His Hooded Dreamworld Hero

Chapter 2

     Mountains weren't hard to find. The interstate took him smoothly through hundreds of cumbersome miles of flat green plains. Not falling asleep at the wheel was a struggle the whole way through, even when blasting about a thousand songs at full volume to blot out the possibility of a thought. In the blink of an eye after crossing the Missouri River, though, the banality of the landscape gave way to distinctive yellow mounds rising up evermore out of the earth. The grass grew withered, the towns more sparse, and the promise of the west close enough to touch. One day's drive from sunrise into nighttime saw him clear both those tedious plains and those hilly hints of greater things to come. He stopped for the night in some small town not far outside his first row of alien red and white formations.

     Yvain spent the next two weeks immersed in the most beatific scenery he'd ever seen. Rugged Martian badland landscapes had him blissfully adrift for hours on end. Powdery remnants of primeval rocks caked his face and reigned over his hair. He effortlessly tattered the few sets of clothes he'd incessantly reused into oblivion. And then, right when he'd left his badland adventures in his past, the Black Hills had him overcome with wonder even easier. Like clusters of gigantic fossil teeth jutting out of forested earth, they were utterly new and wholly awe-inspiring. A tent he'd picked up along the way went into good use almost every night. Remote parts of state parks became his homes; forested groves, lakefront hilltops and caves overlooking alpine spectacles became his muses. Hiking as deep into the wilderness as his legs could carry him became an everyday event. Jaw-dropping scenes of a pinewood metropolis upon dramatic rocky outcrops graced him so often he could hardly recall ever seeing anything else. His phone must've rung a hundred times. He didn't pick up once.

     And still, that entire enchanting time, he knew whatever nebulous thing he was searching for was keeping out of reach. And so, eventually and with a heavy heart, he said his farewells to the hills he'd fallen head over heels for and kept his car headed west.

     His heart jumped and his life changed the second he rounded an inconspicuous bend of interstate and the Bighorn Mountains revealed themselves in all their grandeur.

     He made his way to a national forest post right on the border of a white-capped mountain wonderland. There, with haste and in amazement, he made a heading for, of course, Cloud Peak, the highest summit in the whole range. The biggest of the Black Hills were dwarfs compared to the smallest of these shining Rockies. His reason had long since taken a back seat to his enthusiasm, but by now, the former had evaporated entirely under the latter's weight. Nothing – especially as regular as his lack of preparation – was about to stop him now. He spent the night in a janky old motel. Upon dawn the next morning, he set out on what some unknowable part of him knew would be one final trial of a trail.

     The hike was brisk and easier than he'd been led to expect. Going was smooth. Relief was palpable. Beautiful Bighorn flowers kept him contented. Ceaseless seas of pine trees kept him connected. Mighty scenery of mountain majesties kept him motivated. Colors of every sort more vivid than any he'd ever seen kept him in dazed admiration. It didn't even take all the way until sunset for him to reach an alpine lake to camp at for the night before finishing the journey in the morning.

     Not a single other soul, despite clear skies and favorable temperatures, was set up anywhere else in sight. Yvain just shrugged it off. He made short work of setting up the tent he'd set up almost every night for the past two weeks, digging afterward into what few snacks he'd brought along. The tent was cozy and spacious, and better yet, on a little hill overlooking the lake. What the hell his ultimate adventure was heading to stayed unbeknownst to him, but at least for the time being, he could find some alpine peace.

***

     A clap of thunder signaled a coming storm. One look out at the newly nighttime skies told him they were revving up to pummel him. Yvain made what preparations were possible and took refuge, zipping up the tent just as the first drops hit with an apocalyptic finality.