The Tour Guide

"The Trail of Happiness" sounded harmless enough, right? By the way, my name’s Jake, and if you like stories that sound too wild to be true, stick with me until the end. It’s July 2012, and my friends and I are bored out of our skulls. You know those summer days when you’re just itching for something new? That’s when I stumbled upon a Facebook post about this place called “The Trail of Happiness” — supposedly a magical hiking trail deep in some enormous, unexplored forest. Sounded like the perfect excuse for a camping trip, so I tagged everyone. You see, every summer, we’d make these drunk plans to go camping but never actually did it. This time, I wasn’t taking no for an answer.

Somehow, I convinced everyone to take five days off work for this “epic adventure.” We met up at my place, loaded our stuff into a rented van, and hit the road. Honestly, I don’t even remember who rented the van, but it wasn’t me, so whatever. To give you the cast:

Me: Twenty-nine, IT guy. I fix my friends’ computers in exchange for pizza and beer. I’d just gotten out of a relationship but wasn’t feeling sorry for myself. I thought this camping trip would be a good reset.

Sarah: Twenty-nine, waitress, hilarious. She’s always dating someone new and swears each one is "the one." She posts about her “soulmates” constantly. It’s a miracle she wasn’t dating someone when we left for the trip.

George: Thirty-one, bodybuilder. He once met Snooki at a gym and now calls himself a "celebrity trainer." He’s huge, loves his protein shakes, and even brought a blender on this trip. Yep, a blender for a camping trip.

Arnold: Twenty-eight, architect. Always fun to be around but had this thing about comparing his life to everyone else’s. He’d get weird when he drank, going on about how he wasn’t as successful as he should be and giving you backhanded compliments like, “Wow, it’s so cool you’re okay with not being ambitious.”

Barb: Thirty-two, Sweetest human alive, and a registered nurse. She has a boyfriend none of us have ever met. She’s always gushing about how amazing he is, but we’ve never even seen a picture. We let it go because Barb is Barb.

Lauren: Twenty-seven, brilliant, and argumentative. She could debate you about anything, anytime, anywhere. She’s drop-dead gorgeous, but we all agreed early on—no hooking up in the group. It would mess with the dodgeball team vibes. Oh yeah, we all met playing dodgeball. Random team sign-up, and now here we are.

So, we’re cruising down the highway, blasting a playlist with everything from Drake to John Denver (weird mix, I know), getting buzzed on road trip beers, and talking about how this camping trip was going to be “life-changing.” After what felt like forever, we reached the forest. There it was—this giant wooden sign that read “The Trail of Happiness” in shiny gold letters. I got this weird mix of excitement and dread. But, whatever. Adventure time, right?

George stopped the van at the sign, but I shouted, “Keep going, man! We didn’t drive all this way to stop at a sign!” We laughed, and he drove us deeper into the woods. It was noon, and we hadn’t seen a soul. Creepy, but exciting. That is, until the van suddenly hit something and came to a screeching halt.

We all went flying. George cursed and slammed on the brakes. “What the hell did we hit?” I jumped out of the van to check, but... nothing. No tree, no rock, no animal—just the van stopped dead in the middle of the road. I took a few steps forward to investigate when BAM—my face smacked right into thin air. I hit an invisible wall. I couldn’t believe it, but when I reached out, my hand met nothing but smooth, solid air. We were trapped.

We all scrambled out of the van, touching the invisible barrier, pushing it, yelling into the empty forest for help. No one answered. And then, as if things couldn’t get weirder, we turned around, and the van was gone. Vanished. All our stuff was still lying on the ground, but the van was nowhere to be seen. Just... poof.

Everyone freaked out. Sarah started yelling at me, “Jake, what the hell kind of trip is this? You brought us to a haunted forest?” Like I knew! Arnold, always the one to suggest a “rational” plan, said, “Let’s just walk and see if we can find someone.” The forest was massive, but we didn’t have any better ideas, so we grabbed our bags and started walking.

Hours passed. My feet were killing me, and I was starting to regret everything when we saw him: a man standing in the middle of the trail. He looked like a cartoon version of a tour guide—khaki shorts, boots, wide-brimmed hat, mustache—the whole nine yards. He was just standing there, watching us like he’d been waiting all along.

We rushed up to him, desperate for answers. “We’re lost, and there’s some kind of force field,” I said, trying not to sound like a lunatic. He smiled, totally unfazed, and said, “You’ve found me. I’m the tour guide. Call me Mr. Guide.”

Okay, weird, but at least we weren’t alone anymore. Arnold asked him, “Where are we supposed to go?” Mr. Guide just smiled cryptically. “I can’t tell you that,” he said. “But follow me, and I’ll get you where you need to go.” That didn’t sit well with me or anyone else, but we had no other option. We followed him.

By the time the sun set, he told us to set up camp. We awkwardly put up our tents, sharing nervous glances. This dude was freaking us out, but we couldn’t exactly walk off into the dark forest alone. George, Lauren, and I whispered to each other about ditching Mr. Guide first thing in the morning.

When we woke up, the guy was already cooking breakfast—eggs and bacon. Where did the food come from? No clue. We ate in silence, and then I told him we were going to head out on our own. He just nodded and said, “I understand. But before you go, remember this: I created this forest. Every tree, every leaf, every animal—it’s all mine.”

We laughed nervously and left. Four hours later, we were completely lost, and the creepy feeling was starting to hit full force. The forest felt alive. Then, out of nowhere, a gigantic bear appeared—bigger than anything I’d ever seen. We screamed and ran like hell, climbing up the nearest tree as fast as we could. After what felt like hours, the bear wandered off, but we were shaken.

Meanwhile, Arnold, Barb, and Sarah had stayed with Mr. Guide. They were wary of him but figured sticking with the guy who “created the forest” was a safer bet than wandering off. At one point, a wild boar charged at them. Mr. Guide didn’t flinch—he just pulled out this strange remote and pressed a button. A cage dropped from the sky, trapping the boar instantly. He calmly started butchering the boar, like it was just another day.

Arnold lost it. “You’ve got booby traps out here?! And a remote control for wild animals?! What is this place?” But that wasn’t what really set him off. Mr. Guide pulled out a lighter from his pocket and used it to start a fire. Arnold’s face turned red. “You’ve had a lighter this whole time?! We’ve been rubbing sticks together like cavemen!” Mr. Guide just smiled, “Patience builds character.”

It was at that moment that Arnold realized his whole life he’d been trying to control everything. This forest—this crazy, impossible situation—was forcing him to let go. Maybe not having control wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

As for me, after we eventually found our way back to Mr. Guide, I had a similar realization. I didn’t have to be the guy with all the answers, leading my friends into chaos and pretending I knew what I was doing. Sometimes, it’s okay to admit you’re lost—literally and figuratively.

Sarah? For the first time in forever, she stopped thinking about her next relationship and started focusing on herself. She realized she didn’t need a guy to make her happy.

Barb became the hero of the group. She wasn’t just “the girl with the mysterious boyfriend” anymore. She stepped up when things got tough. We saw a new side of her—a strong, independent side.

Lauren? She learned that not everything needed to be debated. Some things you just have to accept, even if they make no sense. Like invisible force fields and disappearing vans.

And George? He realized that his muscles wouldn’t solve every problem. You can’t punch a bear or bench press your way out of a supernatural forest. Sometimes, you just have to rely on the people around you.

By the time we reached the end of the trail, Mr. Guide led us to a clearing. There, nestled in the trees, were these beautiful little cabins. He pointed to them and said, “These are for those who make it through the trail. They’re yours if you want them.” He had built homes for us—homes for anyone who survived this bizarre journey. We were speechless. Was this some kind of reward for facing our fears, conquering the forest, and accepting that we weren’t in control of everything? I looked at the cabins—simple, cozy, and safe. They felt like more than just houses. They were a symbol of the lessons we’d learned out there, the growth we didn’t even realize we’d needed.

We spent that night together in one of the cabins, sitting around a fire, drinking beers, and laughing at the insanity of it all. Somehow, everything that had freaked us out just hours before seemed like a distant, hilarious memory. We survived bears, invisible walls, and whatever Mr. Guide was, and in the end, we were stronger for it.

I caught myself smiling as I watched everyone—George flexing by the fire, Arnold laughing at one of Sarah’s stories, Lauren half-arguing with Barb about whether the boar incident was real or staged. It hit me then how much I loved these people, how much I needed this trip to remind me of what really mattered: adventure, friendship, and a bit of chaos to shake things up.

I realized I’d been searching for answers in all the wrong places—work, relationships, whatever—but the real joy was in moments like these. I felt... happy. Really happy. And as I leaned back, staring up at the stars through the open window of the cabin, I thought about how it all started with that ridiculous Facebook post.

Somehow, someway, I was glad I’d stumbled upon it. Mr. Guide, the disappearing van, the supernatural forest—it didn’t matter how bizarre it all was. In the end, we found exactly what we didn’t know we were looking for: our own little slice of happiness, waiting at the end of the trail.

Who would’ve thought?

When morning came, we packed our things, ready to leave the forest. The invisible force field that had once held us captive was gone. The moment we stepped out of the clearing, a woman appeared—calm, serene, and smiling. She handed each of us a set of keys and a brochure. “These are for your new homes,” she said, like it was the most normal thing in the world. The brochure had a map that showed us how to return to the cabins, our cabins.

We stood there in disbelief. “We live here now?” Arnold asked, laughing nervously.

The woman smiled again. “The trail isn’t about finding happiness. It’s about building it. These homes are for those who made it to the end.”

We looked around at each other, speechless, and then at the forest. This strange, magical place had somehow become our new home. We weren’t sure how to feel—excited, confused, maybe a little scared—but one thing was clear: we had changed. This wasn’t just the “Trail of Happiness.” It had been the trail of everything we needed—adventure, discovery, and a deeper understanding of ourselves.

As we walked away from the forest, I thought about the wild twists and turns that brought us here. It really was the Trail of Happiness. And for me, it was the trail of wholeness.