No Idea

3

My shoulders thank me when I transfer my ever-heavy backpack on to a large rock situated just right in between two towering pine trees, the gap between them painting a whole new view of my city. Wow, its like a different planet up here without all the unnecessary noise of neighbours and parents and teachers and the overwhelming talk of the future.

Almost routinely I pull out my tattered copy of 'Boy, Mountain' and the pages greet me with a gentle rustle of taped up edges and folded corners, the souvenirs of past adventures as I follow the lead character around on life altering trips. This really is my favourite book I mean, it's the reason I am here sitting on this rock surrounded by trees and flowers and small little bugs which I have learned to peacefully coexist with rather than fear and most importantly, this book, this small 472 page book with tears in its spine and coffee stains throughout, is the reason I continue to adventure.

Let me explain. I found it in my local library wedged between two old history books on South American history or something irrelevant like that, and I pulled it out. There wasn't any sign of the library's label and the old wrinkly lady behind the desk said it didn't belong to the library and that someone probably left it here and that I could take it if I wanted (I did) and that she really didn't care (she didn't) and so began my misguided quest for a sense of stability. Or so my parents entitled it. That was almost 2 years ago and to say the least I was very intrigued by it, the pages were crinkled and the cover was faded but something about this little book was shining through and telling me I needed to read it. Of course, it didn't really say anything because it's a book and I know books don't talk and all my friends fail to see that I am in fact not crazy, but rather enjoy reading and finding new books that don't seem completely lame. The plot revolves around this guy, and he's young and attractive and wildly spontaneous and he just decides all of a sudden one day that he wants to experience everything that life has to offer and he packs his car and drives. He just drives and drives and drives until he has this feeling, this gut feeling that he has reached the right place. Somewhere full of potential and adventure and even a little hint of danger and he just walks on out to this lookout, and he can see water and trees and the faint outline of ridges which he can't distinguish to be clouds or mountains and then he just stops. He stops because he knows this is the place he wanted to find, he sees this girl, and she is beautiful like absolutely stunning, and seeing her lets him know for sure that everything has clicked into place for him. Right then and there.

I knew before I even finished this book that I needed to stop laying around my small apartment in my pyjama pants and worn out t shirt that bore "the Strokes" in big faded letters. I needed to get out and drive and keep driving until I found it, the place, the girl, the sensation that would just instantly fill my brain as the wind burned my face and I would enjoy it. I know I would. I thought about it constantly; yeah I'm about the same age as him, I may not be the most attractive guy around but what I lack in aesthetics I'm sure I could make up for in adventurism. How hard could it be to travel around with no real destination? To follow my instinct and see where it takes me? Nothing seemed easier at the time. And so I did exactly that, every morning was the same, I would wake up and pack my car and drive until I found the right place that would provide me with a newfound knowledge of the world and life itself. I haven't found it yet, though there have been quite a few places I thought for sure would be it. A few winding trails, steep hills, and freezing cold creeks later I am here, in my spot, isolated from everything and everyone else. I usually enjoy having this quiet time to myself and reflect on my past conquests and imagine what my future might bring but today, today feels... off. This sometimes happens when I stay with the same spot for too long, I start to wonder if this is all a waste of time and if my friends were right and this is super lame and if I should've turned left instead of right or listened to a different CD during my drive or if I should've stayed home last night instead of getting this excruciatingly short hair cut. I wonder if I'm really cut out for all this after all. Maybe I'm not like the guy from the book.