Adam Robinson-Yu
A Short Hike

Deceptive and pretentious is how I would define the memory of a summer, full of fantasies, hypotheses, and imaginations. Mostly regrets.

The instruction leaflet is not encouraging; there is a possibility my head might drop from how heavy it feels, so I decide to spend a light-hearted night and relax.

Today I am Claire, a little bird abandoned by Mother on a ferry heading to a summer camp where I will be forced to spend the vacation with my aunt. Once there, I am waiting for a very important call, and with no reception, I will have to reach the highest peak on the map. To do so, I just need to gather a few golden feathers that can enhance my endurance during climbs or allow me to fly higher.

Except that I had absolutely no desire to climb to the top; it seemed exhausting and boring, I thought. So, I decide to focus mainly on the people around me and how to spend my free time since I have an infinity of it—at least, that's my perception—day or night makes no difference.

Taking a boat ride, gliding, fishing in a stream or pond, and playing volleyball with a stick are just some of the many activities we can do. And just like a summer vacation, you forget where you are; bewildered and curious, you need to sharpen your memory to discover—and remember—every place in Hawk Peak Provincial Park, all wrapped in the drowsiness and brightness of the Canadian Shield's colors with such welcoming minimalistic graphics that they envy the simplicity of a caress.

The grand finale of it all is encapsulated in the music of Mark Sparling, sweet and tangy like out-of-season cherries, with a nostalgic and melancholic taste. Perhaps your face wrinkles and stretches... but you just can't help it. They are meticulously slotted into the various contexts of the adventure based on the time or Claire's actions, not to mention the duo Hello?/A Short Flight—a jolt followed by a sigh that ends up sublimating the memory, dilating the times: this is probably why the longevity of the video game is just a handful of hours, as revisiting the past requires being careful not to dig your own grave (or not to get a stomachache).

In the end credits and the return home, on a winter midnight like many others but with one more thought, I wonder, can a hike be so rewarding if the ascent didn't involve the slightest effort? And then I think back to memories of just any summer, in just any place, with just any people but with an added jolt or sigh.