A day before a cold blast blew into my chunk of the world, I went to the Manzano Mountains to catch the last of the turning-crimson maples (I'll do anything to get inspired). Although a stream of cars filled the parking lot at the Fourth of July Campground, I cut off the trail and bushwhacked through run-off trails. Hardly anyone goes off the trails.

After weaving in and out of trees for about twenty minutes, I came across a four-foot high barbed wire fence. It was strung along the mountain as far as I could see to both sides. Then came the big question. The question that Americans must ask themselves on a consistent basis--Which side of the fence should I be on?

There are virtually limitless possibilities for fence dividing topics. Civilization vs. Wilderness. Conservative vs. Liberal. Test Ban Treaty vs. Bomb Fever. Yankees vs. Red Sox. Homo vs. Hetero. Gore vs. Bradley. Back Street Boys vs. N-Sync. Pro-Life vs. Pro-Choice. Non-Violent Protesting vs. Monkey Wrench Gang. Drug Legalization vs. Mandatory Sentencing. Bush vs. McCain. Get Up Early vs. Sleep In. Live Long and Prosper vs. Live Fast, Die Young.

The other side of the fence was pretty much like the side I was already on, except it was a different view of the same thing. I wouldn't have considered stopping if I wasn't forced to make a decision, but the fence demanded a choice. I had a great view from where I was at. Was it worth changing sides, possibly getting my clothes or skin caught on the way over? Would people look at me differently if I changed sides? Would people follow, or would I be on my own?

Nothing about the other side looked menacing, but it didn't look any more inviting than where I was. Should I switch sides just for the sake of switching sides? The chicken decided to cross the road. The billy goats dealt with a troll to get to the other side of the bridge. Precedents had been set for going to the other side, but I chose to not hop over the fence. I just kept trudging through the wilderness.

I was just a little ways off the trail, but even though there were enough 4 x 4 vehicles to make the area a human playground, I ran into no other people in the midst of trees. People traveled seven miles up a dirt road which began in a little town called Tajique to stay on well established trails. I was on my own.

But there's something about stepping off the trail. As I grow out of my youth, I keep hearing from friends and colleagues about what is supposed to happen. Get a good job, find yourself a compatible spouse, come up with a five year plan, carve out a trail and stick to it.

Every time I find a trail to walk along, something catches my eye in the distance. Without thinking, I blindly go clomping through shrubs and small trees trying to get to a certain spot. In my head, I tell myself 'I bet the world looks pretty nice from there. I just have to make it to that spot.' With a little endurance and a lot of scratches, I make it to my desired destination. Like I've won the lottery, or scored the winning touchdown, or written the Great American Novel. I'm so pleased with myself that I look around to survey my triumphant surroundings.

And then another place catches my eye. There's another spot, and it's not that far away. If I just bust through the bushes a little more, I could make it. So with the wounds still bleeding from striving to my current destination, I push myself on. The scene will be better from the new spot. I just know it. And I climb and dodge obstacles. Sometimes I slip and fall. Sometimes I step on a cactus. But I make it to the new spot, and life looks better from it.

As I peer around from my new view, it dawns on me that I can't see my old destination. I can't see the trail either. I'm in a glorious space, but no one else is there. I call out and my voice is powerful, billowy and free. But no one hears. I stare at the shrubs and rocks and trees around me. They are just as much of a barrier as the fence that hindered me, and I've crossed over to the other side without a conscious choice.

I just meant to go a little ways off the trail, but I didn't want to stop. Now I wonder if I should ever come back.

Chris Jungle has a search party out looking for him, but they fear the worst.