Adjustments were made to the push pull illumination switch of “The Douglas” allowing for now continuous headlight action without the act of failure. At 10pm the jaunt north begins. The hull of the van is stocked full of unused additional building supplies stacked under the bed and in boxes dotting the walls. Roads move up the 5 freeway and split to the 299 E. Yawns are here and a narrow but comfortable bed awaits as the gravel along the side highway 299. I find a nice road that travels off the main drag. I position myself under trees and witness the break-lights light up the small dust particles before I remove the keys. My mind finds walks and the clouds pass a power pole with stars in rotation. The fence line is long but contains no authoritative signs. Being the temperature was suitable, I decided to move sleeping quarters roof-side and sleep under the big bright universe. Thinking of all the space in space and the rapid chaos of it all I find I could not find sleep, thinking of all the stories, and wrinkles just waiting out there. Thinking how boldly lucky I am to be sleeping there or even have thumbs at all for that matter. I used a tarp to disguise myself and ward off the wind. A design modification is thought of allowing some tarp to make a wall for privacy on the roof while sleeping. The sleep was well and I found in the morning had every type of energy- I was awake and ready to move but the time lapse and a hop over the barb wire took perfect time.
Engine roars again winding up hills and mountains to a lookout point were as I will spark some breakfast ideas. Off the pull off I see Mt Burney and other people observing Mt. Burney. I offer to handle cameras for people wanting the usual tourist photo with them standing close looking at the camera with the mountain in the background. Many families and loved ones get out, look, and leave quickly. A Hindi group of friends forms a conga line on the rocks and cameras are passed around. I join in and help the photo process insuring no friend is left out of the photo. I take a pic too. I step away again and watch as the friends joke, laugh, and enjoy the world a bit more than I have seen the other humans as they pass. I ask if they would talk about the subject of fun. Some agree. The first is nervous and explains they are all friends that went to college and have not seen each other for 6yrs. And this is the purpose of there trip. The second is more nervous and repeats the same thing his friend said almost word for word. To this he gets a razzing from the fellow travel mates. One girl walks nicely to the camera and says “F. is for friends – U. is for unity – N. is for nonsense....” well this took the cake and described the mantra for this group completely.
After they had left and a few more had come and gone, I had reorganized the innards of “The Douglas”. As I was about to leave a small hatchback 80's model car with homemade roof-rack back ups next to me a man and woman in there 50s, they man behind the wheel lets out his words in thick NY accent. He says “Vermont huh?” nudging his nose to my license plates. I tell him i've never been, and automatically I lose points with the man. He explains they are driving there son's car that has 300,000 miles on it and in the same breath he revs the engine and is gone. Humans are high powered bouncy-balls.
I go then to the road and it winds and takes me around. I stop at a big pasture behind a barbed fence. The bones of an old giant lay with it's limbs sprawled. Some giant needle-tree no doubt, much larger than any of the ones standing now here. It's bones are bleached white and many limbs are broken by it's side. I began to make the trek to touch the great tomb but find my ground quickly turns to mush, then water on top of mush. Detailed veins and curvy organic lines are brought to illustrated light in this bleaching process. I find a small specimen that is suitable for study and trace the grooves before I go.
“The Douglas” is holding very strong, not a shimmy or rattle heard from the roof-side. I can surely feel the added weight and know the once Porsche like performances are now a thing of the past. It feels like driving a skyscraper. But a surprisingly agile one. This deserves respect and shouldn't be pushed very far.
Later I spy a massive barn that requires my head to turn about and be exited and confused. The lines of this barn are not anymore straight, it appears as if it is a candle melting in 110* heat. I am forced to pass it and park where the guard rail is not. The downhill calls my skateboard and the carving feels good. I am in awe at this structure and gawk for several minutes before phototaking. On the raised road with guard rail the vantage is nearing the middle of the hight of the barn. The lower floor with windows and doors has slid out from base and lies nearly flat on the ground though still seemingly seamlessly connected to the remaining walls. There are no visible holes or absent parts of the thing. The roofline has a nice whales hump and the tall flat wall on the back curves like a wave inward. A swell of wooden boards towering over each other. I notice the folks who tend the land, they are busy mending fence and I holler my appreciation of this structure. They let me know it started construction in 1886 and finished in 1902. I see they are very busy and do not bother them much.
Goose lake comes next and is not entirely filled with water. It is an opportunity for clouds to make long uninterrupted shadows passing amongst the cows who graze and moo. I take time-lapse and relax and use the roof for an extended stretching period. I munch easy made food and take in the sunshine.
Lake View is next on the horizon. There I will eat and see the town. I bump up against a hotel that I get a tip on that the wireless internet uncontrolled by password and pop into the map world for a spell. I weigh my options and realize they may change. I find Hunter's hot springs and decide to take a look. Inside the wooded structure it has the feeling of a hotel/restaurant that was once in business. All the large banquet/dinner style rooms are nearly empty, some tables have chairs on top of them. There is a boy behind the desk, I would guess his age at 16 or so. He is very pleasant and informs me the fee is 5dollars. I pay and he points the way to the shower and proceed. The bathroom is a single normal bathroom with a tub and shower combo. Everything is old and wet. I enjoy it immensely. The shower creaks and the water spits and is very cold at first. I do my instructed rinse and make way to the outdoor pool. Opening the door steps are made into the complex completely surrounded by building with a dirty plexi window at the far end looking into the desert. A man floats extremely well on his back oblivious to everything around. I had seen a man in the parking lot and expected to see him but he had not arrived. The pool had a strange color but was not foul. The water surrounded me with warmth. I relaxed and moved to the spout where the water flowed from a pipe heating the pool. I touched it directly and found a reaction of muscles that yanked quickly. I took appropriate distance with caution.
I spoke with the Floating-man, him and Parking-lot man were traveling together from central CA, to celebrate Parking-lot man's 50th birthday. The day before they had hiked for 15hrs and the sunburns showed proof. Floating-man worked in a low-income hospital and Parking-lot man with people with abuse problems. Others joined the pool, large fellows with their ladies who were mostly silent. The owner of the springs came in at the same time as an ol-timer wearing a skimpy something they chatted and we all chatted of the history and how there used to be a geyser but a prison moved in and sapped the water killing the magnificent pressure from the earth. The talk of more springs sprouted up and the Alvord desert came into topic. I held interest in this desert as it had been in my possible sights. Discussion of the desert and the roads there and the springs there confirmed my going. The day was diminishing and I thought to make it there tonight. Conversations extended and I interviewed Parking-lot man about passions and strengths. It is also noted they chose there path at random, a trait I enjoy very much and a trait i'm told does not sit well with there women. I then wrapped it up and hit toward the road. It was estimated by the locals that it would take about 3hrs to reach the desert, because the roads were loopy and odd. I was instructed to swing a right at the 140 and trek on. I did as instructed and looped with the roads and passed an unexpected sign that marked that I was in Nevada I was shocked but confident the way was right. I drove until I found my eyes were very tired and drove further still until my tired eyes found a lake that jutted against the road. This is suitable for a short time lapse and the good-night nap. The bright star you see there is actually the planet Venus.
AM comes not horribly early and I make the short trip to Denio Junction NV about 3 miles south of the Oregon boarder. I spy the opportunity to apply petrol to my tank and understand this to be a biker bar/gas-station. To this I enter passing all the new clean bikes made by honda and others. Inside I hope to be a cesspool of mad-balls and bad apples but find none of this. I order “the coldest can of Coors you got” and it is delivered by a woman with good eyes. She has seen much and owns everything. I sip and make some comments that catch some chuckle. I notice the continued theme of dollar bills on the wall with writings on it. I ask for “a marker so as I can deface a dollar bill” It is given with a grin and I write “people bob for apples, apples bob for no one” and she asks where I would like it hung. “right above the Hot Damn if you have it” I notice the clean leather and patches also clean. I note how polite they are. One of the few that had a good smirk leaves the bar with his friend. I follow with camera. Outside there is a sculpture made of junk metal of a oversized harley and painted on the gastank the words “Gods Ride” they are looking at it when I approach. They talk of the reasons they ride out here, it is there back yard and they get away with much speed, “when I twist my wrist” They speak of the beauty of the desert and one talks a while on the subject of suicide and accidental death rate out here. I bid them thanks and farewell and buy 2 more Coors to go.
Fields OR. Population 8. Fields Station is the whole town, it is a market, a gas station, a restaurant, a hotel, bar, garage all in one. The folks are very friendly and the place seems popping with patrons pulling campers and wearing large cowboy hats. I purchase some gallons of water and gab with the waitress/everything else. She gives me directions just down the road to the turn off to the Alvord.
With anticipation I drive the road that turns to gravel, I pass the falling down buildings and the restored buildings made of large rocks masterfully masoned together. One a church the other a school. Pastures and crops sit between me and the wide open desert stretching outwards toward the mountains. I look upwards at the snow capped ridge high above, old tall dying and living trees are scraggly and silhouette the background.
The hill climbs and peaks, up passed the hump I see before me the great flat vacant cracked plain of the Alvord. I stop the van and take the picture mentally before digitally. The left turn caution arrow is a nice addition to the landscape. I exit and climb higher to gain better vantage. It is expansive but not forever. The clouds are Buffalo today and the herds are many but do allow the good amounts of blue and sunbeams. Sky cotton morphs and roils turns to spread or fume away or creates rain. I make that caution left and see more desert from elevated view. I see pockets of rain in moving over the flats. The downpour at a distance makes a grey void in the landscape. Miles upon miles can be seen.
After I am in no discernible middle I apply the breaks and climb the the roof where all of the sky is active over me. The colors of the ground are in constant movement with the shadows of the passing structures. A bright sunbathed peach tone turns as the defined line scoops it to a duller darker brown. Everywhere dust-storms erupt and precede its cloud front, making walking monster walls in the distance. Rainbows are subject to manifestation in any direction. How alive this place is.
I drop to the earth and notice its concrete likeness. A finger spins my skateboard wheel while it sits in it's attached position on the door. Plucked and pushing the skateboard flies out into the flats barefoot. My robe is tossed high in the air leaving only the sun, skate, and top-hat. It is solid enough to build speed and get some nice turns in. The voice-box cannot be stopped of Hoots! Whomps! and Hollars!
Now I notice these strange recently lava, rocks pitted and maroonish in color. Some of these have a long trail indented into the earth behind them. I mean it looked like the rock had slowly wandered with much gravity to it's present location out here in the middle of space. Nothing in my light geographical knowledge or my problem-solving imagination could solve what has happened or for all I know still happening. The groove is not fresh with wind rounded corners the trail tails off infinitely.
The gas is going again and the beauty is observed much though lens. A Coyote is spied and he seems to be grinning at me. I keep moving toward him and he pauses allowing me to get closer. At his proper distance he bolts, his body though distant is wonderful to see. He occasionally turns his head and sometimes turns sideways without running to look at me and I swear he was laughing. I noticed shrubs growing where he was taking me, and again his head turns to me. The pursuit keeps rolling. He is up on higher ground now and is looking still laughing. This is when I notice the steering seems very sloppy and I see mud hunks flying from my tires, the earth is turning soup. I realize I am his joke and am in his kingdom. With evasive action and a quick flashing look to laughing Coyote I leave with my continued speed in a wide sweeping turn. Had I even stopped the vehicle a little I'm sure I would have been forced to stay, and Coyote would have laughed all night no doubt.
(Video Later)
Having been mocked I feel inspired that god has humor in what ever form god does the god bit. I feel my acceptance in to the tune of the universe is relevant and with purpose. To this I see a great storm cloud coming straight toward me from the mountain tops. I see maneuver around it is possible but decide with faith and laughter to dive directly into the center as thanks for not getting stuck. As it started it was light but as it came toward me and I toward it, quickly did the drops become dimes and then quarters. They hit with authority and plenty of friends. The mud on my wheels flew high into the air, I accelerate to compensate. The smashing is intense and violent. I am a beaming chuckling thing. There is bright sun lighting the end of the clouds outpoure. It lights up an entire blinding broad wall in front of me. The hand juts out with open palm feeling the smashes of giant drops and breaking. I take note of the explosions on the lines of my palm. Quickly the silence starts and the sun is single again and above me. Shot out like a sci-fi move from the space storm. Stopping I see the thing moving in the rearview. “What's This!?”
The light behind the wall grew very bright, I reacted by dropping my exposure to see what my human eye could not see.
I leap out and am boldly astonished as the biggest boldest double rainbow I have ever seen is front and center in the rear of the glorious rain cloud. To this my mind does unhinging and hooping with hollers, squallers and noise. I am shaking with cameras and kicked-tickled spouting. I need to run in this and jump and shoot my atoms of excitement upward. I do and do it well... Then I lie down and look upward to feel my naked on the dirt. Wide eyes, wide eyes, wide eyes.
I leap out and am boldly astonished as the biggest boldest double rainbow I have ever seen is front and center in the rear of the glorious rain cloud. To this my mind does unhinging and hooping with hollers, squallers and noise. I am shaking with cameras and kicked-tickled spouting. I need to run in this and jump and shoot my atoms of excitement upward. I do and do it well... Then I lie down and look upward to feel my naked on the dirt. Wide eyes, wide eyes, wide eyes.
Besides the breakfast Coors and one more Coors my food has been nil, so a stop is taken to take in some sipped soup and chips. Bliss is the kick here. Appreciation of the magnificent marble we float around the universe on. Damn near forced.
Later the kitchen is opened for business. A Thai, rice-shells, egg, veggie combination is created. I notice the wind whacking at my flame at the wrong angle and notice I could turn the van around to create a major wind block. This is done while water is boiling and veggies are cooking with the back door open. I eat on the roof when all is done watching everything change.
I pass much time here in jaw drop and feel as though I am soaking in something important that is hard pressed to be expressed about correctly. The day drifts on in these fashions and soon I realize my eight hours of drive time ahead back to Portland where as the next day some important things of business should be dealt with. I do not want to go and I have still to find the hot springs. I pop out of the dry lake bed and back on the dirt road west. It is a mental plan to plop into the springs for only a few minutes and make my way out. This is not to be the plan the Alvord would have for me.
A high pitch pop noise is followed by a snake hissing spinning sound that I know to be a hole in my tire. With speed I stop and examine leaping wide to cover ground.. Yep a small hole, so I know I can roll for a very short time before I am flat. Full-on I round the bend and see what I did not know would be there, the Hot Springs. I have the moments to pick a spot off the road overlooking all that is glory. I place my oversized jack under the frame and open up the shop doors with a calm smile as the air finishes shooshing out of the wheel. With little concern I breathe and enjoy my doorstep. Next I focus toward the hot springs for I have no spare to take up my time.
(Video Coming)
The trail is dusty and runs next to the multi-colored multi-textured land-creek. Itty bitty structures are seen amongst the bigger structures of algae and growth. It is similar to photos I've seen deep into space. They ebb and flow with the will of the constant water. I march onto the deck. This tub is not like the previous one. It is wooden and tin, the tub is slats of wood boxing in the water with clothing dryer basins as seats, corrugated tin walls off another section presumably to deflect high winds. A pipe comes out of the land-creek and off the ground and passes the piping hot water into the tub with us. The water penetrates my dry skin with relief like no other. There is a 4inch cylinder of wood that has seen the ages that slides into and out of the pipe controlling the flow of water.
(Video Coming)
The trail is dusty and runs next to the multi-colored multi-textured land-creek. Itty bitty structures are seen amongst the bigger structures of algae and growth. It is similar to photos I've seen deep into space. They ebb and flow with the will of the constant water. I march onto the deck. This tub is not like the previous one. It is wooden and tin, the tub is slats of wood boxing in the water with clothing dryer basins as seats, corrugated tin walls off another section presumably to deflect high winds. A pipe comes out of the land-creek and off the ground and passes the piping hot water into the tub with us. The water penetrates my dry skin with relief like no other. There is a 4inch cylinder of wood that has seen the ages that slides into and out of the pipe controlling the flow of water.
There are at present two other humans from Portland in the tub, they have a gas stove and are cooking wild mushrooms that they share with me as well as whiskey to water down my “so called” troubles. It is delicious and the whiskey warms my insides to meet my outside temp. They are trekking around quickly and are headed to Leslie Gulch in the morning. The sun fades as my fingers prune. Talk is made around the tub and also silence in enjoyed.
After proper pruning I unplunge and propel myself to setting up camp. This will actually be the first time the wings for the rain-structure will have had tarp on them. The experiment is rigged with A-Clips and zip-ties. Not exactly what will be used in the final construction. I feel no wind and see the arms hold solid and fine. The support for keeping them extended is the pressure on the tarp itself. I wondered if they guy who welded these weight sets together ever could have thought they would end up reconstituted as arms of a rain structure.
I spoke to an old man traveling alone camped near me. He is from (judging from his accent) eastern Europe. His face is long bearded and he is an outdoor man, this is clear. I just give my hello and see he wishes probably not to speak, his nose is in his book.
It is in this evening I come up with a plan. To call friends and have them pick up a cheap used spare and have them come for a forced campout is cheaper and 100times more fun than having a tow truck tick off the miles at my expense. With some phone calls this is done. Mr. K.G. Spock is the first to call and the champion. More calls are needed to round up some coins to get the tire moving out of the store. Amazing the price ranges automotive stores give for the same item. 40$ out the door with tire and rim. Hot Damn. My phone is stuck to the velcro wall and I take a walk as the day falls to night. Pockets of stars drift along and out of sight. I returned to the tub for more soak and grow sleepy in the soup. The night becomes a bed.
In the morning my fine friends from the springs the day before come on walk about to inquire about breakfast. I have some supplies and he has some supplies. The rain comes lightly but would be pesky to cook under. Luckily the tarp and wooden overhang make appropriate shelter. We utilize the 3burner stove and I go to work on the living room. (rain structure with tarp floor, seats and a window.) I secure the C-Stands of old found by some train tracks some years ago. They are hefty and compactable, they fit well and hold the thing still. The other large tarp I lay on the wet and now muddy ground.
While the chef is busy cooking potatoes and eggs I find his woman in the tent avoiding the soggy day. She is invited up and we sit in the living room and enjoy the breakfast of the day. They tell more of there plans and of the rock formations of the Leslie. I see them off and wave good bye.
The dark clouds look almost frightening coming from the looming mountain. Time lapse is recorded. I set the tent on the roof and it fits snug requiring gentle and well placed stepps to get inside. Once inside the rain can not touch you and the view expanses wider. I fiddle there and everywhere, I am in and out of the tub frequently I greet people as they come and go and a steady supply of donated beer or whiskey finds my lips.
Later I notice a nasty reverse storm coming in a bee line straight at camp. It looks like it means business and with hustle I set camera and break down the rain structure as I have yet to see it in moderate winds and wish not to tempt the fates on this one. I collapse the rain-gear and get back to the cameras that are across the road. A white van pulls up and stops looking confused at me as I scramble. They must look at the flattened van and think I am a wild bum. Of course by some definitions they would be right. They view the freak show and shove on after I assault them with a giant wave and happy smile. This thing comes and storms over the top quickly. Odd to see this thing come toward us, all the rest of the movement came from behind where the mountains lay. It's fierceness dissipates quickly and into nothingness as it must have met some other form weather that defused or dominated it into a docile position. Good rush though.
Later I speak to Jim a man of large stature and lone walking. He brings a beer and a smile. His voice is deep and full of wisdom, we talk much of the values of life and travel. He informed me he had not been to this spot in 20 years. He was practicing law then and had a daughter that was about 10 then. He lived in Hollister, CA and found this to be a “refuge from reality” He spoke of the antelope. He reminisced of the travel in 1968 across the country on ol highway 66 staying in the old “Bates Motels” he called them. The transcontinental road system was still not complete at this point. One hotel west of St. Louis was a “real hillbilly joint”.. He talks of the Arch just being built. Gallup NM he recalls the Navajo wrapped in blankets on the road side and how now they drive pick-ups and listen to rap music. To this he shakes his head sad. He loves the old stores and shops that haven't been run over by Walmart. He gives me ideas for documentary. Including: hot springs, the old shops and how they interrelate with the world, expanding wolf population in parts of the intermountain west. They love wolves Cook City by yellow stone because it brings the “Woofers” tourism crowd, but the ranchers do not like them because the munch as steer for lunch sometimes. After a hunk more than an hour of talk (on audio) it is time for his departure. The admiration and handshake was mutually appreciated and connected somehow in this vast desert. His wife is back in a hotel or somewhere, I told him she sounds nice letting him jaunt out alone. Not a tight leashed codependence life trip that plagues so many. It's clear that a man of Jim's caliber would not allow this, and I'm sure She is of top shelf quality. I must mention the digs of Jim's rig too. Mounted on the back of a pickup it was a finely crafted camper with wonderful shelves and foldout bed. We bid farewell and dust followed his exit.
I wander back over the cattle guard in the road to the home I call home. It is now time to re-deluxe The Douglas. To make room for my friendlies to fall asleep, eat and drink. As of now the organization was not stationed in a satisfactory nature conducive to dual human sleeping. The tent was already roof-side and ready however, I had cautions for the coordination it takes to enter the door is great. Sleepy people and tall gravity do not mix well. With much re-shuffling and mild muddling while taking opportunity to watch the amazement of the land many tasks were done, and the night fell.
K.G. Spock+ M were not arrived. With more phone calls it is apparent they are lost and on a road with nothingness except an emptying gas tank. They describe things to me and it sounds right except everything they describe is inverted. “Mts to the left and desert on the right” they spoke... Mine was vice versa, and I was wondering if the common dyslexia amongst the group wasn't crossing wires and whose wires, and how many times? They failed to hit the turn off and ended up just after sunset in Nevada. This we understood was wrong and righted there paths quickly. My maps called this dirt road in the desert something else than what the sign said so in fact not anything was easy.
I am not one to leave breadcrumbs or recall even roughly the miles from one place to another when I am in the “beauty amazement absorption mode” I estimated it was 7 or 8 miles past the turn off I think it turned out to be around 20 or 30. All stores were closed and light had dimmed to a faint faint view. Some comedic worry ensued. I flagged a passing jeep going the direction of my friends and asked them “If you see a very weird car with very weird people please stop them and and let them know the world is right and they are almost there.” They agreed and were gone. My reassuring missile did reach its target and head lights did come around the bend.
There was confusion with the M about our departure time and arrival estimation time back to Portland. A huff that passed quickly was forgotten entirely as the hot springs soothed weary road bones. Jokes never stopped of course, even in and especially in the course of discourse, the finest and brightest know this...
This night passed into the sleepy kingdom rather early. Camp-sitting and dinner-eating was mellow with gladly sleepy mood. ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ....
The morning came and with it the attempt at the tire switch. Well it is commonly known that beer or whiskey is a natural lubricant for conducting labors activity such as this. So before the bolts twist the tops of bottles must pop, so away we drove to retrieve. The sights are always amazing. The desert sweeps by to the left. Shrubbery blurs into green swath. Clouds cover the skys leaving a ambient light on the matter. The road climbs and makes it look like we will ramp off into the sky. Roads dip down forming a V out of our perception of the road.
In Fields we pull up and pop in the store. Us 3 filtered through the isles of everythings and found somethings. Some of them we eat, some we drink. The family that owns the store is quite friendly and has the desert humor... very dry... kidding. No they are jolly and do accept and retort sharp tongued humor.
When we return M sets to work kitchening a breakfast, and the K.G. And me sit to spin bolts. It is difficult to say if my iron is the wrong size or not because unless it is done slowly while riding the breaking point, the knuckles will slip. I am exerting a massive amount force with little effort. Using a long steel bar I have made the handle of the iron very long and seems to make steel hot by the friction. The wheel is unwound and the deflated thing is discarded for now. The new tire is full of air and the pit below the axel is not tall enough. I was unable to place the Jack under the axel as the van was deflated past the point of no return. With a hatchet and a 3lb sledge I set to work smashing the wedge into the earth cutting it well and breaking it apart. With in minutes the tire was triumphant in position but peril occurred when we tried to apply it to the pins. The spacing was correct for all the bolts and holes but the ring in the center was centimeters too small. With this comes cursing and shit-fitting for a few short moments, then cool presided as it was decided we can take our wheels to town (Fields) to get the low down as to who could swap my rubber and rim.
(KG's photos)
We purchased beer and whiskey which amplified merriment and soul. For a reason it is verbally permitted to us by the owner to buy beer inside the store and open it when we step out of the store. This reason was not questioned. She tells us we would have to wait for her Dad for the tire. She said they had a machine to make the wheels turn. We would have to wait and have beer. The woman was looking through a catalog with another woman and we watched and razzed and had good laughter.
The granddaughter to “Dad” stepped up on a step stool to get closer to eye level. In the sweetest kid voice she informed me she would “like to show me something”... I asked what it was and she pointed outside and said with a smirk “I would like to show you the door!” Oh this was great and glorious, and we did rant and rave the extravagant qualities of the girl. To her suggestion and to make her feel more powerful we headed toward the door, and out.
It was perfect timing that Jim was at the station as well as some other folk I had talked to. We rehashed our encounter to the others around the pump. Inside I had signed the guest list with my given sur name. I saw someone placed “AKA A.Saiboat” I believe it to be Jim (Jim if you are reading this I've tried the email but it dosent go though. Please contact me if you would.) We spoke to 2 environmental folks who were taken back comically by K's car and our walking about talking to everyone. Well I knew everyone. It was great.
“Dad” enters the equation and we bring old rim and new rubber his way. We roll into a small shack-like place with a round machine in the center. Cement makes the floor and the lighting was not strong. With practiced speed and finesse one tire was ripped off and the other was prepped for the merger. We spoke with video about the reasons and series of events of his families landing here. This was his retirement plan, and he says his investment has "sweat equity". When it was all over and after much chatting was done, Dad was a gracious and did not charge us a dime for the switch. He laughed at the paint of K's ride, I could see his face picturing him-self and how he would feel driving that thing.
We began returning but a beautiful sight stopped us and we climbed a hill. We exited and tromped all over the landscape taking photos and laughing with our liquids. Kenny stumbled upon but not atop of a rattle snake that we each got photos of the hind end of.
Back at the camp the wheel was reunited with the van and celebration began. Boisterous janglings and singular parades pronounced them-selves loudly and we trumpeted our selves to the hot springs and back several times. In the night we howled and showed our terrible teeth in wild rumpus fashion. All three we fell asleep in the van inside proper and slumbered in odd positions all through the night.
The morning came again as always. Today there was sprinkling rain. We did get underway, with one farewell stop at fields and jaunted like jokers down steep paved roads and saw vast prairie roads and canyons and fog, we saw strange tension line power poles and a bird commit suicide, we then saw fog. We saw small towns with the “What Knot Shop” and found our roadways lead to the town Brothers. This seemed a suitable pit stop and we did enter to drain. The rustic wood-made structure solid, they cooked food and had five types of candy, possibly more. They sold soft drinks and had friendly eyes. One impressive man could catch anyones eye. He was behind the reg eating french fries with ketchup standing taller then most around this world. His hair was bright white and his skin was a near purple. He had slow soft movements but his mind appeared sharp. There was an old old blown apart building across the road with windows busted out and beams coming apart. I asked the old man if he could tell me the story behind the building I pointed toward. With slow decided direction he shook his head yes and spoke with heavy words. “Yes.... Yes... I can.... and then he dove another french-fry into the ketchup and put it in his mouth chewing with intention and swallowing. He explained an old Jewish couple built the place back when the road was not a highway but a dirt road extending in both directions very very far. He explained they lived there for some time until the husband was working on a generator that lite him a blaze that resulted in his death. The wife later sold the land and moved far far away. The old man explained to me it had been through several changes scene then and he had for a time even lived in the place. He told me I would be OK to go take a close look but asked we not go inside. We thanked and obeyed this suggestion and bid him and the others goodbye.
From here we find lunch in a later town, one that advertises Thai food but serves only traditional American breakfast and lunch with only Pad See Ewe until dinner time. So this was done, and then coffee was had to go. We saw more road and fog and trees and sky. We rolled into Portland after night fall and it felt very good to see the skyline once again, knowing this place is such a refuge for the odd and art filled. Knowing this place I will call home even though I roam far and farther. The Oregon sign is in neon as we roll over a high bridge and give the high sign to the downtown.
From here, its organization and plotting with a departure time in August. Stay tuned for videos from this, The Alvord Jaunt.
Thanx
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