Explorer Sarah Marquis on survival in the wild

Sarah, are you particularly good at not listening to people?
Sarah Marquis: Yes. (laughs) No, you know what? I’m particularly good at listening to myself.

Have you always been like that? What kind of person was young Sarah?
Sarah Marquis: I grew up in a really small village in a part of Switzerland that was structurally weak. There were no role models, no prospects for an exciting life. But there was the book bus that came every week. I ran to it, borrowed classics, biographies and adventure novels, and devoured them all. I disappeared into the books. And I disappeared into the woods with my brothers. Those were my worlds. And if you connect them, you get the life I’ve been leading for over 25 years.

Your journey is – literally – like no other. You were drawn to long hikes alone from an early age. How did those around you react back then?
Sarah Marquis: When my mum talked to other mothers about their children, it went like this: My son is an accountant. My daughter’s studying medicine. What does your daughter do? And my mum would answer: She walks. (laughs) I always had to explain myself. But what can I say? For me, it was and still is the best thing there is. It doesn’t matter if others don’t understand. Walking nourishes my heart. I knew this was the path I had to take, because it made me so happy.

Why go on foot? Why not by car or bike?
Sarah Marquis: Walking is our natural speed, the pace that allows us to read the landscape. All our senses are made for hiking. Where I go, that’s vital for survival.

But why do you choose to hike in the places you do – the most inhospitable regions of Australia, for example?
Sarah Marquis: Because you have to be good there. Everything around you is unknown. It sharpens your senses. You have to be aware of everything to survive. This makes your mind clearer, more centred. There’s a different language out there. It’s like you’re understanding this language for the first time. And if you speak it, you’ll have a new home.

What language is that?
Sarah Marquis: An instinctive language. And also a human language, you mustn’t forget that. A primal human language. We are part of nature; we carry it within us. And it’s so nice to be able to read the signs. You know when a storm is coming because the animals show it much earlier in their behaviour. I feel things on my skin; I smell when there’s water nearby.

Can you tell us more about what that’s like, in concrete terms?
Sarah Marquis: One time in Australia, I didn’t find anything to drink for two days. I pitched my tent and looked at my map. It was clear to me that if I walked for eight hours in one direction I’d hit a river for sure. I had every step in my head. I knew where I was going. And when I started walking at 3:30 in the morning, I suddenly turned off after 500 meters. My body didn’t do what my head said. Shortly afterwards, I encountered wild vegetation and a pond with pure, clean water.

But you don’t embark on your adventures naively and spontaneously. You prepare thoroughly ...
Sarah Marquis: Yes, that’s essential. I love the research part. I read all I can find about the region, and believe me, the internet doesn’t have all the answers. You have to do proper research, go to libraries, search for old books and pore over them. About the region, flora and fauna, hunting techniques, protection techniques. Then I arrive a month earlier and learn about the people and the country on the ground.

You talk to the locals?
Sarah Marquis: Yes, I learnt a lot from the indigenous Australians. Their wealth of knowledge is incredible, so valuable, so old. But also new (laughs) ...

That sounds like a story!
Sarah Marquis: I pestered an old fisherman in Tasmania. There are an awful lot of leeches in the rainforest, who like to sneak into every orifice of the body. I was sure there were tricks to keep them away. But I didn’t find anything in the books. And so I stood in front of the old man every day. He was annoyed, but I was stubborn. At some point, he said: I’ll tell you, but you can’t tell anyone. And do you know how the men protect themselves? They put on silk tights. The leeches don’t get through them. So, it’s a pretty modern tip.

How do you know what to eat and what not to eat?
Sarah Marquis: There are some tests I do. First, I rub the plant on the inside of my forearm, where the skin is particularly thin and sensitive, and see if there’s a reaction. If not, I’ll put it in my mouth and chew a little. Then I spit it out and wait for a reaction.

Are you always right?
Sarah Marquis: Not always, no. I was terribly hungry in the rainforest once. Oh, I was so hungry. And then I saw this fruit. Everywhere. Beautiful, seductive fruit. And I knew it wouldn’t go well. No bird or animal had eaten it. The whole ground was covered, but there was no excrement. I still bit into it – and it tasted terrible. Then I tried again and eventually the flavour was OK. I was sitting there, looking into the forest, thinking to myself: life is beautiful – and then a film came over my eyes. I went blind.

What do you do in a situation like that?
Sarah Marquis: I had to laugh. I imagined the tree looking down at me and laughing at me. I drank a lot and the liquid cleared the fog.

You still hike with a map and a compass, don’t you?
Sarah Marquis: Topography is the starting point for me. I need it to put everything in order, to understand everything and to memorise it. Now I can see on a map where there must be water or an almond tree. It’s like in a supermarket, where you know where to find the milk. If you do something for 25 years, you get really good at it.

When you make such intense demands on your senses, there’s less room for things that take up a lot of space in civilisation, isn’t there?
Sarah Marquis: I call it the process of cleansing from society. From all the norms, influences, classifications. At first, you still hear voices. Of parents, friends, the world. But they fade away after three to four weeks. This world melts away. Then you’re there. There’s no before, no after. Just the now.

That sounds transcendent.
Sarah Marquis: No, it’s not. I have a full, intense awareness of the life around me. I become part of nature. It’s an intense ‘here’, a ‘becoming one’, but not transcendence.

But it’s not a walk in the park. You’ve only just escaped death many times. Crocodiles in Australia, dengue fever in the jungles of Laos, a broken arm in the Tasmanian rainforest and drunken horsemen threatening you in Mongolia.
Sarah Marquis: When I set off, I know that my life is at stake. But I have this firm belief in myself, in my abilities. It’s not an ego thing. It’s not just about me. I believe that I carry all the knowledge of many generations within me. You have to give yourself up in a way, deconstruct yourself, in order to connect with nature and believe in something greater.

But our heads and the people around us often rob us of our confidence, don’t they?
Sarah Marquis: Absolutely. Our heads argue, and others project their fears onto us. You’ve never done this before, it’s too high, it’s too dark, you don’t know the terrain, xyz could happen – and your head says: no, you’re not doing that.

Do you have any tips on how to let go of these reservations?
Sarah Marquis: Step by step. Confidence is a process. If you dream of something, do it. But take your time. Sleep in the woods for a night. Get used to the sounds. You’ll sleep badly, that’s normal. But it will change you. You will overcome your fears and gain confidence in yourself and in nature. You learn so much along the way, and it changes you when you understand that you’re capable of much more than you think – and that there is more to you than your head or society tells you.

Are you still discovering things about yourself?
Sarah Marquis: Every day! I keep doing things I’ve never done before. I don’t want to stay in my comfort zone. I don’t want my world to get smaller. I want to learn, I want to discover new things. I’ve written books, and I find it hard to write books. I’ve built a little house, I’ve given workshops, I’ve given a TED talk ...

That’s what’s fascinating about you. You move just as naturally in the solitude of nature as you do among people. You seem to be a cheerful person and in no way a misanthrope, escaping into the seclusion of nature.
Sarah Marquis: No, not at all. I don’t run away from people. I live in the woods in Valais in my little bubble, but I’ll also go to a conference with 2,000 people in Paris. I see my role as a connecting element between humans and nature.

And especially as an inspiration for women, right?
Sarah Marquis: Yes, for me there were no female role models. At least none that were still alive. The explorers were tall, bearded men. I think that for women, adventures in the wilderness are even easier because we are more intuitive and have a more sensuous openness to life. We don’t rely on strength and muscles, we trust our inner guide.

Nevertheless, women are still a rarity among adventurers.
Sarah Marquis: And it’s important that this changes. Nature can teach us so much, bring us so much relief and so much self-confidence. And we are blocked by traditional roles and patterns of thought. Yes, we women are different from men. But not weaker or less capable. Quite the opposite, actually – we need more feminine energy. It’s not about dominance, but about balance. There’s still a long way to go. The amazing thing is that we complement each other so wonderfully and are so much stronger together.

When you look at the world, what do you see?
Sarah Marquis: A spider’s web. Everything is connected. These are dynamics that we can understand if we engage with nature, including our nature. Life is magical.