Road Trip

Man, Seldom at Home in His Own Universe and Generally Lost: The Road's a Trip a True Story Creatively Remembered by Brian Petyo

Driving to my campsite in Sequoia was easy, but enjoying it was a different story. I decided to ride a rented inner tube as far as it would take me. My hope was that I could make the five mile trek down the trickling rapids to the ocean. There, I was convinced, I would be crowned river king and carry my inner tube from one makeshift balsa wood tee-pee to the next for jealous congratulations and an occasional way-to-go-dude. That is of course if anyone else was on the beach today.

A beautiful canopy of escape, the air is full of possibilities. Clean air, fresh waters, and the darkest greens. Hidden somewhere in these redwood archives lied truth; lied the secrets of centuries. Crunching needles and forest under every step was a veritable massage that tingled up my legs and through my back and spinal cord - tapping some primal urge to roam. No moment falls unnoticed here in nature's crowning achievement. And I, being one traveler, set out to explore bravely this new world.

I knew where I was and where I wanted to go. I know, by now you're wondering how I planned to return upstream after drifting down as far as could. But man and his universe is a one-way street: He knows not from whence he comes or where he goes. All we know is that it's impossible to go anywhere and return untouched.

It's the ultimate destination. Meandering my way under a canopy of storied trees, rushing over cascading waters - the blue arteries of mother earth - through unique territories of our vast continent, I thought, was the kind of adventure that Louis and Clark must have endured. Of course, I wasn't planning on surveying the entire United States, I just wanted to crash her shores like the waves. For there, the skies would be bluer and the sunshine a little warmer and, somehow, I'd return to tell of it. Off I went in search of the unknown.