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| Alex McKechnie from Yt Exurb2a |
"Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way." — That’s how Anna Karenina begins, and it’s a line Alex McKechnie has always loved. It wasn’t just about families; it was about life. Happiness feels simple when you're in it, but when you’re in a bad place, the reasons for your sadness feel utterly unique. Like no one else in history has ever been sad in quite this way. And sometimes, it gets weird enough that you're convinced you’ll never be able to explain it to anyone else.
Well, here’s his attempt to explain it.
About ten years ago, Alex experienced one of those “I’m sad, but I don’t know why” moments. He’s since learned that everyone gets them. But at 21, he believed he was unique. He had just finished reading a pile of books that would shape his twenties: Margaret Atwood, Arthur C. Clarke, Gabriel Garcia Marquez—authors he still loves. But reading them left him with the bitter realization that he wasn’t going to write like them. They were the greats. He was just a scruffy dweeb, making videos and struggling to find his place in the world.
The problem was, Alex didn’t want to do anything else. The dream of writing or creating something great, something perfect, that would prove he wasn’t entirely useless—that was all he’d ever wanted. And for the first time, he was realizing how unlikely that was. He wasn’t just bad at it; he sucked at it.
Around that time, a housemate noticed how restless he was and showed him the film Into the Wild, a biopic about Christopher McCandless, who left society behind to live in the wilderness. He died tragically, alone in Alaska. But the part everyone seems to remember from the movie is the wilderness part. Naturally, being 21 and dramatic, Alex decided he’d go be alone in nature, too. Surely that would fix him.
A few months later, he blew his remaining student loan on a plane ticket to New Zealand, because New Zealand seemed “wildernessy.” He spent about a year volunteering on organic farms in the South Island, through a program called WWOOF (Worldwide Opportunities on Organic Farms). Everyone was lovely... except the first farm, run by a British couple who despised each other with such passion it was like performance art.
They had moved to the middle of nowhere to escape their problems and discovered, once they arrived, that their problems had come along for the ride. Alex quickly learned that nature doesn’t magically solve anything. They had hoped the wilderness would make them happy, but they only brought their misery with them. He watched in horror as they fought, bickered, and ranted about the collapse of society. They even yelled at him for “treating the animals too nicely.”
Eventually, Alex decided he’d had enough. On his last day there, he planted their flower bulbs in the shape of the worst words he could think of and got out of there as fast as he could.
Luckily, they had given him the number of a woman who owned a yurt in the middle of nowhere, so he spent weeks reading and writing there. It was perfect—for a while. But then the novelty wore off, and he realized he was slowly going mad. Whatever he had been searching for wasn’t out there in the wilderness. And worse, he missed people.
Ironically, he’d gotten close to the yurt’s owner, a woman who was around his mum’s age. They’d go for walks, and she’d kindly listen to his 21-year-old musings without teasing him for being an idiot, which he very much was. When he told her about his crisis—how he’d wanted to write something great and felt like he never would—she said, “You’ll work this out, but it’s going to take time, and you have to be okay with that.”
Of course, Alex wasn’t okay with that. He ignored her advice because, obviously, she was wrong. What could she know? She was just twice his age.
He later found a book about the Appalachian Trail, a hiking route in the U.S., and decided that was the answer. It would be like living in the wilderness, but with more exercise. Naturally, he packed up and left the yurt.
The day he left, his landlady drove him to the bus stop. They were both quiet, and when they hugged goodbye, he realized she was crying. And he was, too, if he was honest. He’d made a friend out there. Ironically, she had been the best part of his attempt to “be alone.”
The Appalachian Trail Plan
Alex carried that wilderness fantasy with him for a decade. Then, ten years later, he found himself in another crisis. He had just finished a big video project for his YouTube channel—a project he had become completely obsessed with. The process of making it had torn him apart, and when it was done, he was finished, too. He couldn’t make another video. He couldn’t even enjoy creating anymore. He felt like he’d lost the one thing in life that made sense to him.
So, what did he decide to do? That’s right, he returned to his old obsession. He’d walk the Appalachian Trail.
Walking Through the Fog (Literally and Figuratively)
Walking the Appalachian Trail wasn’t the romantic cure for his malaise that he’d hoped it would be. He got lost more than once, got rained on, got blisters, and spent many nights in his tent wondering what the hell he was doing out there.
And yet, there were moments of joy. Like the time a stranger brought him a beer at a campsite. Or the moments of clarity that came from long days of walking alone with nothing but his thoughts for company.
After a while, Alex realized something. His obsession with creating something “great” had been the problem all along. He’d put so much pressure on himself to produce something perfect, thinking it would fix everything wrong with him, that he’d forgotten how to enjoy the process. Creating was supposed to be fun. It wasn’t supposed to be some mountain to conquer.
The trail reminded him of that. He was never going to be perfect, and that was okay. What mattered was that he kept walking—both in life and on the trail.
Coming Home to Himself
Eventually, Alex came off the trail, not because he’d finished it (he hadn’t), but because he realized he didn’t need to. The wilderness fantasy had served its purpose. He didn’t need to be out there looking for answers. He already had them—they were in the people he cared about and the life he’d built for himself.
He’ll never forget the friends he made along the way. And he still thinks about his landlady back in New Zealand from time to time. She was right, of course. The answers come with time, and you have to be okay with that.
He’s learning, slowly but surely, to be okay with that.
So, if you’re feeling lost or stuck, by all means, go wander in the woods. There’s beauty to be found out there, and the adventures you’ll have will be incredible. But don’t forget—the real adventures, the real magic, happens when we share it with others.
After all, as Christopher McCandless scrawled in his copy of Doctor Zhivago just before his life ended: “Happiness is only real when shared.”
Hopefully, you enjoyed this long-winded journey through Alex McKechnie’s mind. Thanks for sticking around.
