This is a story of a young man, a folk-music playing flower-child of the late sixties who hitch-hikes across Canada at the time of Woodstock with his young lady love. He is the quintessential Flower Child, the precursor of the hippies of the early 70s. As all good stories go, love is lost and the young man finds himself again wandering across Canada and north-western USA in search of healing for his broken heart. In a way, this is a mythological tale in a modern setting, with the hero wandering through darkness, fighting the forces of evil, battling the complexes of life and monsters of archetypal proportions, a story that is told over and over again in our small personal dramas in our ordinary lives. The characters of this tale are real, just the names have been changed. Yet, in spite of that, no writer can recreate a character in a story, even one that is objectively real, without investing a part of who he or she is, as well as the lived experience the author has of the others. As a result, one could easily say with some validity that besides being real people, all the characters in this story, as in all stories, are simply a collection of inner voices that live within each of us, and the outer voices that surround us.