“Off the grid and out of sight.”
That’s what I told Ellie five years ago and we’ve largely succeeded.
I made a ton of dough in Internet marketing—enough to retire at twenty-eight. I sometimes made upwards of a quarter million a month, before the mailing business went south.
But unlike my friends, I kept a large chuck of it, now sitting in GIC’s earning enough interest for Ellie and I to live comfortably the rest of our lives.
Unfortunately, a lot of people had their hands out trying to beg from us, or fleece us, and we’re partly to blame for that.
We flaunted our wealth at first and made a lot of unwise investments, until Jayden, Ellie’s brother suggested we adopt a more modest lifestyle or spend the rest of our lives behind a gated wall with hired bodyguards.
Yeah, there's enough crazies out there to sober me up, so I toned down my vibe real quick.
Jayden’s a Paleontologist, whatever that is, and is always out hiking in the wilderness.
He found a tract of land north of Toronto and suggested we build a house there—told us we could use solar energy and wind power to run it and simply point our satellite dish at southern skies and get internet and telephone.
He was right. We’re totally self-sufficient while still remaining fully connected to civilization.
Whenever we get restless for a night out on the town, I either drive an hour and a half to the city, or rent a helicopter to pick us up and return us—well actually, I did that once but it felt too decadent, so we’ve been using the SUV ever since.
We don’t entertain much anymore, except for Jayden and his girlfriend Jan who will come up and spend the occasional weekend.
Actually, that’s how the second great change in our life began.
“C’mon, Adam—humor me. Join me on my hike.”
Jayden had all his gear and I had visions of him cliff climbing with ropes and rivets or spelunking in murky caves.
“Count me among the faint-hearted Bro—I’m not up to risking my neck today.”
He just grinned. “I love your image of me as the great outdoorsman, but I’m really just a science nerd and probably less athletic than you. Believe me, the worst you’ll suffer is a sunburn or a mosquito bite.”
“What about black flies?” I ask, hesitantly.
He rolled his eyes. “They’re not in season and there are none around here. So, what do you say?”
I could hardly say no, since both girls were sitting by the fireplace with smirks on their faces.
But once we got out walking, it wasn’t too bad at all.
It was a gorgeous May day—cool, but sunny and the air so clear, everything seemed cut out of glass.
I was enjoying the hike, and besides, the girls had packed us a huge picnic lunch and Ellie had thrown in a few cold beers.
Who could ask for anything more?
We hiked until we came to a cliff face and what looked to me like an old dry riverbed. Jayden was saying something about shale and sedimentary rock and to tell the truth, I had just tuned him out.
I hate doing that—and it bugs Ellie, but hell, what do I care about geology and whatever else he’s into? I’m thinking about lunch.
We sit down in some shade and Jay lights a fire for my sake.
Well, I figure if you’re out hiking in nature it adds to the ambience. Know what I mean?
I call him Jay when Ellie’s not around. Besides, I asked him and he’s good with that. I think it makes him feel cool and accepted—maybe even manly.
We’re sitting there and I’m enjoying the scenery, watching the white bones of the fire and inhaling wood smoke—you can’t do that in the city—and all of a sudden, Jay stands up.
“Whoa! Look at that.”
I’m regretting not having my rifle, but Ellie put her foot down—
“You’ll shoot yourself with that,” she said firmly.
I don’t think so, but regardless, a 22 rifle will not stop a bear.
Jay whistles sofly, and I relax. No one does that when there’s a bear.
“I can’t believe it.”
“Believe what Bro?” I ask nonchalantly, now that my breathing’s returned to normal.
“Those Ichnofossils,” he says, pointing to some clay, his eyes glazed over and full of wonder.
See what I mean about Jay?
I only get that way when I see a really nice bikini girl or one of the Leafs makes an awesome hockey move.
I don’t get all pumped up over a patch of clay.
He’s bending down examining some animal tracks. “This is amazing.”
I'm sure it is amazing in the halls of learning, but frankly, I’m hoping he’s not intending to spend all day.
He’s shaking his head in wonder as he traces his hands over the fossilized imprints.
“The tracks are red deer and elk and definitely Stone Age.”
I leave him to his rapt appraisal of dried mud and wander back a little further down the wash and spot a footprint.
“Hey Jay, take a look at this!”
He rushes over and stops dead in his tracks. “Oh my God! Do you what you just found?”
I’m shaking my head. Duh. Footprints. It’s not my first trip to the beach.
“There’s only been one other set of fossilized footprints found in Ontario," he tells me, "and that was way back in 1908. This is an unbelievably rare find.”
He’s down on his knees, lovingly tracing the imprints.
I’m wondering how long I can politely let him obsess when I notice the wind shift and glance up at the sky. It looks like thunderheads building in the west.
“Say Jay, are those clouds what I think they are?”
He glances up and looks worried.
“Yeah, they’re thunderheads, Adam. We better get back, but I’m going to make a record of this spot.”
He takes out his GPS locator and makes sure he’s got the site’s co-ordinates. “We’ll come back tomorrow and search further.”
Lots of fun, I muse.
How could fossil footprints affect my life in any way?
I had no idea how shallow my response was and how these ancient imprints frozen in rock would impact me and my life going forward.