
For those who don't know me, my name's Mark Hewitt, I'm 28, and I've lived all my life till this journey in Bedford, in the county of Bedfordshire, England. My dad's from Belfast in Northern Ireland, my mum's from Barnsley in Yorkshire. I have a brother and a sister, both younger than me.
In 2007 I graduated from Northampton University with a degree in Psychology and History of Art. I had no idea whatsoever what I wanted to do after graduation, except the guiding principles "be slightly less poor if at all possible" and "no more jobs with a special hat", and a vague idea that I'd like to be a therapist eventually.
Around the start of December, however, two things happened. First, I lost a good friend to throat cancer. Then, a couple of weeks later, I began to develop a lump in my throat. It turned out to be harmless and went away by itself, but during those three weeks I went through every stage of preparation for a considerably shorter life, because there was really no other way I could deal with the uncertainty. Brought face to face with death, I found a remarkable transformation as I planned out what I would do with my remaining months or years - visit all my relatives, party, travel round the world, have adventures...All other fears paled into insignificance as the Big One became a real and imminent threat, and without fear to hold me back all of life seemed different.
Well, with a return to normal health and all the distractions of Christmas that drive faded away amazingly quickly, and I was back to normal life and no big plans by the New Year. But from the middle of January, as time came to prepare for what I would do after graduation, I began to ask again "Why not?" My life had been comfortable, safe, not marked by particular highs or lows...I'd lived most of my excesses and wild adventures vicariously through books and films. I'd only left the country once, and since I moved into my own place 7 years previously I had yet to organise a holiday even as far as the coast. Meanwhile my years of pleb jobs had left me with a large DVD and video collection, some good bits of hardware and kitchenware and a motorbike that just about ran, but no particularly memorable memories.
So I'm doing what I planned. First, I sold everything I could, then I gave away everything that was left. I kept only my books, a shoebox full of very personal (and small) items, and what I could carry with me in a 65 liter rucksack and a shoulder bag. I got a passport (my first in my own name), 13 vaccination injections, travel and camping kit, and a plane ticket to Hamilton, Ontario, mostly on a whim. I made no other plans, except that I was going to head to the west coast first, see Burning Man in August, and visit friends in Houston when I got to that area.
Since then life has been...extraordinary. I've hitch-hiked across two thirds of Canada, appeared in a rodeo, seen a killer whale from a tiny fishing boat, bought my first kilt (in Seattle), camped in the Black Rock Desert with 75,000 people for a week, spent 48 hours straight on a Greyhound bus, seen Bob Dylan perform, toured NASA, eaten alligator in New Orleans, celebrated Thanksgiving on a ranch, studied yoga in Vegas, and now I'm living in San Francisco, 5,300 miles from the place I once called home. And I've barely started.
For those who do know me, this is a gathering point for information on where I am and what I'm doing, and saves me many hours of phone calls/email/texting and explanation, which can be used for saying more vital things like "I love you" or "I miss you" or "I'm lost in a South American backwater and a huge man with a knife took my trousers". For those who don't know me, this might be an interesting story, or pass a few minutes of boredom. Or (so I hope) it might be an inspiration to somebody else who's always wanted to live a bit more extraordinarily, and needed a little push.
"The journey of a thousand miles begins beneath one's feet"
Lao Tzu (translation by Michael Moncur)