Christopher Knight was just 20 years old when he walked away from society. For more than a quarter of a century, there was no news of him. He had worked for less than a year in Boston, Massachusetts, installing alarm systems in homes and cars. But then, he suddenly quit his job without notifying his boss. He did not even return the tools. He cashed his final pay cheque and left the city.
Knight did not tell anyone where he was going. "I had no one to tell," he admits. "I had no friends. No close relationships with colleagues." He drove along the American East Coast, ate lunch at fast-food restaurants and slept in cheap motels – "the cheapest I could find". Knight travelled for days until he reached central Florida. He drove along the main roads and watched the world glide by.
After that, Knight turned around and headed back north. He listened to the radio. The president was Ronald Reagan, and the Chernobyl nuclear disaster had just occurred. Overcome with the bravado of youth and the joy of driving, Knight sped through Georgia, the two Carolinas and Virginia. A thought entered his mind, which gradually took shape and turned into a firm determination.
Knight had enjoyed being alone all his life. Interacting with others often caused him anxiety. Every encounter with people felt like a collision to him.
Knight drove north to Maine, where he had grown up. There are not many roads in the centre of that state, and he chose the one that led directly past his family home. "I suppose I did it to catch one last glimpse, to say goodbye," he admitted. He did not stop. He saw his family home for the last time through the car windscreen.
Knight continued to drive ever "up and up". Soon, he reached Moosehead Lake, which is the largest lake in Maine. Beyond that, the state becomes increasingly uninhabited. "I drove until I was almost out of fuel. I drove along a narrow road. Then along a branch of that narrow road. Then along a trail." He drove as deep into the wilderness as was possible by car.
Knight stopped the car and left the key on the dashboard. He had a tent and a rucksack, but no compass or map. Without knowing where he was going, he squeezed into the thicket and moved forward.
Why would a 20-year-old guy suddenly leave the world? There was something suicidal about this act, only he did not kill himself.
– To the rest of the world, I ceased to exist, – Knight admitted. Knight's family surely grieved his disappearance. They had no idea what had happened to him and could not accept the thought that he might be dead.
His final gesture – leaving the key in the car – was particularly strange. Knight had been taught from childhood how valuable money was, and the car was the most expensive thing he had ever bought. Why didn't he keep the key – just in case? What if he didn't like living in the great outdoors?
– The car was useless. It had practically no fuel left, and I was miles away from the nearest petrol station, – Knight replied. – As far as I know, the car is still there, half-swallowed by the forest.
Knight said that he did not really know why he had left. He said he had thought about it a lot, but had not arrived at a concrete answer.
– It is a mystery, – he declared.
In all eras and all cultures, there have been loners – hermits, monks, misanthropes, ascetics, anchorites, swamis. But there are only three general reasons why people leave the world.
Most do it for religious reasons, to establish a closer connection with higher powers. Jesus, Muhammad and Buddha all spent significant time in solitude before bringing a new religion into the world. In Hindu philosophy, the ideal way of life is to be a hermit, and today at least four million people in India live as wandering holy men, surviving on donations from strangers and renouncing all familial and material ties.
The article was first published in the June 2022 issue of the magazine Rīgas Laiks