This is Steven, he's my best friend now.

The town was swarmed by hippie draft dodgers back in the ’60s. Today, the region is considered the grow-op capital of Canada. Sure enough, cheap weed can be found on every street but the same can hardy be said of housing. So, with little money to my name, I packed up and headed into the wild.

Now, I’m not an experienced hobo. I’ve gleaned a few pointers on being a bum from Kerouac, folk music and Into the Wild, but besides that I’m pretty much at the mercy of God. So while I’m still alive, I would like to tell you urbanites about my primitive life.

I began by rambling down the railroad tracks. Finding a spot along the river, I pitched my tent and just like that, had a place to call home. It might sound rough, but vagrancy is really a sweet deal.

No one asks a bum for a damage deposit, references or any of that. Even the location is decent. For a mere 50 bucks, I found a bike that allows me to commute back to modernity when I need. This way I still get a healthy dose of Starbucks coffee and wireless Internet.

As the days passed, I realized that vagrancy is a God-given right. After all, cavemen didn’t pay rent, barbarians didn’t pay rent, so why should I have to? It seems we spend the majority of our lives making money to buy a house with fancy bathrooms and big backyards. But for a simpleton like me, the earth is a good enough house, the lake is a refreshing bath, the ground is a comfortable bed and the forest — well, it’s just one big toilet.

But the wild, like any neighbourhood, has troublesome neighbours. Locals assure me that grizzlies and cougars live nearby. Admittedly, the threat of getting eaten alive is not something I look for in a home, but if I’m going to die young, being torn to shreds seems like a good option.

I appreciate that most humans toil to escape all these elements. But the truth is, humans are animals and capable of living in harmony with nature. Living in the forest requires no alarm clock, since the birds wake you up. Living under the sky makes you intimately in tune with weather. The sun seems more joyous, the rain more dreadful and the thunder more frightful.

I’m not a religious fellow, but walking through the great outdoors makes me experience a spirituality I can never feel in any human artifice. The wonders of nature frequently remind me, “This is a pretty miraculous world we happened upon.” Unlike the city, nature is teeming with life. I realize that people, birds and moss are all connected.

I probably sound like a misanthrope but I do miss people. They give me a place to direct my complaints about life. For this reason, I still have a cellphone. It keeps me in touch with important world affairs — like Wienergate. Sometimes I like having no people around though. Without people, I can eat peanut butter from a jar, have dirt on my pants and not give a damn.

I’m sure a story like mine conjures up images of a bearded hermit, smoking his pipe, muttering to himself. Actually, that’s not so far from off. At times, I get a bit loopy and I have no real outlet for that. The city, on the other hand, offers many ways to forget existential angst. In Saskatoon, I can drown my sorrows in a bar with other sad sacks, or binge on junk food whilst watching The Simpsons.

Fortunately, I have met another crazy 20-something. The other day we hiked up a steep mountain together using all fours to scale the sharp rocks and loose earth. At the top, we looked out to a majestic view of tree-covered mountains. Having grown up in the flatlands, I was astounded. Until that moment, I had only seen such panoramas in Lord of the Rings. Surely, the hike would have seemed more epic had I been equipped with a sword, cape and dramatic dialogue.

The whole trip has been an exciting experience, but there is no way I could live like this forever. When I first made my way to Nelson to face the wilderness, I had visions of spiritual awakening à la the Beatles’ retreat to India, except it turns out the lifestyle is more akin to Survivorman.

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image: Dan Morales/Flickr