SUMMER OF 2006
In the summer of 2006 I discovered the beauty of being free, living lightly and exploring the unknown. It all began with a caravan out to Virginia, with two friends, a cat, and two Saabs. Dmitiri Melkomov, Vincent Marks and Kisa the cat. We nearly raced the whole way to Virginia aside from the brief stay in West Virginia where Vincent locked the keys in Dimitiri’s car at midnight, had Kisa leashed up by rope and slept for a few hours before finishing our journey to the Mark’s household tucked into the rolling hills of Virginia’s wine and horse country.
My Saab lost power only a few miles from our destination. I was able to persuade the car to coast, slow and steady, all the way into the Marks’ drive way. My car was broken down for days when music, bonfires and food filled the scene. I did not want to say farewell to this paradise of banjos, violins, orchards, mountain views, forest and all the rest. But, when we had found that the fault of the car was in the catalytic converter, we took a hacksaw to it, threw the exhaust in the rear of my hatchback, and I began to drive northwest.
My car drove as loud as a helicopter. It was time to go see my uncle who is a master at mechanics. He lives in Northeast Ohio tucked away within the quiet solitude of the Amish. He lives with my Aunt and neighbors to my Grandparents. At this time, my grandfather is in the midst of dying from cancer.
I did not stay long. Although I could spend my life on this farm, the universe was pulling me Westward. I gave my farewell to my grandfather and knew that it would be my last.
I stopped at the Rock and Roll hall of fame in Cleveland, Ohio. I walked along the railroad road tracks and spent the afternoon sun talking with two homeless brothers beneath a bridge and under a drink. They smiled and asked if I were homeless. ‘No, Home is where ever you are.’ My current lover had told me that, and I will never forget.
To northern Indiana where I connected with an old lover before her travels to Mexico and where I connected with David Watters and Emily Williams around a bonfire in Bristol, Indiana.
To Buffalo, Michigan and I stopped at every beach on the way to Gary, Indiana. In Gary, Indiana I stopped to see a friend, Mandi Renslow, at her father’s home on Lake Michigan. I drank some wine and whiskey in the upscale condo and knocked a vase off an invisible glass shelf. The reaction was shattering. The vase was ‘priceless’ and it was my time to leave.
It was late and I was drunk and driving to Chicago in this state of mind was not advisable. I saw semi trucks parked for the night in a parking lot off the highway. It seemed as no one, and especially not I, seemed to mind the posted signs that said overnight parking is illegal. I was the ugly duckling – the only car in the midst of 50 semi-trucks. Engines running, lights shining, people yelling, women running. I tried to sleep. I buried myself deep inside my sleeping bag.
I woke up with bright lights in my eyes and a knocking on my window. I slowly rose, reached over the front car seat to unlock the front door, door unopened and I was pulled over my front seat and onto the cold concrete ground by an officer with gun drawn, yelling and aggressive. They did not smell the whiskey on my breath. They informed me that I am lucky I am alive as I was sleeping in the Gary, Indiana parking lot with the highest account of murders and prostitution. They told me to get on the highway and do not get off until I am clearly outside of Gary.
Chicago is a cold city – the weather and the people. I came to see my lover but missed, so I went south to see some friends in St. Louis and then to Bloomington, Indiana.
Journey through a root…
AN INTRODUCTION TO ENTERING THE UNKNOWN
6.23.06
As I sat with this pen an inch away from writing – I think to my self, ‘how do I begin?’ I quickly come to a realization that I would not have been satisfied with any words that may have been used for the start of this entry. I am on a journey to expand my horizons. My travels are westward. My belongings – 1988 Saab 900s, bicycle, camping gear, and few other essential items – cigarettes in which I cherish.
As I write, I lie on a black and white woven blanket and rest on a pillow sewn by Evan Galup. My possessions are packed under a dismantled bicycle to the right of me – bamboo shade covers the hatchback window – faded headlamp crying for fresh batteries gives a warm glow to my writing.
I began driving from Bloomington, Indiana where I had a two-week stay with David Watters, Dan and Steve Sullivan and shortly Brady Dvorak. As I sat in Bloomington enjoying the flow of alcohol and the world cup, I held a longing to explore further.
The westward journey began in a caravan of two cars. Darrel Deckers Sunfire being the later of the two. My third companion, a neighbor of David’s whom I had spent the previous week exploring her mind and her love.
THE BEGINNING
6.19.06
The road called out to us at midnight on the 19th of June. The three of us lifted our tired heads to greet the morning rising over a spectacular lake sitting unappreciated beyond a brick rest stop in Illinois. We drove the last stretch to Giant City, roped up and climbed the rocks. After two days, as it is a rock climbers tradition, we went to Dad’s Pizzeria for a well-deserved treat.
We whispered words of goodbye as we sat on Dad’s front porch swing for a post meal cigarette. This was the setting for my departure. My destination – the setting sun.
COLUMBIA, MO
6.22.06
A quick overnight visit to an old friend – Doug Berkeley. A shower and laundry after climbing in the hot sun was more appreciated then one would imagine. An afternoon outing took us to the Pinnacles where rocks stood high and thin. We all stood high and thin. It came as a surprise that Doug’s wobbly body did not find itself lying stunned and injured below the wet cliffs where we climbed.
FAREWELL MISSOURI. HELLO TO NOWHERE AND NO ONE.
6.23.06
I drove all day long with aid from a Concerta pill that Doug gave me to keep me going. I am laying in the same position described in the first entry. My hand is getting tired and the Concerta is wearing off. I am in South Dakota. I drove 14 hours without a stop. Going Going Going. I drove out of Iowa and went west into the most god-like of storms. The clouds came down in thick black sheets and surrounded everything. All around me was a battlefield of a lightning fireworks show, which seemed to light up the world. So close and so intense it hurt my eyes as I drove. A turned over semi-truck yields the unsettling image from earlier in the day of a man strapped to a stretcher 40 feet away from my touch. Motionless. I want to keep driving, but it is late and gas stations are closed. I do not want to run out of gas in this storm.
THE SUN WOKE ME GRACEFULLY
6.24.06
I pulled into a rest stop last night. I made friends with a goatee wearing man who is taking his family to Rapid City. I drank Calvert Whiskey to lull me to sleep. I was up till 4am and woke at 7am. My thoughts on the Concerta were inaccurate.
I made it to the Badlands and felt like a fucking tourist. I left quickly. No trails. Stopped at Wall Drug for some 5 cent coffee and dreamed of Yellowstone.
On the border of South Dakota and Wyoming, Brent temporarily came into my life. He appeared to be 50 years old, but was probably much younger. He wore a grey beard and an army duffle bag on his back. He was well worn by the sun and his jeans were torn.
I picked him up on 90W. He thanked me and gave me all the money he had in return for the ride - $1.30 in change. ‘South Dakota is fucking uptight man, I walked the whole state,’ he said. I agreed hesitantly. He was coming in from Northern Michigan. Gillette, Wyoming was his destination. ‘Goin’ ta werk the oil riges,’ he said several times. We were 70 miles away from Gillette. I was fortunate enough to share the sights of Devil’s tower and to be the last helping hand on his 24 days of travel.
YELLOWSTONE
6.25.06
Wildlife is abundant. I saw my first grizzly. My exhaust system fell out and my jack didn’t work. I threw away my jack. I piled some rocks against a downed log, placed a metal grate on the rocks and drove my car up to and resting on the log. I watched the cars balance as I scooted beneath it to rig up the exhaust with wire, rubber and duct tape. What I enjoyed most was my drive out of Yellowstone up the western edge of Montana. This is a most beautiful country where winding rivers, rolling mountains and fields of wild flowers seem to be placed delicately by angels.
CANADA
6.27.06
I spent a grueling night in Priest Lake, Idaho where there was no legal place to park overnight. In the morning I picked myself up and charged my phone over a cheap McDonalds coffee. I am finally getting over a cold that began in Missouri. Here at the McDonalds a couple from Las Vegas spark conversation with me and offer me a large bag of trail mix. I delightfully accepted. I have been following the setting sun but I am tired of the cold shoulder of America. Maybe Canada will treat me well.
Canada hates that I am in their country. My car spent three hours climbing the mountains and waiting in between road construction delays on highway 31 that would hold me for 30 minutes at a time. Finally, I made it to Canada only to be interrogated. With question after question throw at me I realized that a sign that I had made to draw attention to my low budget trip was still placed in my rear window. I parked my car and came inside at their request.
They wanted to know my purpose and they had me speak with an immigration officer on the phone. Eight hours of waiting and questions and small talk finally passed when they sent me away to make a quick u-turn and go back into the United States. They wanted proof of finances. They want you to have $50 per day you spend in Canada. As I left Canada both the Canadian and the United States border patrol searched my car. They seemed to search every square inch but failed to find the half full bottle of whiskey tucked under some clothes.
I returned to the same border patrol three hours later with a printed bank statement. I was lucky again with an other full vehicle search. ‘How long will you be in Canada,’ they asked. Three days I said, which my Savings account proved to satisfy. I am finally in Canada, I am exhausted, and the people are gorgeous and active here. This story begins in a little town called Castlegar…
I park my Saab and began to replace my old sign that was confiscated by the border patrol. I dropped my marker and began to explore. Only a few minutes go by when a man asked me for a cigarette. I reluctantly agreed. His name is Luke. As I write this entry he is sleeping in a local park 40 feet away from me. Luke and I spent the day exchanging stories as he clung on to my travels quickly. He introduced himself as a thief who steals from people and places, but he won’t steal from me he said. I felt ok being that I had very little to steal. I asked him what he steals and he told of a story where he had a $10,000 diamond ring once. He didn’t say what happened to it, but I figured he had pawned it for crack. He was on probation for crack, is homeless and stole us dinner at a local grocery – chips and sausage rolls.
He wants me to take him to Vancouver. He claims he would pay my way in gas and food once he gets his $800 disability check tomorrow. He needs to be in Vancouver on the 10th for a court case. He was caught stealing, again. I am hesitantly considering the offer. Vancouver is 8 hours away and I do not have enough money to make it there. I do not want to run out of gas in these tall and uncivilized mountains.
6.28.06
Last night Luke borrowed my sleeping pad and slept besides McDonalds parking lot while I rested in my car. I bought Luke and I some coffee and we walked around bumming cigarettes off people. We both drove down to Trail, Canada to get his welfare check and this is when I saw Luke’s real face…
Luke is homeless, but each month he gets $1000 in disability and other social services. But, he lives the fast life for two days out of the month and for the rest he is broke and beat. We had a couple of hours to wait until the check was received so I bought Luke and I a beer – Wildcat, 6.8% alcohol. We sat by the river as we drank out of paper bag. Three others joined us with beer and cigarette in hand. One an old truck driver from Idaho, an other a crazed Vietnam vet, and an old withered local. It is before noon and I have a buzz from the drink.
Luke got his check and we went straight to the bar. He said we have to have lunch before going to Vancouver. So, he bought lunch, Johnny Walker Red, cigarettes, many bottles of Bacardi and several lottery tickets. The scotch was wonderful. He gave me $20 after blowing more on lottery tickets. Luke ran off and left the bar and I stayed finishing my scotch and talking with two wild homeless men at 1 pm in a small town bar – drunk.
Luke came back with my car antennae in hand. At first I was angry until he said he would give me money to purchase another. By now I knew he went off to purchase crack. Still he convinced me to spend the day and leave for Vancouver tomorrow. He paid for a two-bed hotel. I hadn’t showered since Missouri.
I got out of the shower and found Luke sitting at the desk continually smoking crack out of my car antennae for nearly an hour. He had all the last of his money, a few hundred dollars, laid across one bed. He began to shake and speak about getting us two women for the night.
This is when I decided it was going too far. I left my car antennae, took $40, and told Luke that I would be back with a case of beer for the evening.
6.29.06
I have found a hidden treasure. No, it’s not crack. Rather, it is a little town hidden in the mountains of British Columbia, Osoyoos. Here, a large clear lake is edged by light yellow sands in a fertile valley full of orchards and surrounded by tall wild mountains. It is paradise. The people here are dread-loc wearing hipsters who hitchhike in to spend the summer on the beach and in the orchards. Music, dogs, gypsies and alcohol take over my senses.
A couple, Shari and Colin, I had met on the beach took me up to the most amazing place my eyes have set upon. Through a labyrinth of high mountain unmarked roads we drove. My Saab barely made it over the steep gravel and deep holes. Over and hour later we are deep into the mountains and stroll into private property. It is late in the evening. The sun had set. The forest was filled with artists and hermits. We went to the home of the couple, Bill and Judy Abel of JB Fire, who own the land. A humble cabin built of their own woods is where we first enter. They are old, but excited to see their young friends with a case of Old Milwaukee beer in hand.
Their home is open and filled with driftwood, rocking chairs, art, ball jars of food and survival gear. Soon we went to the guest cabin and began to open the beer and the last of my whiskey. This is what moved the night along. We were all trashed by the end of the night and had the most amazing sleep inside that cabin with wood stove roaring.
6.30.06
The morning was spent on the lake in canoe and on back porch cooking bread on a wood stove while smoking Alberta cigarettes. I picked cherries later in the afternoon.
CANADA DAY
6.31.06
I ran into Colin and we went to an orchard where we will be working tomorrow picking apples. Here I met crazy Mike, an old family friend. Bellbottoms and bearded, he lived in a broken bus tucked back on the orchard. He smoked marijuana while sitting outside and joking. I understood why they call him crazy Mike.
The festivities began…Parades, fireworks and gangs of kids throwing water balloons at the soldiers who parade past. A beautiful woman asked for my company in the orchards that night
7.1.06
Eight hours of apple picking brought in good money, lots of smiles and smoke. Mike showed me some photographs from when he spent a year in northern Canada and had an alien visit.
Bummed around the beach, drank home brew beer, jumped off a 20 foot bridge. Abu paid me $70 and I’m off…
7.2.06
Finally in Vancouver, Canada at Stanley park where there are trees full of blue heron.
7.3.06
I parked my car and got on my bicycle and rode to Wreck nudist beach. The beach was primitive and unique. Sharing nudity is a wonderful experience that all should embrace. There is a band on the beach playing ‘Southern Man,’ and I left my mind somewhere on that beach when I accepted a puff of a joint that was offered to me.
7.4.06 – New Amsterdam Café and then to Everett, Washington where I celebrated the 4th of July.
SEATTLE, WASHINGTON
7.5.06
I called a woman whose number was given to me by Karen and Matt in Idaho. She offered me a shower and two tickets to the Seattle Space Needle. I went to the market and asked a pretty lady to accompany me to the space needle. Here, half the observation deck was closed off to an international bankers party. This is where we snuck in and enjoyed a jazz trio, open bar, lots of hors d' oeuvre, and many strange looks. Upon leaving I smooth talked our way into a free ferries wheel ride.
Seattle is too cloudy. I left the net day. I have horrid sunburn
7.7.06
Leaving Seattle I took a ferry across the sound to highway 101 where mountains climbed out of the lakes like ladders reaching for the sky. I am driving around Olympic National Park. At Rialto beach I hiked as the oceans power pounded against the rock beside me. A sea lion popped its head out to acknowledge my presence as a falcon guarded a rock bluff above. Among the 1000-year-old driftwood I spent the afternoon with three travelers. This is the most beautiful spot in the country. Visit the beaches that whose name begin with ‘R.’
Going toward Portland, Oregon I camped out at a rest stop when my transmission was having trouble and this is where I met Dave and Shandra. They sell cherries and supplied me with lots of information and some Chinese food.
OREGON
7.8.06
The classical music took over my ears in Portland. I went and helped Dave and Shandra at their Cherry stand. I am watching Mt. Hood towering off in the East.
7.9.06 – Mt. Hood, Oregon 11,244 feet
I got to Mount Hood with my eyes perpetually fixed to the summit. I asked around for information and advice. Everyone I had asked told me not to climb this mountain. I did not have the proper gear – no ropes, no crampons, and no ice axe. They said it was dangerous and the weather changes quickly and unexpectedly. I asked around for a place to get proper gear and there was no place around.
Everyone said the proper way to go is to reach summit at daybreak. If you climb during the day you risk big rock falls, sometimes the size of refrigerators, as the sun expands the frozen volcano. Mt. Hood is one big volcano covered in two glaciers.
I left at midnight. I took the south route from the lodge. My dim headlamp guided me away from the trail and I soon realized I had no path. I set up camp half way up the mountain. It is eerie being that no life is around, no trees, no plants, and no animals. There are clear skies and an occasional 20 mph wind. My tent is placed on a ridge being the only some-what flat spot that I could find in the dark night. I was worried about wind so I shoved my tent stakes deep into the ground and tied guidelines to the heaviest rocks I was able to collect. My pen is leaking ink from the high elevation and I am hoping that the wind doesn’t pick up. The mountains to the south explode in shades of blue tonight. My summit attempt will be tomorrow. Chances are small being that all summit attempts are made with crampons and ice ax in hand. Both of which I don’t have.
7.10.06
Winds picked up to an explosive degree last night. It completely rocked my tent and tore away every stake and rock that I had placed to hold down my shelter. My tent collapsed smashing into me. I spent five hours holding my tent down, unable to escape, because my tent would be blown away. The winds were so strong that I thought I might be blown off the mountain. I winds finally died down during the rising of the sun. On an hour of sleep and no food I attempt to summit. I soon realize how horrible of an idea this was. I am hiking up a glacier so steep that I must smash steps into the ice with every step. This requires 3 to 4 kicks a piece and later resulted in broken bloody toes. I hike and hope to not slip into the deep ice crevasses that line both sides of me. The winds are howling and rocks are smashing into me. My summit was turned down at the final technical climb where an ice ax would have been needed.
I hike and slide down the mountain to the last hundred yards where the ski lift was dropping off skiers and snowboarders. I tried to jump on for the final ride, hesitating and defeated, and was turned down by the operating crew. ‘Not for hikers,’ they said. If only they knew what I went through but I had not the energy to explain it. I spent an hour watching the boarders until I had a second wind to finish the last stretch. I should have figured the impossibilities.
Down below, I rested in the lodge and met a classically beautiful 22-year-old forest ranger, Rachel. She has offered to meet me in Eugene, Oregon and take me to a Wide Spread Panic concert. I agree with eyes shining. She must have thought I was brave.
7.11.06 – Eugene, Oregon
I roamed for hours, lost in conversation, games of chess, and later met up with Rachel whose blond hair was let down and her forest service outfit was removed for a colorful and flowing dress. She met me with drink. The show was amazing.
7.12.06 – Came south and met up with Dave and Shandra for a brief visit
7.13.06 – Arcata, CA
If the Tao could have a face I have met him. I spent the day with him and he told me his story. He traveled with his mother, hitch-hiking and walking wherever they go. They had no destination in mind. Their skin was worn by the sun and their eyes were as bright as the sun. They were beautiful. His mother must have been 70 years old and had the most beautiful long and flowing grey hair and smile the size of Buddha. We shared smoke and taught each other many things. I told him of paradise in Canada and he told me of his previous life.
He was married, two kids, and partied with meth, alcohol and free and open love. His wife left him with a man who she had extramarital relations with. This tore him apart and he filled his depression with drugs. He was on the verge of suicide when a light came to him. He locked him self in his room and began to study Buddhism and meditate for three months. He did not move or leave his room. His mother, out of pity, brought him his food. A moment came and he threw it all away. This was his liberation. He sold everything and bought an RV. His mother came with him and they drove west. They picked up a hitchhiker in Texas and he traveled with them for two days until he stole their RV and everything they had. They looked at each other under the warm Arizona sun. They had nothing but the clothes on their back and they smiled.
He has immense kindness in his eyes. He is a sage and he claims that I am one as well. He says I have the Tao. I sat up all night on church step between he, his mother, and another as he played a beautiful painted classical guitar that he obtained earlier in the day from a woman who he traded to a bamboo pipe.
SAN FRANCISCO 7.15.06 - 7.28.06
I met up with Dave and Shandra and began selling cherries for them on Ocean Beach. I needed some money and they helped me out kindly. San Francisco is where it all happened. It took my breath away. I forgot to write, I forgot to breath, I forgot about everything beyond This.
I feel in love with a beautiful woman and a beautiful soul. I met Jennifer on the beach while I was selling cherries, shirtless, shoeless, and torn by the sun. Her love for life is immense. She surprised me at night when she showed up at the motel where Dave and Shandra were staying and I was visiting. She swept me away. With whiskey in bag we walked down Haight, strolling, recited poetry in the streets, trumpets throwing notes into the air, madmen running, glorious graffiti alleys, scenes of lit towers of man standing high in the valleys night, palm trees and the city shining wildly. To a church we met and jammed with a beat lyricist on his birthday. She opened up her apartment to me.
I spent my morning at the cherry stand until she stole me away. At hippy hill we moved to heavy beats from drum circles and later she bought us a room at the Great Highway Motel on Ocean Beach – induced and beautiful. With eyes toward the ocean, reflected, it called us nude into the water. Cold.
I waited at the cherry stand until she swept me away. This time we fell deeper into the wild love of San Francisco. An Absinthe party and raffle for burning man goers began the night where meditation teachers, virus fighters, and research facilitators who study cocaine reaction in rats, breathed the air. Hugs, compassion, pork chops, pool, and love long into the night at this party where I won an expensive bottle of Absinthe.
Nights were spent on tenement rooftops overlooking city skylines, on beds of feathers, in hot tubs, in many bars, in many alleys, in many conversations with the homeless. Marijuana appears everywhere like a glorious magic trick. Late night bus excursions to bars with bottle in hand brings us into light. There was passion on 16th and Valejo, there was passion in the alleys, on the city lit rooftops. There was compassion all around because Jennifer holds a Universe of it everywhere she goes. She dances to the sound of leaves blowing in the wind.
7.25.06 Darrel Deckard flew into San Francisco. It is nice to see a familiar face. But, it is sad to continue on away from this bliss.
7.29.06
Tonight at 9:03 my grandfather passed away. He fought cancer several times and for several years. This time, he lost. It feels right that I am in California while he is now everywhere. His eyes would light up when he told his story of how he left home when he was young and went out to California. I think it was his first entry into the unknown. I often feel that I am living his life. His name will go on into the future through my words.
BIG SUR
7.30.06
Napped on the beach with waves crashing against rock and soon had another wild ride.
We met Janda Hay with her dog Karma. Soon we found our selves at her home. When we opened up scotch and absinthe a costume party began. We flipped records while Charlie’s Angel, Queen Elizabeth, and an English Flapper, among other characters walked into the room. Her and I stayed up late through the night, on the porch, with drink in hand and the ocean sighing in the distance. We exchanged knowledge, travels and glances. She was stuck and I tried to help her through it.
As we left the next day Janda’s dog ran along the side of our car for nearly a mile, not wanting to say goodbye. We put him in the car and returned him home.
7.31.06 – 8.1.06
We climbed rocks at Bishop Rock and it was great climbing. We spent a lovely night on the sands of Morro Bay, CA
I said a sad farewell to the ocean and to western California as we decided to redirect our travels east toward Las Vegas. A long and swerve road took us through desert and mountains. I drove like a mad man. I slept well beside a palm tree and had a 6am wake up call when the sun rose over the eastern mountains.
8.2.06 – 8.3.06
Las Vegas is trash. I bought a bottle of Jim Beam and refused to leave Las Vegas until it was empty. I wore a collared shirt and pinstriped pants. We stayed in the Bellajio hotel. The hotel was the best thing about Vegas.
ON THE WAY BACK HOME
In Arizona I slept right off the highway cuddled on top of red ants. I was too tired to mind.
We drove to Utah in search of rocks and were rained out.
We camped in New Mexico and played Frisbee at the university.
From Oklahoma we drove like mad men with Tennessee on our minds.
Somewhere we were drunk with exhaustion and crashed, Darrel in the front seat and I in the back for three hours.
We stopped at a country gas station and got a full tank of gas for $3 when the pump stopped turning numbers.
We stopped at a lovely campground in Tennessee where we were fed and hosted by some real southern hospitality.
A bonfire took the life of an old pair of green shoes of mine and some jeans that should have been burned years ago but my stubbornness and comfort in these old and raggedy clothes kept them in my life.
The night is gorgeous. The crickets are singing me to sleep. Dogs are in the distance, celebrating.
8.7.06 TRANSMITTION IS DYING
Made it to the Smoky Mountains for some hiking and pool side relaxations
8.9.06
On my way back to Bloomington the cars exhaust fell out again. We were maybe 2 hours from home. I struggled to wire it back up. Through the last stretch of our journey home we sounded like a helicopter. Bloomington finally came back into my life at 3:30 am. The trip was glorious. Life is beautiful. This is not the ending…
