today, Easter meets Jason McCarthy, a former Green Beret and founder of GORUCK, who champions “rucking”—walking with weight—as accessible, social, and potent for strength and cardio. Cardiologists back its safety and scalability. The takeaway: carrying loads is not just workout; it’s an ancestral human pattern we’ve engineered away, to our detriment.
Character Development
Easter steps from spectator to participant. The stalk, the shot, the butchering, and the backbreaking haul confront him with life, death, and responsibility. Bhutan supplies language—impermanence, regret, inner conditions—that lets him metabolize the Arctic’s visceral lessons.
- Accepts the ethical burden of hunting and the duty to use the meat
- Practices presence under pressure—steadying for the shot, working the field-dress, enduring the pack-out
- Integrates mortality awareness into daily life, not as dread but as orientation
Donnie Vincent anchors the expedition’s ethic and execution.
- Models “fair chase” judgment and calm fieldcraft
- Reframes the kill as mercy within nature’s harsh calculus
- Guides Easter through the emotional aftermath with unblinking realism
Khenpo Phuntsho Tashi and Lama Damcho Gyeltshen serve as spiritual counterweights.
- Diagnose the “checklist” life and prescribe mitakpa
- Translate meditation into bedside pragmatism: prepare now to avoid regret later
Jason McCarthy embodies application.
- Converts ancestral carrying into a modern, doable practice
- Bridges elite military skill to civilian health and community
Themes & Symbols
Confronting Mortality for a Fuller Life. Bhutan’s teachings make death thinkable; the hunt and the monk’s collapse make it undeniable. Awareness of finitude reframes choices, dissolves petty concerns, and heightens gratitude. The chapters argue that turning toward death—rather than sanitizing or outsourcing it—yields a steadier, braver life.
The Importance of Physical Work and Carrying Loads. The pack-out and the science of rucking insist that purposeful hardship is not a hobby but a human requirement. Carrying weight builds capacity—cardiovascular, muscular, social, and mental—while exposing modern comfort as a trap that breeds fragility.
- The Old, Limping Bull: A living emblem of impermanence and mercy. Choosing an aged, injured animal aligns the hunt with ecological reality rather than conquest.
- The Ruck: A deliberate burden and ritual tool. It turns “embrace discomfort” from slogan into practice, restoring a missing human movement.
Key Quotes
“Use the tool you’re deadliest with, but get close enough to give the animal a fair chance.”
This distills Donnie’s ethic. Skill is honored, but proximity restores reciprocity—predator and prey aware of each other—keeping technology from erasing risk and respect.
“Long-range shooting is a video game.”
The jab targets detachment. If the animal can’t sense you, the hunt drifts into simulation, diluting responsibility and the embodied knowledge a fair chase demands.
“Death can come at any time.”
The lama’s counsel becomes literal in Bhutan and thematic in the Arctic. The sentence collapses abstract philosophy into daily practice: live ready, relate better, waste less.
“Shoot again.”
Donnie’s terse command compresses mentorship, urgency, and duty to end suffering quickly. Ethic becomes action—clean, decisive, accountable.
A “necessary tool that could have made them live a fuller life.”
The lama’s judgment on mortality contemplation reframes death-awareness from morbid to medicinal. Used regularly, it guides choices toward meaning and away from regret.
Why This Matters and Section Significance
This section braids three strands—hunt, Bhutan, and human movement—into a single argument: to live well, reenter reality. That means participating in nature with ethics, facing death without euphemism, and reclaiming the labor our bodies evolved to do. The Arctic hunt ceases to be scenery; it becomes initiation. Bhutan supplies the inner framework to carry that initiation forward. Rucking offers an ordinary, repeatable practice that grounds the book’s insights in daily life. Together, these chapters transform discomfort from a stunt into a discipline and mortality from a terror into a teacher.