What was your shelter strategy?

My first shelter was a teepee. Terrible idea. When everything’s damp and heavy and humid, there’s not enough draw to go under it and pull up the smoke. Even with the flap wide open, it was like a smokehouse inside. It didn’t last a night. Eventually I made a yurt that was very comfortable.

Any animal encounters?

I put my shelter uphill from the beach because I didn’t want to be next to the food and water source—and be in the path of bears and cougars and wolves. I didn’t have any encounters on film, but at night I would hear that I was sometimes surrounded by wolves. And I heard and smelled bears at night sniffing around my camp for food. They smell like a wet, dank dog.

How important was music-making to your experience?

For me, I was communicating with nature, saying hello and saying thank you. It helped me move through some internal hardship and not take myself too seriously. One side effect of singing and playing music is that an hour or two or five slips by in a beautiful way, and another day is done. You’re in a bliss state. You’re not fighting your way through time. I wish I’d done more.

How did starvation affect you mentally?

When you’re starving and you catch fish, there’s a huge emotional release. When you don’t, the head starts swirling with negative thinking: Am I doing it wrong? Have I lost the touch? Are all my fish gone? Will they ever come back? Should I shift my approach? The highs and lows are dangerous, depending on how you handle them.

What would you change?

I wish I’d have known how to manage the pressure of knowing that the world, my family and friends were watching me. With that camera in front of you, there’s a constant gaze.

What were your most exhilarating moments?

Canoeing in the ocean. The currents were strong, so the freedom of being out in the water in the canoe I made—and not drowning—was pretty cool. I was able to paddle to a place where there were clams for the taking. Once I had found that steady protein source, it became a game of: How long do I want to be out here, and how can I exist out here well? That was a real turning point. That’s when I started making my instrument and my shelter and my oil lamp.

How hard was it to re-enter the real world?

There’s this big housecleaning that took place for me out there. I felt spacious and peaceful and calm and tolerant. Then you go back to this other world and people aren’t that way. They’re distracted, they’re stressed, they’re compulsive. When I came back, I felt even more alone. And when I started eating normal foods, my discomfort was intense. I had super indigestion, felt bloated and gross. So different than living off of fresh ocean produce.

That said, I haven’t eaten a single clam since.