“Miss Celie” | Samantha Simon ‘23

a parka, gloves, snow pants, rain gear, a tent, a fire starter kit, a hatchet, a huge backpack, a first aid kit, a water purification kit, a fire starter kit, a hunting knife, enough non-perishable food to last a week or two, boots for summer, a pot and pan, boots for winter, reusable water-proof plastic bags, trekking poles, gaiters, fishing gear, and three books to entertain myself. Don Quijote, Moby Dick, and the Bible. There is a lot that I may have omitted because it isn’t important or that I have simply forgotten. Of course, I also bought a plane ticket for Anchorage. It departs on July 14. July 14th, 2020 I’m on the airplane as I write this. Until now I have never been on an airplane, but I find it rather underwhelming. I left Mom a note explaining my disdain with modern society and culture, and I hope she understands. I do hope I see her again, but at her age it’s unlikely. Here I am, on the edge of adventure, the edge of a brand new life. Flying over British Columbia was really something. The mountains are still snow-capped, even in the dead of summer. July 15th, 2020 I’m writing this at the breakfast table of the hotel. Today will be the last day that I speak to anyone, unless I come back from the woods. Update: I am on the bus to Cantwell. Five other people are on the bus, but I haven’t spoken to any of them. In only 30 minutes I will get off and walk into the woods forever. Finally free. I haven’t ever been free. I’ve had the illusion of freedom, but always an invisible force pushes me in one direction or the other. Choices are always being made for me, but never by me. Update: I am in my tent now. My legs are burning. I must’ve walked 2 miles into the woods away from the road. That doesn’t sound like much, but my pack and gun weigh 80 pounds. I’m exhausted, and for the first time in a while I can go to bed without my phone, or alcohol. There is a huge smile on my face right now which I couldn’t remove if I tried. When I wake up nobody is going to tell me what to do. The sun never sets during the Alaskan summer, so I can go to bed whenever. I started a fire once I set up my tent and made hot water, which I am clutching to my chest right now to keep me warm. I can’t wait for tomorrow.

Chapter II

July 16th, 2020 Yesterday was a year ago. Today went by so quickly and took so long. Let me catch you up [...] Read the full story in PUB’s online magazine at sites.google.com/sch.org/pub Pub