A couple of my friends and I decided to make Spring Break 2002 a low key event. No Mexico, no South Padre, no New Orleans, and most importantly, no jail.

We decided to hike around the Ozarks for a couple of days. We over-packed our "tough enough for Mount Everest" backpacks that were totally overdoing it for a couple of days in the backcountry and headed toward Arkansas. There, I met the inspiration for my story, the Wildman of Arkansas. He suddenly crept up upon us, said he was "the Wildman y'all been readin' about" and just as suddenly dissapeared into the forest.

He said he'd logged thousands of hours building trails and was sad that the forest was dying. Here we were, a couple kids that were just pissed off that everything was dead, talking to the Wildman, who was genuinely heartbroken that his beloved forest was dying. I could feel the sorrow in his voice as he spoke to us.