I read an article in National Geographic the other day called “Six Months
alone in a Cave” by Michael Siffre, in the March 1975 issue. It’s an article
written by a cave-dwelling scientist about people living in total seclusion
naturally switching to a 36 or even 48 hour circadian rythm, and how this
would impact future flights to mars and that sort of thing. I wonder if the
astronauts on the International Space Station try to keep to their 24 hour
cycle, or if it’s slightly extended.

Anyhow, I hate to say it, but I found the logs written by Michael as he
descended into madness mildy amusing. Apparently the human body can’t
stand isolation, and the cave he was in was partiularly hostile and mold ate
all his reading material and his record player blew a circuit… leaving him
pretty much in total utter abject solitude. It’s amusing in a tragic way, I
suppose.

He spends nearly a week obsessed with capturing a mouse, apparently the only
other living thing in the entire cave. Day 168 is entirely spent holding a
casserole dish over a little bread bit, and finally, four days later, when
the mouse finally goes for the bait, he accidentally kills slamming the
caserole dish down with his atrophying muscles. That’s pretty much the end of
his ability to form coherent sentences.

I’d get a kick out of spending a while in a place with no ability to tell
what time of day it is just to see what happens to my rythms… (I really
enjoyed the Canadian movie WayDowntown) but I have to agree with Dr. Siffre
that life is far too short to spend a year of it completely alone. I’m too
much of a people person.