1992年4月，一個(gè)名叫克里斯 #8226; 麥克肯多斯的年輕男子一路搭便車到阿拉斯加，獨(dú)自步入麥金萊山北邊的曠野。他出身于美國(guó)東岸的一個(gè)富裕家庭，以優(yōu)異的成績(jī)畢業(yè)于美國(guó)一所私立名校，是一個(gè)有著狂熱夢(mèng)想的年輕人，一直想摒棄現(xiàn)代社會(huì)的物質(zhì)生活，回歸大自然的曠野之中。他從家鄉(xiāng)出發(fā)，先是改名換姓，把銀行帳戶中的兩萬(wàn)多美元捐給慈善機(jī)構(gòu)，然后放棄了車子，還把身上的現(xiàn)金全都燒掉。他一路上認(rèn)識(shí)各種不同的人，經(jīng)歷了許多不同的事，最后在阿拉斯加的一片叢林里因誤食野洋芋種籽而身亡……

自然的曠野孕育著美，里面沒(méi)有污穢的政治、嗜血的文明，是新文明的烏托邦，誘惑著每個(gè)懷抱理想的人。我們都曾有過(guò)流浪的夢(mèng)想，只是多數(shù)的人長(zhǎng)大以后學(xué)會(huì)了謹(jǐn)慎地面對(duì)現(xiàn)實(shí)生活，卻有另一些形體上或精神上的游民，放不下自己的固執(zhí)，在心靈的邊緣持續(xù)那個(gè)唯美的夢(mèng)。

感謝Atao的推薦，讓我能更早一點(diǎn)看到Into the Wild這部電影，讀到克里斯的故事。在按下play鍵的那刻起，心便注定了又一場(chǎng)久違的心潮澎湃的飛翔。低吟的音樂(lè)，空曠的荒野，雪白的大地，克里斯的純真率直，時(shí)而孩子氣般的固執(zhí)，他逃離社會(huì)和物質(zhì)束縛的渴望，對(duì)曠野和自由的無(wú)比向往，以及在生命彌留之際留下的淚，都讓我心痛。我知道它觸及了我的心最柔軟的那個(gè)地方，喚醒了我曾擁有的同樣唯美的夢(mèng)。

想說(shuō)，渴望漂泊的人，也許也是最渴望安定的人，一如我。

本章節(jié)選自Into the Wild一

書第六章。

——Lavender

On January 4， 1993， this writer received an unusual letter， penned in a shaky， 2)anachronistic script that suggested an elderly author. “To Whom It May Concern，” the letter began.

I would like to get a copy of the magazine that carried the story of the young man (Alex McCandless) dying in Alaska. I would like to write the one that investigated the incident. I drove him from Salton City Calif.... in March 1992 ... to 3)Grand Junction Colorado... I left Alex there to hitch-hike to 4)S.D. He said he would keep in touch.

If you have a copy of that magazine please send me the cost of that magazine…

I understand he was hurt. If so I would like to know how he was injured， for he always carried enough rice in his backpack + he had arctic clothes + plenty of money.

sincerely， ronald A. franzThe magazine that Franz requested was the January 1993 issue of 5)Outside， which featured a cover story about the death of Chris McCandless. His letter had been addressed to the offices of Outside in Chicago; because I had written the McCandless piece， it was forwarded to me.

McCandless made an indelible impression on a number of people during the course of his 6)hegira， most of whom spent only a few days in his company， a week or two at most. Nobody， howshy;ever， was affected more powerfully by his or her brief contact with the boy than Ronald Franz， who was eighty years old when their paths intersected in January 1992.

After McCandless bid farewell to 7)Jan Burres at the Salton City Post Office， he hiked into the desert and set up camp in a 8)brake of 9)creosote at the edge of Anza-Borrego Desert State Park. When he needed provisions， he would hitch or walk the four miles into town， where he bought rice and filled his plastic water 10)jug at the market-liquor store-post office. One Thursday in mid-January， McCandless was hitching back out to the 11)bajada after filling his jug when an old man， name of Ronald Franz， stopped to give him a ride.

“Where’s your camp?” Franz inquired.

“Out past Oh-My-God Hot Springs，” McCandless replied.

“I’ve lived in these parts six years now， and I’ve never heard of any place goes by that name. Show me how to get there.”

They drove for a few minutes down the Borrego-Salton Seashy;way， and then McCandless told him to turn left into the desert， where a rough 4-x-4 track twisted down a narrow 12)wash. After a mile or so they arrived at a bizarre encampment， where some two hundred people had gathered to spend the winter. At the center of the camp， water from a 13)geothermal well had been piped into a pair of shallow， steaming pools lined with rocks and shaded by palm trees: Oh-My-God Hot Springs. McCandless， however， wasn’t living right at the springs; he was camped by himself another half mile out on the bajada. Franz drove McCandless the rest of the way， chatted with him there for a while， and then returned to town， where he lived alone， rent free， in reshy;turn for managing a 14)ramshackle apartment building.

Franz， a devout Christian， had spent most of his adult life in the army， stationed in Shanghai and

15)Okinawa. On New Year’s Eve 1957， while he was overseas， his wife and only child were killed by a drunk driver in an automobile accident. Franz started hitting the whiskey， hard. Six months later he managed to pull himself together and quit drinking， 16)cold turkey， but he never really got over the loss. To salve his loneliness in the years after the accident， he started unshy;officially “adopting” indigent Okinawan boys and girls. When Franz met McCandless， his long-17)dormant paternal imshy;pulses were kindled anew. He couldn’t get the young man out of his mind. The boy had said his name was Alex—he’d declined to give a surname—and that he came from West Virginia. He was polite， friendly， 18)well-groomed.

Over the next few weeks McCandless and Franz spent a lot of time together. The younger man would regularly hitch into Salton City to do his laundry and barbecue steaks at Franz’s apartment. He confided that he was 19)biding his time until spring， when he intended to go to Alaska and embark on an “ultimate adshy;venture.” Not infrequently during their visits， Franz recalls， McCandless’s face would darken with anger and he’d 20)fulminate about his parents or politicians or the 21)enshy;demic idiocy of mainstream American life. Worried about alienshy;ating the boy， Franz said little

during such outbursts and let him 22)rant.

One day in early February， McCandless announced that he was splitting for 23)San Diego to earn more money for his Alaska trip.

“You don’t need to go to San Diego，” Franz protested. “I’ll give you money if you need some.”

“No. You don’t get it. I’m going to San Diego. And I’m leaving on Monday.”

“OK. I’ll drive you there.”

“Don’t be ridiculous，” McCandless scoffed.

“I need to go anyway，” Franz lied， “to pick up some leather supshy;plies.”

McCandless 24)relented. He struck his camp， stored most of his belongings in Franz’s apartment—the boy didn’t want to 25)schlepp his sleeping bag or backpack around the city—and then rode with the old man across the mountains to the coast. It was rainshy;ing when Franz dropped McCandless at the San Diego watershy;front. “It was a very hard thing for me to do，” Franz says. “I was sad to be leaving him.”

A week later Franz’s phone rang. “When I heard his voice， it was like sunshine after a month of rain.”

“Will you come pick me up?” McCandless asked.

“Yes. Where in Seattle are you?”

“Ron，” McCandless laughed， “I’m not in Seattle. I’m in Califorshy;nia， just up the road from you， in 26)Coachella.” Unable to find work in the rainy Northwest， McCandless had hopped a series of freight trains back to the desert. As soon as he hung up the phone， Franz rushed off to pick McCandless up. “We went to a Sizzler， where I filled him up with steak and lobshy;ster，” Franz recalls， “and then we drove back to Salton City.” McCandless said that he would be staying only a day， just long enough to wash his clothes and load his backpack. He’d heard from 27)Wayne Westerberg that a job was waiting for him at the grain elevator in 28)Carthage， and he was eager to get there. Franz offered to take McCandshy;less to Grand Junction， Colorado， which was the farthest he could drive without missing an appointment in Salton City the following Monday. To Franz’s surprise and great relief， McCandshy;less accepted the offer without argument.

Thursday at daybreak they drove out of Salton City in Franz’s truck. Franz reports that it was a pleasant， if hurried trip. “Someshy;times we’d drive for hours without saying a word，” he recalls. “Even when he was sleeping， I was happy just knowing he was there.” On March 14， Franz left McCandless on the shoulder of Intershy;state 70 outside Grand Junction and returned to southern Calishy;fornia. McCandless was thrilled to be on his way north， and he was relieved as well—relieved that he had again evaded the 29)imshy;pending threat of human intimacy， of friendship， and all the messy emotional baggage that comes with it.

Painlessly， that is， from McCandless’s perspective—although not from the old man’s. Franz had been livshy;ing a solitary existence for many years. He had no family and few friends. A disciplined， self-reliant man， he got along remarkably well despite his age and solitude. When McCandless came into his world， however， the boy undermined the old man’s 30)meticushy;lously constructed defenses. Franz 31)relished being with McCandless， but their burgeoning friendship also reminded him how lonely he’d been. The boy unmasked the gaping void in Franz’s life even as he helped fill it. When Mc-Candless departed as sudshy;denly as he’d arrived， Franz found himself deeply and unexpectshy;edly hurt.

1993年1月4日，我接到一封不尋常的來(lái)信，顫抖、老式的筆跡顯示寫這封信的是個(gè)老人。信的開(kāi)頭是：“敬啟者”。

我想要那期報(bào)道那個(gè)死于阿拉斯加的年輕人（亞歷克斯 #8226; 麥克肯多斯）的雜志。我要寫信給調(diào)查這起事件的人。1992年3月……我由加州沙爾頓市駕車送他到大章克申郡，在那里放他下來(lái)搭便車到南達(dá)科他州。他說(shuō)會(huì)和我保持聯(lián)系。

如果你有該期雜志，請(qǐng)把雜志和帳單寄給我……

我知道他受了傷，不過(guò)我想知道他怎么受傷的，因?yàn)樗嘲锟偸菐Я俗銐虻拿祝宜灿袠O區(qū)所需的衣服和不少錢。

羅納德 #8226; A #8226; 弗朗茲敬上。

羅納德索取的雜志是《戶外》雜志1993年1月號(hào)，其封面故事報(bào)道了克里斯 #8226; 麥克肯多斯之死。他的信寄到了《戶外》雜志在芝加哥的辦公室。因?yàn)槟瞧恼碌淖髡呤俏遥谑切偶娃D(zhuǎn)到我這里來(lái)了。

在麥克肯多斯的“逃避”之旅過(guò)程中，很多人都對(duì)他印象深刻，盡管其中大多數(shù)人只和他共處了幾天，最多一兩周而已。然而在和這孩子的短暫相處期間，最深受震撼的是羅納德 #8226; 弗朗茲。他倆的人生軌道交會(huì)于1992年1月，當(dāng)時(shí)羅納德80歲了。

在沙爾頓市郵局向珍 #8226; 伯爾斯道別之后，麥克肯多斯步行進(jìn)入沙漠，在安薩玻里哥沙漠州立公園邊緣的蒺藜灌木叢中扎營(yíng)。當(dāng)他需要補(bǔ)給品時(shí)，就搭便車或步行4英里路到城里去，在既是市場(chǎng)，又是酒鋪，還兼郵局的店里買米，并把塑膠水罐裝滿水。1月中的某個(gè)周四，麥克肯多斯把水罐裝滿后準(zhǔn)備搭便車回到營(yíng)地所在的斜坡，一個(gè)名叫羅納德 #8226; 弗朗茲的老人停車載了他一程。

“你的營(yíng)地在哪里？”弗朗茲問(wèn)。

“就在‘哦我的天啊熱情溫泉’過(guò)去那頭。”麥克肯多斯答道。

“我在這里住了六年，從來(lái)沒(méi)聽(tīng)過(guò)叫這名字的地方，告訴我怎么走?！?/p>

他們沿著玻里哥—沙爾頓海道開(kāi)了幾分鐘，麥克肯多斯告訴他左轉(zhuǎn)進(jìn)入沙漠中，沿著崎嶇的越野車軌跡，駛向狹窄的干河床。行駛了約1英里之后，他們抵達(dá)一個(gè)奇特的營(yíng)地，大約有200人聚居在那里過(guò)冬。在營(yíng)地中心，由地?zé)崴虺鰜?lái)的水，流到兩個(gè)熱氣騰騰的淺池中，池畔圍著石頭，還有棕櫚樹(shù)遮蔭。這就是“哦我的天啊熱情溫泉”。然而，麥克肯多斯并不住在泉水旁；他獨(dú)自一人在離此半英里的斜坡上扎營(yíng)。弗朗茲送他繼續(xù)前行，并在那里和他閑聊了一會(huì)兒才回到城里。他獨(dú)自住在城內(nèi)，管理一棟破舊失修的公寓，報(bào)酬就是免費(fèi)住宿。

弗朗茲是虔誠(chéng)的基督徒，成年后大部分時(shí)間都在軍旅中，在上海和沖繩駐扎過(guò)。在他被派駐海外期間，1957年除夕，他的妻子和獨(dú)子在一起交通事故中被一名醉酒司機(jī)駕車撞死。這次的打擊使得弗朗茲開(kāi)始酗酒。6個(gè)月后，他設(shè)法振作精神，戒了酒，驟然徹底戒掉，但他一直沒(méi)有真正從喪親之痛中恢復(fù)過(guò)來(lái)。在事故發(fā)生后的日子里，為了緩解自己的孤單，他開(kāi)始非正式地收養(yǎng)貧窮的沖繩小孩。弗朗茲遇到麥克肯多斯時(shí)，他長(zhǎng)久潛伏的父愛(ài)本能又重新燃起。他無(wú)法忘懷這個(gè)年輕人。這個(gè)男孩拒絕說(shuō)出自己的姓，只說(shuō)他名叫亞歷克斯，來(lái)自西維吉尼亞；他和善有禮，穿戴齊整。

接下來(lái)幾周，麥克肯多斯和弗朗茲共度了許多時(shí)光。年輕人定時(shí)搭便車到沙爾頓市弗朗茲的公寓洗衣烤肉。他表示他在這里只是暫時(shí)停留，等到春天他就要前往阿拉斯加，開(kāi)始“終極探險(xiǎn)”。弗朗茲記得，麥克肯多斯來(lái)訪時(shí)，經(jīng)常會(huì)因?yàn)閼嵟樕龊冢?yán)詞批評(píng)父母、政客或美國(guó)本土主流生活的愚蠢。弗朗茲擔(dān)心這孩子會(huì)感覺(jué)被孤立，因此在這種情況下總不多說(shuō)話，讓他盡情咆哮。

二月初的某一天，麥克肯多斯宣布他要前往圣地亞哥，賺更多的錢，為他的阿拉斯加之行做準(zhǔn)備。

“你不需要去圣地亞哥，”弗朗茲反對(duì)說(shuō)，“如果你缺錢，我可以給你?！?/p>

“不，你不懂，我要去圣地亞哥，而且我星期一就走?！?/p>

“好，我送你去。”

“別鬧了?！?麥克肯多斯嘲笑他。

“反正我本來(lái)也要去，”弗朗茲說(shuō)謊道，“去買一點(diǎn)皮材?！?/p>

麥克肯多斯不再那么堅(jiān)持，他撤了營(yíng)，把大部分的家當(dāng)存在弗朗茲的公寓里——他不想帶著睡袋或背包在城里到處走——接著他搭車和老人越過(guò)山嶺，前往海邊。弗朗茲把麥克肯多斯載到圣地亞哥港口附近放下他時(shí)，正下著雨。弗朗茲說(shuō)：“這么做真難，我真舍不得離開(kāi)他?！?/p>

一周之后，弗朗茲的電話鈴響了。“當(dāng)我聽(tīng)到他的聲音時(shí)，仿佛下了一個(gè)月的雨后重見(jiàn)陽(yáng)光的感覺(jué)?！?/p>

“你可不可以來(lái)接我？”麥克肯多斯問(wèn)道。

“好，你在西雅圖的哪里？”

麥克肯多斯笑著說(shuō)：“羅，我不在西雅圖，我在加州，就在離你不遠(yuǎn)的科切拉市?！丙溈丝隙嗨乖诙嘤甑奈鞅辈空也坏焦ぷ?，于是跳上了幾列貨運(yùn)車回到沙漠。弗朗茲一掛上電話，就十萬(wàn)火急地去接他?！拔覀?nèi)r(shí)時(shí)樂(lè)餐廳，讓他大吃了一頓牛排和龍蝦，”弗朗茲回憶道，“接著我們駛回沙爾頓市。”麥克肯多斯說(shuō)他只停留一天，只夠他換洗衣服，整理行囊。他已經(jīng)接到韋恩 #8226; 威斯伯格的消息，知道在迦太基市的谷倉(cāng)有工作等著他，他很急著要去。弗朗茲提議要送麥克肯多斯到科羅拉多州大章克申，他之前約了人下周一要在沙爾頓市見(jiàn)面，所以那是他能送麥克肯多斯最遠(yuǎn)而不至于失約的地點(diǎn)。令弗朗茲既驚訝又欣慰的是，麥克肯多斯接受了他的安排，并無(wú)異議。

星期四黎明時(shí)分，他們開(kāi)著弗朗茲的卡車駛離沙爾頓市。弗朗茲說(shuō)，雖然行程很趕，但卻是段愉快的旅程?！坝袝r(shí)候我們一連開(kāi)好幾小時(shí)，一言不發(fā)?！彼叵氲溃凹词顾谒X(jué)，只要知道他在身邊，我就覺(jué)得很高興。”3月14日，弗朗茲把麥克肯多斯留在大章克申外70號(hào)州際公路的路邊，回到南加州。麥克肯多斯很興奮自己能夠繼續(xù)北上，同時(shí)也覺(jué)得松了一口氣——因?yàn)樗忠淮伪荛_(kāi)了人與人之間的親密和友情帶來(lái)的脅迫感，以及隨之而來(lái)的所有麻煩的情感包袱。

毫無(wú)痛苦，這是麥克肯多斯的想法，然而這位老人的心情卻不同。弗朗茲多年來(lái)一直都孤單度日，既沒(méi)有家人，也很少朋友。他是個(gè)有紀(jì)律又獨(dú)立的人，雖然年事已高，而且孤獨(dú)，但卻過(guò)得很好。然而麥克肯多斯闖入他的世界后，破壞了老人小心翼翼建造起來(lái)的防衛(wèi)。弗朗茲喜歡和麥克肯多斯在一起，他們之間逐漸產(chǎn)生的友誼，卻也提醒了他自己是多么的孤單。這個(gè)孩子揭開(kāi)了弗朗茲生命中的空虛，盡管也幫忙填補(bǔ)了一部分。麥克肯多斯突然離去，如同他來(lái)時(shí)一樣突然，叫弗朗茲出乎意料地難過(guò)。