3/17-3/18/10: To the Coast-Melody & Marci

I originally contacted Melody via her Craigslist ad around the first of March. She was to be moving from Austin to Portland, stopping in Taos to see friends, then continuing on toward San Francisco. I had also been in chatting with Ray since Slab City, and discovered that he was in fact still on hiatus from his walk, and would be heading to the coast and up toward San Francisco instead of Yosemite due to climate concerns! It would be a bit warmer along the central California coast, and a good time to see some of the southern portions of Hwy. 1.

Between the two, it was obvious that this was an alternative to a dreaded trip east and a partial repeat of 2008's West Coast Run--one of my favorite's to date. It would also presumably provide an opportunity to dig deeper into some of the "Camel Ideas". This could be quite cool indeed.

For once, everything went as planned-- even better! Melody picked me up in Santa Fe as scheduled on St. Patrick's Day, and before nightfall we were sailing into Flagstaff where an ex-coworker from my radio days happened to live. Melody needed a break, doesn't mind venturing off the beaten path, and as the sun was about to set we were pulling into Marci's place for a nice, albeit quick, reunion.

The two of us had some nice chats between Flagstaff and Barstow, where we stopped for coffee on highway 58, before stopping in Bakersfield for a couple hours. The final stretch of road between Bakersfield and Hwy. 101 was incredible. It reminded me of what I imagine Ireland or Scotland would look like! We took took our time as the sun rose in the fog over the hills and valley behind us, stopping periodically for pictures or to just look around. I sent an email to Nick, who I had met my last time through, hoping to have a chance to catch up while I was there.

Shortly after merging with 101 at Santa Margarita, we came into San Luis Obispo and things began looking familiar after coming this way in June '08. I quickly remembered how beautiful this particular city is, and hoped against hope I'd see Pat's RV parked along the way.

From San Luis Obispo, you pick up Hwy. 1, and in a few minutes are in Morro Bay, and almost literally, ON the ocean. The first sight of the Pacific and the white caps can take your breath away! I was quite happy to be here and felt a surge of energy despite not sleeping much for a few days.

Cambria and San Simeon Beach State Park are a few miles up Hwy. 1 north of Morro Bay, and so was the nostalgia. I had experienced some very cool things in Cambria in '08, and had to smile as I rode past my fields and the church behind which I had lost (and re-found) SOG. This little town has held a very special little place in my heart since then, and I was happy to see that it all looked exactly as I had remembered it. It was now Thursday morning, and we were arriving at the campground a full day before I expected...

7/3/08: Portland, OR

Thursday

We got up pretty late again after enjoying the evening of solitude away from people; especially kids! We took out time tearing down the campsite then headed toward Munson Creek Waterfalls... off the 101 toward Tillamook from Beaver.

I had 3 messages from Laina about a voice mail I'd left the day before giving her the impression that something was wrong, when in reality I was just pissed at my inability to follow a budget! I had lost my shitty Sprint cell- signal the night before and had no way of contacting her, so when I did we had a bit of a good natured "you asshole!" laugh. She had done that to me during my time as a carnie in Louisiana back in March. We started discussing possible options regarding the terminus of the journey due to fiscal ineptitude on your protagonist's part. IOW: I'm shitty with money.

I decided to get to Portland, meet my Couchsurfing host, and explore the possibility of getting temp- work while I was there, then discussing it with her later on.

Eric, Marine and I got to the waterfall and enjoyed that alot. It was much bigger than I thought it would be, and the hike getting there was nice.

From there we drove into Tillamook, home of my favorite cheese, and stopped at the library again to check emails and so they could send off CS requests for Seattle. Then it was down Hwy. 6 to Portland.

It occurred to me that I was finally leaving 101/ Hwy. 1 for the first time in nearly 3 weeks. I was also leaving my constant companion, the Pacific Ocean, too. There was a slight twinge of nostalgia because I'd enjoyed that immensely. Yet, I was also ready to see some other things. Oregon is more than just the coast, and that was being drilled home the further east we went thru the Coast Range. Simply awesome. I love this state!

As we approached Portland, I guided Eric to my drop off point and began to gather my things. I'd been in their car for almost a full week, and had been ready to move on for a few days! I'm sure, though they said nothing, that they felt the same! I quickly gathered my stuff from the trunk, shook hands and hugged , and proceeded toward Dave's place. The houseboat! I told myself...

After a quick 1/2 mile walk down the road w/ my now featherlight pack, I found the marina, and began to seek out Dave. I was 45 minutes early, so I hoped it wouldn't cause any problems. Dave saw me wandering around and came out to greet me. He was pretty terse at first, probably annoyed that I had gotten there early and that he was still working. He guided me over to his place, which was NOT a houseboat, but a small one bedroom house built on the deck of the marina. He let me chill out there for 20 minutes or so- smoking and relaxing; glad to finally be in Portland.

Dave was much happier when he got back. He directed me to a much needed shower and laundry- session, then we sat and got to know each other a bit. He and I have VERY similar views on MANY things. He's a musician, so we talked about the uselessness of radio and the future of things, both artistically and socially. We then hopped in his van and headed downtown. There's a blues festival here this weekend, but finding parking was next to impossible so instead we went to Voodoo Donuts then to a little bar that had the Tigers-Mariners game on! Tigers won.

From there it was across the river to the east side of Portland, starting with the Mississippi District. MUCH better! Reminded me of the best parts of Denver, but better. Everything was open- music flowing thru the streets. It was nothing like LoDo... much more 'texture' to it. I really enjoyed that!

We got home about midnight, and though he offered me his couch I chose to sleep on a mattress he has on his covered porch. Slept like a rock... I like sleeping outside these days!

Oregon... ROCKS! I love it here! The people seem so damn genuine... much more so than California... and there's no sales tax either, on top of the fact that stuff's cheaper to begin with. The terrain is devastatingly beautiful too.... more on that, including pictures, when I get some time.

I'll be in Portland for at least a couple days; maybe longer. I've found a place to Couchsurf until Sunday, then may have another surfer to stay with after that... we'll see. It was ALOT easier to find hosts here, and my French friends, who happen to ALSO be Couchsurfers, found it the same. No luck in SF for them either but no problem here.

7/2/08: Stealthing Near Blaine, OR

I got up early again, after sleeping pretty well thanks to the wine! Eric and Marine went off to do some things, leaving me alone to write in my journal, get a shower, and sort my things to gather stuff to send home. Quite productive time spent actually. Discovered a lot of extra crap to send!

My attitude was good early, but deteriorated as time went on. I was annoyed with myself more than anything. At the fact that I was watching long- awaited Oregon fly by thru the window of a car rather than at my own pace. 101's not like Hwy. 1 though; it doesn't quite go along the coast. It's within a mile or two, but in Oregon rarely do you see it. That helped me to quell my self- directed annoyance! I'm such a moody bitch.

We proceeded north, stopping periodically though less often than we had been. We eventually found a library in Newport and began doing some research on possible FREE places to camp. All three of us were sick of State Parks and all the people and KIDS that come with them. $16 to experience noisy, crowded conditions? No thanks. We had all enjoyed the site at Nickel Creek much more and hadn't paid... a nickel.

That's right. I'm a fuckin' comedian.

They found a promising place through the very (maybe overly) helpful librarian, but we were still a couple hours away and it was 4:00 or so, so we rushed out and found a place to get cigs & food, that also happened to be a post office. I send my extra crap off, bought another steak ($3.75), a soda, and a $5.50 pack of unfiltered cigs. I didn't realize I had paid that much until I got in the car and looked at the receipt... and how little money I had left in the wallet. That sort of set me off and set the tone for the next few days as it turned out. I called Laina and left a terse message to call me.

We got started north on 101 again and found the little community of Beaver, which was our turn off toward the campgrounds we was found in books back in Newport. The drive was cool and the houses became fewer and fewer.. then the recreation area started shortly after the hamlet of Blaine. We eventually found a couple of the campgrounds that were shockingly FULL! What the hell!

We continued down the dirt road and Eric and I decided to turn around and hunt out our own site. It didn't take long to find one. We parked near a truck that had pulled off, walked down the little path chatting with the people who were there collecting rocks for something, then spied a perfect site, complete with a rock- circled fire pit and enough of a clearing to set up tents.

We collected wood from the area for the fire, got it going and prepared to eat. The problem with this campsite was that in our stealthiness, we had no grill over the fire and I had bought a steak and they had hamburger to cook! We improvised quite nicely. I cooked my steak on 3 or 4 thick tree branches, and they used a rock and tin foil. None of us knew, really, what the hell we were doing, but we ate like kings in the woods.

They had bought a 12 pack back in Newport and Eric asked if I knew any card games. HA!!! Do I... I'm a legendary, historical figure in the chronicles of Hillsdale Co's. alcoholics. I showed them "Bullshit". We got a nice happy glow going quickly and shot the breeze for a few hours building and playing with the fire in this isolated piece of Oregon's back country. We LOVED it.

Lesson: a campsite's rating is diametrically opposed to how much it costs. Less= More.

I decided to try to sleep outside, not wanting to either set up OR tear down the tent. That would have worked, but for the first time in nearly three weeks, I began to feel raindrops and saw thunder-less lightning.

I quickly set up the tent, cussing my laziness, and slept like a brick, again.

6/29/08: Humboldt S.P.-Redwoods N.P., CA

Sunday

The Lord hath proclaimed Sunday the Day of Rest. So hath Todd.

We got up and around a bit later than we'd have liked due to the beer consumption, and my energy level was... no so good! We didn't have far to go though, so we hopped back on the 101 and proceeded toward Eureka, Trinidad, and eventually Orick, which is the town that's essentially within Redwood Natl. and State Parks.

Eureka's always been a landmark for me as the last real 'city' in California before Oregon. Kind of a depressing little place. We stopped for coffee, which now was becoming a necessary theme, and sort of tooled around there before stopping in Trinidad for Eric to use the ATM. There was a little Artisans Market going on, and a few interesting characters milling about.

Also one embarrassing one.

I ran across the road to the gas station to reload on coffee, and while I was inside was this redneck straight out of 1965 who must be a member of the Lou Dobbs Fan Club. He was LITERALLY standing RIGHT next to a sign that read "Please take ALL alcohol purchases to the next counter!" While standing there he was berating the Mexican girl behind the counter complaining that he should be able to buy his PBR at any counter he "goddamn well pleased!" When the girl tried to explain to him that she wasn't old enough to sell to him, AND POINTED TO THE SIGN!, he went off on her perceived inability to speak English going into the now generic and tired tirade about "if yer cummin to 'Merica, ya aughts ta be able tuh speeks the Inglish!". Admirably, there was a little woman about half as tall as this endangered specimen of Redneck standing in line behind him who essentially told him to shut the hell up, learn to read, and quick being an asshole. I laughed quite loudly at this, as did a few others.

He didn't take to kindly to that, but the only thing he could say was, "Do you live here?", as if being a proud resident of Trinidad, California gave you some mythical license to be an elite breed of Xenophobic Prick.

I got in line behind my new hero and tipped the girl $2 for my $1.19 coffee.

We got back on the road after this little nugget of Americana, and eventually to the Redwoods NP Visitor Center where we got information on camping and a few other things. Eric and Marine decided on Elk Prairie Campground, so off we went to set up camp again. Another $20 site for them, but per our conversations the night before they let me slide on this because they were going to be getting these campsites anyway, and it didn't matter if there were two or three people. I had made it clear that there was NO way I could continue paying for camping on a daily basis, and beer, etc. They were wildly cool about that, as long as I wasn't costing them anything.

This campground, while beautiful, was another episode of Romper Room. SOOO many damn kids! LOUD kids this time!

I was still pretty wiped out from drinking the night before, so I wrote in my journal for a bit and then collapsed for a couple of hours while Eric and Marine went on a long hike. As with Florian, I tried to stay conscious of giving them time to enjoy themselves alone... without me tagging along all the time. Plus, I was exhausted. The nap did wonders for me.

I woke up, and since we had dead wood lying all around I decided to flaunt the park's Wood Nazi policy that you MUST purchase THEIR shitty $8 wood bundles, and began to collect dead Redwood pieces/ parts from around the area. It was quite abundant, and soon I had a nice little fire going. When Eric and Marine got back from their hike, they had gone to the store and Eric returned with wood, but we ended up not even needing it. At least I contributed something to the day, and Redwood smells GOOD- almost like the Pinon I've become addicted to in New Mexico!

I was sort of off in my own little world the rest of the night, listening to music and pretty much keeping to myself. The evening was uneventful, except for the beginning of the nagging feelings of annoyance at myself for tagging along with these guys for so long. It's nothing to do with them, and may have had to do with the fact that I was tired, and that the cloudy, smokey, cold- ish weather may have been affecting my mood. It's typically what happens after I'm with people for more than 2 days though... remember the Two Day Rule?!?!

6/14 & 6/15/08: San Luis Obispo, CA-Pat

In a rush again! These library policies can kiss my butt!

I did indeed leave Santa Barbara on Saturday. I decided to try to walk the beaches as far as they take me, but neglected to take TIDES into account! Almost got pinned in against a cliff after sitting on the rocks enjoying the views for about an hour.

I find out later that the off- shore oil wells pump 'tar' into the water that winds up on the beaches. Guess what I was sitting in while on the rocks! My pants are hosed...

It was an enjoyable day though. After I left the beach, I took some trails along the cliff edges and around a golf course and found where Hwy. 101 meets up with the main drag. I didn't feel like hitching, or hopping on the freeway so I crossed some train tracks, and followed an unknown road until I saw a sign for a public beach that was adjacent to the Bacara Resort. Quite an upscale place, so I got some funny looks from some of the very few people I did see, but they were nice.

Eventually, as dusk came along, and I finally did something I've always wanted to do. Build a campfire on the Pacific Coast. Not really sure why, but I was ecstatic! I called everyone I knew to make sure they understood how happy I was.

I was going to camp on the beach, but following the advice of some other bonfireists I climbed a hill at about 12:30am, and simply climbed under a pine tree with just the Thermarest. I eventually dug out the sleeping bag and slept quite nicely!

Sunday was spent sitting on the beach for the first 4-5 hours of the day enjoying the day. That's the nice part about having no schedules to keep, or places to get to. You can look around at where you are. I laid out the socks and shoes to dry, and eventually decided to try my luck on Hwy. 101 and get a bit further north. I had been fighting tendinitis on the top of my left foot that was triggered I came to discover by my inserts. I decided to take it easy for a day or two and give it a chance to recover.

I got to 101 and walked for a couple miles until the freeway designation ended, then thumbed it. After about 30 minutes a woman turned around and offered to take me as far as San Jose. She was nice enough, but annoying. There was no way was staying in that car to the San Fran sprawl! So, I asked her to let me off in San Luis Obispo and she did after buying me Burger King.

Meet Pat

I went into the gas station, and loaded up on water thinking I'd be walking and camping, but as it turns out I went about 2 blocks until I ran into a Goodwill Donation Center that was staffed by a guy in an RV. I didn't really make a rational or conscious decision, but I just turned left and crossed the road to chat with the guy and maybe get some information on what lie ahead, and where to camp for the night.

Pat was a bit leery of me at first, but warmed up quickly when he figured out that I wasn't in search of money, booze, or cigarettes. I told him what I was up to, and as it turned out he had done his share of hitchhiking and used to ride Harley's all over the place with his late wife.

After maybe 5 minutes of chatting he wound up inviting me to stay with him in his little RV for the night. I was a bit apprehensive at first; hearing Surplus Supply Dennis' warnings about how crazy the 'homos' in California are and how they like hitchhikers.

Dennis is an idiot.

Eventually, Friar Chris and Walkingman Gary's voices won out, and I took him up on it.

Pat wasn't living in his RV. He had a place in North San Luis Obispo County, but 60 miles away. With gas quickly approaching $5/ gal., he simply could not afford to make the commute so he slept in his RV parked between 2 trailers at the Goodwill Distribution Center, and went to his regular job from there. He is 60 now, and had a hard time finding work after having to go on disability for his knees because no one wanted to take on the liability when they could just hire a younger person to drive trucks. He had even a harder time getting help from the state. As he put it, if you're between 55 and 65, and haven't 'made it', you're expendable and thrown away.

That may sound melodramatic to those who thrive on exploiting the poor for profit, or believe in the predatory capitalist system, but I've seen other examples first hand, including my own mother. Pat lost his wife in the early 90's, and ever since and by his own admission has been lost. He has children who are quite successful, but he refuses to burden them with his troubles, because as he said they'd go ballistic to know their father's living in an RV with no bathroom.

I'm really developing a great disdain for you 'economic predators' who thrive at the expense of the poor while hiding beneath the shade tree of law, policy, and worse yet 'The American Way'.

These are the things we talked about all night. I loved it. Along the way I realized I'd neglected to tighten Chris' Boca bag lid all the way, and as a result soaked all my clothes, among other things, in my pack. Pat offered to take me to the laundromat, and while we were there we ran into a guy who was about my age and absolutely blindly proud of his ignorance.

He walked into the laundromat strutting proudly and saying 'Whuddup Dogg' to everyone. I wanted to grab him by the throat and punch him in the eye, but didn't. I just said 'woof' and glared at him, trying to make it VERY obvious I wanted him to stay away from me. I REALLY wasn't in the mood to deal with a 40 year old guy with the mental capacity and maturity of a 13 year old, and my testosterone level had risen to the point that I would have hurt him if he provoked me.

That sort of surprised me! Pat was sitting in the RV it turns out watching the whole thing. When the guy decided to smoke his blunt at the front door and start prancing around like he thought he was Snoop Dogg, I had just about had enough of him. Fortunately, the clothes were dry and I was ready to go. When I got in the RV Pat said, 'it looked like you were about to kick that little fucker's ass, and I was about to join you!'

We got on very well before this, but after Pat really seemed to warm up to me. He has the same, as Bruno defines it, 'thirst for authenticity' as I do. I can tolerate almost anyone who's who they are, to a point, but have next to no tolerance for fronts and displays. Our conversations were fantastic as we half-watched SNL on his 4'' TV and finally got to sleep at about 1am.

Pat has had an interesting life, and is madly proud of the fact that all he wants to do is work and 'find his place in old age'. I respect the hell out of that. It's hard to do though when your body fails and no one within your vocation will hire you and get no state support as a thank you for paying taxes for 40+ years.

I really felt grateful that I had crossed that road because the perspective he offered me was priceless. There'd be more of that to come later in the week...guidance from somewhere; seeming coincidences that defy logic.