DAYS 6-7
Still Couchsurfing at Leah's trying to decide rather I want to try to come up with a kayak to take the Colorado River, which is across I-70 from here, into Utah toward Canyonlands or pack up and head either west or north. I hadn't really planned on being in this part of Colorado, so I'm having to re- tool what few 'plans' I've made. I'm thinking I could get to Rifle, and walk US-6 or head north toward Craig in an effort to get toward Idaho then Oregon. I could also head due- west, but then I'm completely reliant on rides to get me thru Utah in general and maybe Salk Lake City in particular. I have no urge to deal with SLC, but must confess I'm curious to see what the people in Utah are like. Somehow I suspect they're not as 'weird' as some people would like us to think!
Sunday was spent lounging around, and taking the free- bus around Glenwood going to the thrift store and the Army Surplus to seek out some different rain- pants. Ft. Morgan made me realize that the jogging pants I brought may be a bit insufficient in the long run! I also kind of wish I had kept Friar Chris' big yellow rain hat! In the end I decided it wasn't worth the money to just get some flimsy pants, so I'll go with what I have. James went with, and he seems to know alot of people here. He splits his time between Leah's, a van, and a tent in the mountains. He also told me how to get a 'food card' from the state; 3- mos @ $160 a month- the day you apply. I'm not going to do that of course, but it struck me that the social 'services' in Glenwood, and Colorado seem remarkable. They have a day center where people can get a shower, Internet access, and even some food. The vagabonds seem to appreciate Glenwood, and it's obvious that they have a rather progressive attitude here. Because of this, I believe, while the 'alternative culture' is thriving, that's why I have yet to see ONE panhandler. It's a good place to be for those who choose to tell society where it can go.
I spent the first money ($20)on food since I left last week too. A box of 12 Cliff Bars, trail mix, loaf of cheap bread, and some summer sausage in anticipation of leaving here this morning, but the weather will be better tomorrow and I want to think a bit more about the possibility of working for a week or two to either get the kayak or add to the funds. Wages are inflated here; $10- $12 almost everywhere and Help Wanted signs too. I just don't know if I can stomach working!
Leah and Rob said I could stay indefinitely, but I'm getting itchy feet and noticing that the longer I'm here, or anywhere, I get a bit off- track mentally. I adapt to domestic- life, but then the splinter in- the- mind starts to itch. My internal compass reminding me I'm straying off- course. That's something that's always been with me and before I knew what it was, even got to the point of depression! I know there are alot of people who have that sort of "inner voice" screaming at them, but they simply can't interpret it. It's something that's there to guide you and the "Rosetta Stone" presents itself when you start to listen, rather than fight it, blame yourself, and let your indoctrination and the "Ministry of Standards & Practices" convince you that the 'flaw' is YOURS, that you're defective and need to 'get with the program'. Listen, observe, ask honest questions and you'll soon begin to realize that the flaw's not yours- it's the 'program' that needs to be 'fixed', or preferably in my estimation: ignored. Thoreau: ... but I will still make what use and get what benefit from her I can." Nothing immoral about that; the system uses you in the exact same way!
You'll either get that or you wont.
I also signed up on Digihitch.com today to try to find a possible partner. I'd love to have someone I could chat and experience stuff with, but what are the odds?!?!? Ha!
Been a pretty chill couple of days, but yeah... getting a bit restless!I may head out later this afternoon still... it's Memorial Day, so I may be able to catch a ride quite a ways with some people who came to Glenwood for the holiday, but I don't know yet. My indecisiveness is still driving me batshit!
Oh, one funny note although I'm sure they don't think so. Rob forgot to put 'Red' back in his tank Saturday night. Red is the red-tailed Boa Constrictor in the pictures. He's small... maybe 2-3 ft., and pretty harmless... now. We tried desperately to find him, but no luck. So, there's a Boa slithering around the trailer somewhere. They bought a mouse to try to lure him out... but... we'll see about that!
I keep picturing news footage I've seen:
"Next on Action News: A TWENTY- FOOT Boa Constrictor is found beneath a Glenwood Springs trailer! Neighbors had no idea it was there and the mystery of the disappearing neighborhood pets is now believed to be solved..."
Now you know how these things happen!
Monday, May 26, 2008
Saturday, May 24, 2008
5/24: And the Road Has Always Led West...
Ft. Morgan to Glenwood Springs, CO
"Into the Bush"? Not so much. When I got up to I-76 at 11:30, it was as if there were some imaginary boundary I wasn't meant to cross. I discovered there were MORE tornado watches issued for Morgan County, and the rest of NE Colorado so I re-found my familiar spot under the Conoco sign advertising gas for $3.92, and waited for a ride toward Sterling, Julesburg, or ANYTHING near I-80. The thought that the weather, and my seeming inability to get out of Ft. Morgan for my third day, was making me think that perhaps I should forget Nebraska, Iowa, S. Dakota etc. and head toward Oregon now. One way or another. I figured I'd see if a ride developed while I saw how the weather would play out. I could always walk up Hwy. 52 toward W road if things cleared up later in the day, and if severe weather came through, I could get inside. In reality the weather began to go to hell. Storms moved in, a public address system that they use to announce severe weather went off, and it got COLD! Plus, the wind was incredibly strong. I found out that a tornado had in fact tried to touch down nearby, but never quite got to the ground after 3 tries. Close enough for me. It's also Memorial Day weekend, so most of the cars I saw consisted of families who had no interest in picking up timid hitchhikers. At about 6:30, with a new storm warning issued, and it getting dark, I left the gas station to seek shelter, and before I had even gotten out of the parking lot... guess what... a pickup truck hauling a large John Deere stopped across the road and offered me a ride.
West.
I asked how far he was going, and he said "almost to Utah". That was enough for me after 3 days in Ft. Morgan, so I hopped in.
The drivers name was Dennis, and he had been seriously burned I later found out in a oil well accident back in 1980. He seemed nice enough, a guy who seemed like a big talker, but I didn't get a threatening vibe at all, so didn't feel too concerned. I was certain I could whoop him if need be! But about 2 blocks up the road be let's me know that he's had a 'couple of drinks', but "not to worry". I figured, since he was headed toward the business district I'd be able to see how worried I should be rather quickly, and he was driving well, so I just went with it.
The tractor was to be dropped off in Ft. Morgan, along with two HUGE tires (pics)and, of course, he asked me to help with that- which I did. Plus, if he fell off the trailer, I'd know he was in no shape to drive! No one was left at the business, so he just dumped these two massive tires wherever they fell, left the tractor by the chain- link fence and left. He was none to happy that they had left for the weekend, because he wasn't getting paid! He attributed it to the tornadoes. I figured it was 6:30 or 7:00 on Memorial Day weekend; I wouldn't have waited either. I kept that insight to myself.
We got on I-76, and headed west- back down the same road I had ridden w/ Chris a few days earlier, and I caught myself thinking 'what a waste!', but then realized that this was going to be a part of the complete mosaic; journey not the destination thing.
On the way toward Denver, I learned that the 'couple' of what I assumed were beers were in fact huge hits from the Vodka bottle in the console! I then learned that he had JUST gotten a DUI in Oregon, and been in a minor accident after falling asleep near Eagle, and would soon be losing his CDL. GREAT!!! I began to plot ways of getting out of that truck in Denver where the surroundings were familiar, but just couldn't stand the thought so I decided to ride it out, and see where it took me. Part of the journey... part of the story... blah... blah...I think I'm going to look back on that as a significant moment. We'll see.
I found out that he conveniently had a laptop and nationwide broadband- Internet via satellite in the truck, so I convinced him he needed an inverter (not hard to do!) and then began sending off Couchsurfing requests to places along I-70 west of Denver! Breckenridge... Glenwood Springs... Grand Junction... It was late, but for some reason felt pretty confident I'd find something and sure enough I got a call almost immediately from Leah in Glenwood Springs. The initial call was odd because Dennis was driving and I had to act like we had known each other and not let on that I was plotting an escape, lest I be dumped in the middle of nowhere at 9,000 feet with spring- snow falling! He was buzzed & eager to socialize with ANYTHING female, so to motivate him to get me there that night (he was talking about stopping in Eagle) I answered 'yes' when he asked "Does yer gerl have a friend?". It was like meth to his imagination- he was inspired!
From there it was a matter of keeping him on the road and talking so he wouldn't doze off. It was then that the serendipity kicked in. I figured out why he picked me up, and then had a pretty good idea why I was now heading west.
Dennis is a raging alcoholic who want to but has NO idea how to get it under control. He needed someone to talk to that had the courage to be honest with him, share ideas, and offer a clear perspective. Right up my alley! He said I was the first hitcher (even if I wasn't technically hitching- technically) that he'd picked up in "20,000 miles". Over the 5 hours or so he became almost dependent. DEFINITELY attached. I hit something he needed. Again, the conversation- as with the night before with Richard- centered on finding answers within yourself rather than Pink Floyd's "someone or something to show you the way"; or Leonard Cohen's "Waiting for the Miracle": "... and I waited half my life away..." The idea's getting clearer... He did everything he could to keep me in the truck; even in the room he rented in Glenwood. I however had had enough.
We got to Glenwood Springs about 12:30, he found a room at the Glenwood Suites, I called Leah to arrange a pickup, and leveled with him that I was a bit fed up with the Vodka and needed to move on- without him. I also burst the bubble that he was going to "hook up" with Leah's non- existent "friend". We parted ways with me giving him my cell- number, and him promising to take me to Grand Junction the next morning- which I knew would never happen and didn't.
I got to Leah's, and she has a house full! 5 other adults, and 4 kids between 3 mos. and 7. I LOVE it here! It's real... the dose of domestic reality I love. And taking me in at the last minute?? Gotta love that.
Today I began to consider hanging out in Glenwood long enough to work to get my kayak or canoe... and since the Colorado River is across the road... Bryce Canyon anyone?? Chris... Chris... Buehler...?
I need to process that and get over my ever present self- doubt and ego- watch, but there's a common theme developing even back to the pre- trip days and the conversations with Friar Chris. Now I'm trying to be receptive to see if there's a "why I'm here". I suspect I've found it, but need to think on this one. I need to be sure I'm right.
There's something weird that happens when you're out on the road like this, and it's NOT just me that gets it. Things happen at the right times, and for the right reasons. You have to be open to the possibilities and willing to act on them, fighting your fearful tendencies, culturally- indoctrinated wariness of the unknown, and taking your 'plans' & dogma and throwing them out the window. It's a challenge that's difficult to grasp at first, but the freedom is INTOXICATING! I was discussing this with my friend Amber today, who's headed to Italy to WWOOF next week, much to the chagrin of her family. Use common sense, listen to your instincts, and live. Me the arrogant philosopher after five days; get used to it I guess!
"Into the Bush"? Not so much. When I got up to I-76 at 11:30, it was as if there were some imaginary boundary I wasn't meant to cross. I discovered there were MORE tornado watches issued for Morgan County, and the rest of NE Colorado so I re-found my familiar spot under the Conoco sign advertising gas for $3.92, and waited for a ride toward Sterling, Julesburg, or ANYTHING near I-80. The thought that the weather, and my seeming inability to get out of Ft. Morgan for my third day, was making me think that perhaps I should forget Nebraska, Iowa, S. Dakota etc. and head toward Oregon now. One way or another. I figured I'd see if a ride developed while I saw how the weather would play out. I could always walk up Hwy. 52 toward W road if things cleared up later in the day, and if severe weather came through, I could get inside. In reality the weather began to go to hell. Storms moved in, a public address system that they use to announce severe weather went off, and it got COLD! Plus, the wind was incredibly strong. I found out that a tornado had in fact tried to touch down nearby, but never quite got to the ground after 3 tries. Close enough for me. It's also Memorial Day weekend, so most of the cars I saw consisted of families who had no interest in picking up timid hitchhikers. At about 6:30, with a new storm warning issued, and it getting dark, I left the gas station to seek shelter, and before I had even gotten out of the parking lot... guess what... a pickup truck hauling a large John Deere stopped across the road and offered me a ride.
West.
I asked how far he was going, and he said "almost to Utah". That was enough for me after 3 days in Ft. Morgan, so I hopped in.
The drivers name was Dennis, and he had been seriously burned I later found out in a oil well accident back in 1980. He seemed nice enough, a guy who seemed like a big talker, but I didn't get a threatening vibe at all, so didn't feel too concerned. I was certain I could whoop him if need be! But about 2 blocks up the road be let's me know that he's had a 'couple of drinks', but "not to worry". I figured, since he was headed toward the business district I'd be able to see how worried I should be rather quickly, and he was driving well, so I just went with it.
The tractor was to be dropped off in Ft. Morgan, along with two HUGE tires (pics)and, of course, he asked me to help with that- which I did. Plus, if he fell off the trailer, I'd know he was in no shape to drive! No one was left at the business, so he just dumped these two massive tires wherever they fell, left the tractor by the chain- link fence and left. He was none to happy that they had left for the weekend, because he wasn't getting paid! He attributed it to the tornadoes. I figured it was 6:30 or 7:00 on Memorial Day weekend; I wouldn't have waited either. I kept that insight to myself.
We got on I-76, and headed west- back down the same road I had ridden w/ Chris a few days earlier, and I caught myself thinking 'what a waste!', but then realized that this was going to be a part of the complete mosaic; journey not the destination thing.
On the way toward Denver, I learned that the 'couple' of what I assumed were beers were in fact huge hits from the Vodka bottle in the console! I then learned that he had JUST gotten a DUI in Oregon, and been in a minor accident after falling asleep near Eagle, and would soon be losing his CDL. GREAT!!! I began to plot ways of getting out of that truck in Denver where the surroundings were familiar, but just couldn't stand the thought so I decided to ride it out, and see where it took me. Part of the journey... part of the story... blah... blah...I think I'm going to look back on that as a significant moment. We'll see.
I found out that he conveniently had a laptop and nationwide broadband- Internet via satellite in the truck, so I convinced him he needed an inverter (not hard to do!) and then began sending off Couchsurfing requests to places along I-70 west of Denver! Breckenridge... Glenwood Springs... Grand Junction... It was late, but for some reason felt pretty confident I'd find something and sure enough I got a call almost immediately from Leah in Glenwood Springs. The initial call was odd because Dennis was driving and I had to act like we had known each other and not let on that I was plotting an escape, lest I be dumped in the middle of nowhere at 9,000 feet with spring- snow falling! He was buzzed & eager to socialize with ANYTHING female, so to motivate him to get me there that night (he was talking about stopping in Eagle) I answered 'yes' when he asked "Does yer gerl have a friend?". It was like meth to his imagination- he was inspired!
From there it was a matter of keeping him on the road and talking so he wouldn't doze off. It was then that the serendipity kicked in. I figured out why he picked me up, and then had a pretty good idea why I was now heading west.
Dennis is a raging alcoholic who want to but has NO idea how to get it under control. He needed someone to talk to that had the courage to be honest with him, share ideas, and offer a clear perspective. Right up my alley! He said I was the first hitcher (even if I wasn't technically hitching- technically) that he'd picked up in "20,000 miles". Over the 5 hours or so he became almost dependent. DEFINITELY attached. I hit something he needed. Again, the conversation- as with the night before with Richard- centered on finding answers within yourself rather than Pink Floyd's "someone or something to show you the way"; or Leonard Cohen's "Waiting for the Miracle": "... and I waited half my life away..." The idea's getting clearer... He did everything he could to keep me in the truck; even in the room he rented in Glenwood. I however had had enough.
We got to Glenwood Springs about 12:30, he found a room at the Glenwood Suites, I called Leah to arrange a pickup, and leveled with him that I was a bit fed up with the Vodka and needed to move on- without him. I also burst the bubble that he was going to "hook up" with Leah's non- existent "friend". We parted ways with me giving him my cell- number, and him promising to take me to Grand Junction the next morning- which I knew would never happen and didn't.
I got to Leah's, and she has a house full! 5 other adults, and 4 kids between 3 mos. and 7. I LOVE it here! It's real... the dose of domestic reality I love. And taking me in at the last minute?? Gotta love that.
Today I began to consider hanging out in Glenwood long enough to work to get my kayak or canoe... and since the Colorado River is across the road... Bryce Canyon anyone?? Chris... Chris... Buehler...?
I need to process that and get over my ever present self- doubt and ego- watch, but there's a common theme developing even back to the pre- trip days and the conversations with Friar Chris. Now I'm trying to be receptive to see if there's a "why I'm here". I suspect I've found it, but need to think on this one. I need to be sure I'm right.
There's something weird that happens when you're out on the road like this, and it's NOT just me that gets it. Things happen at the right times, and for the right reasons. You have to be open to the possibilities and willing to act on them, fighting your fearful tendencies, culturally- indoctrinated wariness of the unknown, and taking your 'plans' & dogma and throwing them out the window. It's a challenge that's difficult to grasp at first, but the freedom is INTOXICATING! I was discussing this with my friend Amber today, who's headed to Italy to WWOOF next week, much to the chagrin of her family. Use common sense, listen to your instincts, and live. Me the arrogant philosopher after five days; get used to it I guess!
Labels:
Colorado,
Couchsurfing,
Dennis,
Denver,
Ft. Morgan CO,
Glenwood Springs CO,
I-76,
Leah,
Synchronicity
Friday, May 23, 2008
5/23: Ft. Morgan- Homeless Shelter
DAY #4
As it turned out, the 'events of the day' were decided as soon as I walked out the door and was putting the rain fly on my pack. A woman walking into the library saw the pack, asked if I was passing thru and needed a place to get out of the weather. I saw that as a stroke of luck; the familiar right thing at the right time, so said 'yep!'. She directed me to a place called 'Caring Ministries' here in town saying they had a shelter where I could get inside for the night, and even eat some real food. I walked up there, filled out their paperwork so they could do a background check to be sure I wasn't a fugitive and then walked to the 'Chara House'. I got there an hour and a half before they opened for the day and called Chris and Eric to let them know I wasn't being taken by tornado to Oz. Chris tried to warn me off of the shelter thinking I'd be ripped off, but I looked at it as to much of a coincidence to be shown that place at THAT particular time, so I ignored it. Turns out I was right to. The people there are the types that I can relate to. None of them were 'homeless'. They were mostly just out of prison trying to put their lives back together. More of a halfway house than homeless shelter. The people there were friendly, helpful, and to a man seemed to have a realistic view on life because of where they had come from. Obviously I couldn't get to know everyone intimately because I was only there for the night, but they all were respectable human beings. It's funny, but it reminded me of some of the people I met while working as a carnie back in March. People tend to paint the pictures they want to paint of people based on stereotypes and urban legend, without getting to know anyone. I can see the look on a few (very few) peoples faces when they see me and my pack. "Get a job!"
The supervisor's name was Richard Fairchild, a local pastor who goes there just about every night from 6pm to 8am to keep an eye on things, and counsel the residents. He's a good guy, and we wound up chatting for a couple hours after everyone went to bed. I had to be careful with my comments because he struck me as a bit of a fundamentalist and didn't want to ignite a Holy War! He reminded me a bit of the guy who runs "Salvation Mountain" in "Into the Wild"... although not as "syphilis- crazy"! The conversation seemed to revolve around the occasional conflict between helping people who just wont help themselves. Responsibility etc. I found his views to be a bit contradictory because he refused to CREDIT himself for anything; attributing everything to God. Everything was externalized. Nothing he believed seemed to come from within. There seems to be a bit of a disconnect in the two viewpoints. Crediting God for everything good, yet if something bad happens, it's either unrelated to God or because we 'don't know Him'. Seems as though he wants it both ways- you can't assign blame without also being able to assign credit to the individual. This is the kind of religion that appears to appeal to those who wish to simply punish themselves in an attempt to gain the promised Paradise after death. I'm sad for those people because life's meant to be LIVED, but at the same time it's always nice to meet people who are driven to do the right thing, and are DOING it.
I may sound overly critical of him, as if this were the ONLY things we talked about, and of course they weren't. He's doing some wonderful work for very little in return. These people need the help he provides, as do the occasional nomad that wanders through! Again, it seemed that through conversation with someone, my ideas become a bit more solid. A little more of that self doubt chips away, and I'm more certain I'm on the right path. When a pastor of a church, whom you don't necessarily agree with, calls you 'intelligent, educated (ha!), and blessed', it makes you wonder.
I'm glad I stayed there last night, and I hope these people find their way-- whatever that may be. If you want to donate to them here's the address:
Chara House
attn: Richard Fairchild
110 Brush Ave.
Ft. Morgan, CO 80701
I've been in Ft. Morgan 2 1/2 days, and now it's time to move on. I suppose I'm going to pick up the ADT and head west for a bit toward Sterling. The forcast is for thunderstorms possibly popping up that way later today, but I don't mind that. As long as the tornadoes stay FARRRR away, I'm fine! I'm also thinking about heading north a bit sooner than I expected- into Nebraska then maybe South Dakota. Always wanted to see it...
A big thanks to everyone in Ft. Morgan who I ran into, especially here at the library. There are some VERY nice people up this way, and remarkably have not found ONE person who's been rude. I'm not surprised though. Chris and Gary ( www.walkingman.org ) said the same thing. People's tendencies are to be friendly and helpful, with fewer exceptions than we're led to believe.
I should point out that despite all my worries, the weather here turned out beautiful last night! It's a gorgeous morning, although a bit windy. Next stop: Sterling...but we know how that goes!
I now walk into the ... Bush.
As it turned out, the 'events of the day' were decided as soon as I walked out the door and was putting the rain fly on my pack. A woman walking into the library saw the pack, asked if I was passing thru and needed a place to get out of the weather. I saw that as a stroke of luck; the familiar right thing at the right time, so said 'yep!'. She directed me to a place called 'Caring Ministries' here in town saying they had a shelter where I could get inside for the night, and even eat some real food. I walked up there, filled out their paperwork so they could do a background check to be sure I wasn't a fugitive and then walked to the 'Chara House'. I got there an hour and a half before they opened for the day and called Chris and Eric to let them know I wasn't being taken by tornado to Oz. Chris tried to warn me off of the shelter thinking I'd be ripped off, but I looked at it as to much of a coincidence to be shown that place at THAT particular time, so I ignored it. Turns out I was right to. The people there are the types that I can relate to. None of them were 'homeless'. They were mostly just out of prison trying to put their lives back together. More of a halfway house than homeless shelter. The people there were friendly, helpful, and to a man seemed to have a realistic view on life because of where they had come from. Obviously I couldn't get to know everyone intimately because I was only there for the night, but they all were respectable human beings. It's funny, but it reminded me of some of the people I met while working as a carnie back in March. People tend to paint the pictures they want to paint of people based on stereotypes and urban legend, without getting to know anyone. I can see the look on a few (very few) peoples faces when they see me and my pack. "Get a job!"
The supervisor's name was Richard Fairchild, a local pastor who goes there just about every night from 6pm to 8am to keep an eye on things, and counsel the residents. He's a good guy, and we wound up chatting for a couple hours after everyone went to bed. I had to be careful with my comments because he struck me as a bit of a fundamentalist and didn't want to ignite a Holy War! He reminded me a bit of the guy who runs "Salvation Mountain" in "Into the Wild"... although not as "syphilis- crazy"! The conversation seemed to revolve around the occasional conflict between helping people who just wont help themselves. Responsibility etc. I found his views to be a bit contradictory because he refused to CREDIT himself for anything; attributing everything to God. Everything was externalized. Nothing he believed seemed to come from within. There seems to be a bit of a disconnect in the two viewpoints. Crediting God for everything good, yet if something bad happens, it's either unrelated to God or because we 'don't know Him'. Seems as though he wants it both ways- you can't assign blame without also being able to assign credit to the individual. This is the kind of religion that appears to appeal to those who wish to simply punish themselves in an attempt to gain the promised Paradise after death. I'm sad for those people because life's meant to be LIVED, but at the same time it's always nice to meet people who are driven to do the right thing, and are DOING it.
I may sound overly critical of him, as if this were the ONLY things we talked about, and of course they weren't. He's doing some wonderful work for very little in return. These people need the help he provides, as do the occasional nomad that wanders through! Again, it seemed that through conversation with someone, my ideas become a bit more solid. A little more of that self doubt chips away, and I'm more certain I'm on the right path. When a pastor of a church, whom you don't necessarily agree with, calls you 'intelligent, educated (ha!), and blessed', it makes you wonder.
I'm glad I stayed there last night, and I hope these people find their way-- whatever that may be. If you want to donate to them here's the address:
Chara House
attn: Richard Fairchild
110 Brush Ave.
Ft. Morgan, CO 80701
I've been in Ft. Morgan 2 1/2 days, and now it's time to move on. I suppose I'm going to pick up the ADT and head west for a bit toward Sterling. The forcast is for thunderstorms possibly popping up that way later today, but I don't mind that. As long as the tornadoes stay FARRRR away, I'm fine! I'm also thinking about heading north a bit sooner than I expected- into Nebraska then maybe South Dakota. Always wanted to see it...
A big thanks to everyone in Ft. Morgan who I ran into, especially here at the library. There are some VERY nice people up this way, and remarkably have not found ONE person who's been rude. I'm not surprised though. Chris and Gary ( www.walkingman.org ) said the same thing. People's tendencies are to be friendly and helpful, with fewer exceptions than we're led to believe.
I should point out that despite all my worries, the weather here turned out beautiful last night! It's a gorgeous morning, although a bit windy. Next stop: Sterling...but we know how that goes!
I now walk into the ... Bush.
 |
| Colorado |
Labels:
Colorado,
Ft. Morgan CO,
Homeless Shelter
Thursday, May 22, 2008
5/22: Ft. Morgan, CO
DAY #3
Today's a waiting game. Most of this part of the state and into Nebraska is under a tornado watch. It's significantly cooler here, and that wind is STILL howling. The clouds are moving in different directions depending on their heights, so I've resolved to ride it out here unless I can figure out a ride to the rest- stop near Sterling.
I've also learned that there was a tornado near Greeley this morning or early afternoon. A pretty large one that flipped semis etc. In case you don't know, Greeley was my original starting point and/ or destination because the ADT runs close to there. More severe storms are forecast for the area today, so tonight promises to be interesting. If I need to, I found a tunnel that runs beneath I-76 that will probably flood, but will protect from wind perfectly. Not TOO keen on that idea, but it's a last resort. This all makes we wonder about the wisdom of heading into the Plains. Maybe I should just head north NOW, then toward Oregon? That, by the way, has become my pseudo- destination... eventually.
I haven't done much other than tear down the site, charge the phone at the city park, and hike to the library. The REAL events of the day are yet to come...
Today's a waiting game. Most of this part of the state and into Nebraska is under a tornado watch. It's significantly cooler here, and that wind is STILL howling. The clouds are moving in different directions depending on their heights, so I've resolved to ride it out here unless I can figure out a ride to the rest- stop near Sterling.
I've also learned that there was a tornado near Greeley this morning or early afternoon. A pretty large one that flipped semis etc. In case you don't know, Greeley was my original starting point and/ or destination because the ADT runs close to there. More severe storms are forecast for the area today, so tonight promises to be interesting. If I need to, I found a tunnel that runs beneath I-76 that will probably flood, but will protect from wind perfectly. Not TOO keen on that idea, but it's a last resort. This all makes we wonder about the wisdom of heading into the Plains. Maybe I should just head north NOW, then toward Oregon? That, by the way, has become my pseudo- destination... eventually.
I haven't done much other than tear down the site, charge the phone at the city park, and hike to the library. The REAL events of the day are yet to come...
|
| Colorado |
Labels:
Colorado
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
5/21: Jackson State Park to Ft. Morgan
DAY 2:
Got up at 8:30 after sleeping on and off most of the night. Felt pretty rested though after relaxing the day before. The weather was obviously changing because the wind howled all night, and was coming directly out of the East/ SE... changing periodically. But the thing that didn't change was that it was STRONG! All day... I decided to take mt time getting out of there, and decided to hit the road at noon. I loaded up and walked for a few miles feeling pretty happy about things, especially that I was FINALLY doing this. The day was beautiful despite the headwind. Probably 80- 85 and sunny.
I got 2-3 miles up the road, took a break remembering Chris' system, and shortly after I started again a pair of elderly gentlemen who had been at the campground offered me a ride to Wiggins, which is on I-76. I had no interest in the interstate, nor the 8- mile walk back to meet up with 144; which is part of the American Discovery Trail, so I politely asked to be let out there which was MAYBE 3 miles from where the picked me up! I believe I was seen as insane, but out I went. Literally 5 minutes later, IF that long, another car stopped to offer a ride all the way to Ft. Morgan. They seemed nice, so I got in and learned that Rolondo is a pastor at a church in "Morgan" (as they called it) and has a radio show on Sundays. What a nice couple they were, and they even let me snap their picture AND dropped me at the library. I came in to play with the internet a bit, then figured out how to get back on course and headed down Main St. toward I- 76.
Here's where I MAY have made my first REAL mistake. I was intoxicated by the kindness I had already received that day, and wanted to see if it would continue, so I spontaneously decided to plant myself at the Conoco station next to the I-77 East on- ramp to see if anyone would stop. Noting at 4:30... 5:30... 6:30... By then I had learned the seriousness of the weather. There was a "Storm Team" from a TV station ... in GREEN BAY!... here. They were following some storm- chasers and thought there was a good possibility of tornadic activity here either that night or the next day. By then the realization that I just wasn't going to be offered a ride hit, and since I'd wasted 3-4 hours sitting, I'd now have to figure something out in Ft. Morgan, or on the fringes.
I had found out from the Storm Team that there was a park on the other side of I-76, so I hoofed it there and discovered that there were hiking trails that went along the S. Platte River. I followed the trails, then quickly found a suitable place to exit them and hunt around in the bush to find a place I could be concealed, and shielded from at least some of the wind... that was still blowing...
Once I found the site, I quickly set up and got inside. After I chatted w/ Shalain and while I was updating my journal, a FIERCE lightning storm came through. There was VERY little rain, which surprised me, but the lightning was constant to the point it was as if I were inside a strobe light! Keep in mind... this is my first night solo- stealth camping, so I had no idea what to expect.
Thankfully the storm was over quickly, and just as I was dozing off... VOICES!!! Are you KIDDING me?? Who the Hell would be out on a night like that... except me of course...
That spooked me a bit, because about the LAST thing I wanted was to deal with drunken vagrants or teenagers, so I hopped out of the tent and eventually deduced that they were probably up on the hiking trails. Why??? Who knows. I can tell you this though, that my initial fear and anxiety is now quickly turning to something akin to anger to solve the problems. I was more pissed off that these people were keeping me from sleeping and ready to deal with it to get some sleep! That's a good thing in my estimation.
I finally got to sleep and heard NOTHING the rest of the night...
Got up at 8:30 after sleeping on and off most of the night. Felt pretty rested though after relaxing the day before. The weather was obviously changing because the wind howled all night, and was coming directly out of the East/ SE... changing periodically. But the thing that didn't change was that it was STRONG! All day... I decided to take mt time getting out of there, and decided to hit the road at noon. I loaded up and walked for a few miles feeling pretty happy about things, especially that I was FINALLY doing this. The day was beautiful despite the headwind. Probably 80- 85 and sunny.
I got 2-3 miles up the road, took a break remembering Chris' system, and shortly after I started again a pair of elderly gentlemen who had been at the campground offered me a ride to Wiggins, which is on I-76. I had no interest in the interstate, nor the 8- mile walk back to meet up with 144; which is part of the American Discovery Trail, so I politely asked to be let out there which was MAYBE 3 miles from where the picked me up! I believe I was seen as insane, but out I went. Literally 5 minutes later, IF that long, another car stopped to offer a ride all the way to Ft. Morgan. They seemed nice, so I got in and learned that Rolondo is a pastor at a church in "Morgan" (as they called it) and has a radio show on Sundays. What a nice couple they were, and they even let me snap their picture AND dropped me at the library. I came in to play with the internet a bit, then figured out how to get back on course and headed down Main St. toward I- 76.
Here's where I MAY have made my first REAL mistake. I was intoxicated by the kindness I had already received that day, and wanted to see if it would continue, so I spontaneously decided to plant myself at the Conoco station next to the I-77 East on- ramp to see if anyone would stop. Noting at 4:30... 5:30... 6:30... By then I had learned the seriousness of the weather. There was a "Storm Team" from a TV station ... in GREEN BAY!... here. They were following some storm- chasers and thought there was a good possibility of tornadic activity here either that night or the next day. By then the realization that I just wasn't going to be offered a ride hit, and since I'd wasted 3-4 hours sitting, I'd now have to figure something out in Ft. Morgan, or on the fringes.
I had found out from the Storm Team that there was a park on the other side of I-76, so I hoofed it there and discovered that there were hiking trails that went along the S. Platte River. I followed the trails, then quickly found a suitable place to exit them and hunt around in the bush to find a place I could be concealed, and shielded from at least some of the wind... that was still blowing...
Once I found the site, I quickly set up and got inside. After I chatted w/ Shalain and while I was updating my journal, a FIERCE lightning storm came through. There was VERY little rain, which surprised me, but the lightning was constant to the point it was as if I were inside a strobe light! Keep in mind... this is my first night solo- stealth camping, so I had no idea what to expect.
Thankfully the storm was over quickly, and just as I was dozing off... VOICES!!! Are you KIDDING me?? Who the Hell would be out on a night like that... except me of course...
That spooked me a bit, because about the LAST thing I wanted was to deal with drunken vagrants or teenagers, so I hopped out of the tent and eventually deduced that they were probably up on the hiking trails. Why??? Who knows. I can tell you this though, that my initial fear and anxiety is now quickly turning to something akin to anger to solve the problems. I was more pissed off that these people were keeping me from sleeping and ready to deal with it to get some sleep! That's a good thing in my estimation.
I finally got to sleep and heard NOTHING the rest of the night...
 |
| Colorado |
Labels:
Colorado
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
5/20: Day 1- Finally on the Road.
Jackson State Park, Colorado
I'll have to be brief, as my time's running short. Chris dropped me off at Jackson Lake State Park early Tuesday morning. What is it with Tuesdays??!?!?! I immediately realized I'd left my cell phone in the car, and the rest of the day was spent trying to contact people and reading/ chilling out. The weather was perfect, and overall it was a nice, calm day. Chris drove back up from Denver, brought the cell phone, hung out briefly, and I wrote in my journal and slept.
The main thing about that day was the realization that despite my best intentions, I'm still tethered to technology more than I'd like to be. Initially, the thought of not having the cell phone was horrifying! I almost couldn't fathom not having one, then I realized my thinking was WAYYYY flawed- even if I couldn't help it! Do you ever think about just HOW dependent we are on cell phones etc.? There was a time not so long ago when people KNEW their friends phone numbers, and could rattle them off! Or at least had them written down somewhere. When I went to call someone without that phone and could remember NOT ONE NUMBER, I realized that the theory in Technopoly is dead- on: with every new technology we lose some skill and some aspect of self- reliance. Makes me wonder about how "progress" is defined! Think about how helpless we'd be if EVERY kind of technology we depend upon were to suddenly vanish. We'd be simple prey. A free man isn't a dependent one; adapt or die! We tend to look upon earlier generations as 'ignorant'. Really? Or are WE the holders of real ignorance? I'd be happy to have that debate with you.
How's that for doom & gloom?
I did alot of thinking about the bike trip as well, and how the 'first day' went so well, only to drop off the next when things got a bit challenging, and took the attitude that every challenge is part of the story. I was happy that I got to finish Don Quixote and send it back w/ Chris too. That was one other thing: about 1/2 mile down the road from the drop off I had a LONG list of the extra crap (like electric clippers) I had in my bag that I simply did NOT need! Lesson: stick to the essentials! Comfort items become uncomfortable on your back, and slow you down!
In retrospect, it was probably the best way I could have started.
I'll have to be brief, as my time's running short. Chris dropped me off at Jackson Lake State Park early Tuesday morning. What is it with Tuesdays??!?!?! I immediately realized I'd left my cell phone in the car, and the rest of the day was spent trying to contact people and reading/ chilling out. The weather was perfect, and overall it was a nice, calm day. Chris drove back up from Denver, brought the cell phone, hung out briefly, and I wrote in my journal and slept.
The main thing about that day was the realization that despite my best intentions, I'm still tethered to technology more than I'd like to be. Initially, the thought of not having the cell phone was horrifying! I almost couldn't fathom not having one, then I realized my thinking was WAYYYY flawed- even if I couldn't help it! Do you ever think about just HOW dependent we are on cell phones etc.? There was a time not so long ago when people KNEW their friends phone numbers, and could rattle them off! Or at least had them written down somewhere. When I went to call someone without that phone and could remember NOT ONE NUMBER, I realized that the theory in Technopoly is dead- on: with every new technology we lose some skill and some aspect of self- reliance. Makes me wonder about how "progress" is defined! Think about how helpless we'd be if EVERY kind of technology we depend upon were to suddenly vanish. We'd be simple prey. A free man isn't a dependent one; adapt or die! We tend to look upon earlier generations as 'ignorant'. Really? Or are WE the holders of real ignorance? I'd be happy to have that debate with you.
How's that for doom & gloom?
I did alot of thinking about the bike trip as well, and how the 'first day' went so well, only to drop off the next when things got a bit challenging, and took the attitude that every challenge is part of the story. I was happy that I got to finish Don Quixote and send it back w/ Chris too. That was one other thing: about 1/2 mile down the road from the drop off I had a LONG list of the extra crap (like electric clippers) I had in my bag that I simply did NOT need! Lesson: stick to the essentials! Comfort items become uncomfortable on your back, and slow you down!
In retrospect, it was probably the best way I could have started.
|
| Colorado |
Labels:
Colorado,
Ft. Morgan CO,
I-76,
Jackson Lake State Park CO
Thursday, April 3, 2008
4/3/08: Santa Fe- The Harvest
** If read after the previous post, you'll notice an element of redundancy here. However, this is a monumental entry. I took the previous entry and expanded on many of the most significant ideas: constructive writing at its best. Many of these conclusions will sound VERY familiar to regular followers! **- td 1/26/10
Time to process. Back from Texas and Louisiana early yesterday morning. I was gone exactly 2 weeks and an eventful packed two weeks it was. I was pretty good about writing while I was gone and wrote 12-pages in the travel journal yesterday alone, wrapping up the last weekend and the events that sent me back so soon. I won't rehash everything here, but I do need to get some ideas straight.
There are some great things that happened. I met some terrific people and more than my other trips, stuck things out and learned so much about who I have become. Perspective? Frame of reference? Call it what you want, but seeing how I am around these folks as a way of comparison to how I was -- is significant. I was a leader. Able to offer guidance and, most surprisingly, I seemed to attract people. At least certain types. Those who, like me, seem to be searching for something intangible. And the fiercely independent.
Obvious examples are Jimmy and Steve. They were two people who like me refused to just "accept" what was going on with the drug-culture in camp. Steve more so than Jimmy, although he too abhorred drugs. Steve was a guy who I really identified with; Jimmy too, but he initially seemed to come along for the ride -- an afterthought while in Odessa. I admired Steve's independence, and he reflected mine. I still regret what happened with him, although it may have been best. With all the drama in Louisiana -- he may have combusted. I've still not talked to him since we separated at the Dallas bus station, and have a nagging feeling I won't.
Jimmy turned out to be a bit of a Jekyll/Hyde. He had three distinct personalities. Wise, disconnected, drunk. The trip from Odessa to New Orleans was enjoyable, and the Easter Sunday we-three spent next to the Mississippi was -- magical. Such peace, serenity -- authenticity. At that moment, I literally thought I was already on my trip! If I had chosen, I could have been. I was ready to leave that day, and I wanted the three of us to make our way out, hoping to repeat the feelings we had that day-- everyday. I'll never forget that. It's something that set a tone for me, and I'm afraid that I've let that fade a bit. Yet, as special as that day was, it was its negativity that set the lasting metaphor for what was to come. Something beautiful and pure destroyed by its environment; the negativity. Tricia and I both noticed it when we left the levee, crossed the road, and reentered camp: the magic vanished. More than vanished. It was replaced in kind by something black. As good as it was by the river, it was equally as bad in camp. That, for the most part, never ended and I saw it to the extreme that last day with the kitten.
Tricia could never break free from it. She's used to it, and doesn't know how to exist outside of it.
James? It led him to just drink to try to figure it out. He was like me, though -- experiencing everything and trying to solve it.
Jimmy? I'm not sure. He wasn't the same after that Sunday -- although there were glimpses. He seemed to disengage. Maybe he felt what I did, and that was his way of protecting himself from it? But, from what I saw that last Monday, then heard on the phone from James last night, he's not dealing -- but drinking. I couldn't communicate with him before I left on Monday due to the whiskey, although I could tell he was upset I was leaving. It came on so quickly -- no advance warning -- even to myself. I hope he's okay and things go well for him, but I'm unconvinced that they will. He has demons I can't comprehend. Jimmy's a vast resource of wisdom, but also an obvious alcoholic. I could go no further with him, and hypocritical or not, couldn't deal with him drunk. That friendship could've gone a great deal further, but as it turned out, we were "like minds running parallel for a while." I gave him my number and hope I hear from him again. I'm pretty sure I won't. I wish him well.
Tricia was frustrating. But, I was naive. I found something beautiful in her on Easter, but never saw it on full display again. I'd see glimpses, as with Jimmy, but she'd always revert back to her comfortable perch. We would have long conversations and I would try to offer insights from my own experience, sincerely trying to help but eventually I came to a significant conclusion; one that's elementary and one that's plagued me:
***Taking your opportunities and doing something with them. Having a willingness to act; do a bit more than complaining. I equate it to a combination of following The Voice and freewill. The Voice only guides; it's up to you to do something with it. Waiting for passive enlightenment? You'll wait forever. Enlightenment is like wisdom v. knowledge (Thamus). You achieve enlightenment ONLY through action and experience; masturbation-- mental or otherwise-- conceives nothing. Enlightenment doesn't come via writing, talking, reading... these things offer tools to guide you to action, but without action they're nothing but nice ideas. Pretty, clever, contrived words. Words without action are like an owner's manual without a car. What are you supposed to do? Pretend you're driving? Action and experience is infinitely more important than idle words. My ideas served me well on this trip. Very well. Yet, without the action aspect of learning ? I'd still be sitting here... wondering.***
I saw this unwillingness to act in Tricia, and got to the point were I concluded it was hopeless. She didn't want to do what it took to live in that "energy" we found by the levee that day; she didn't believe she could. Maybe a seed was planted, and maybe someday she will. She's one of the few, yet still significant percentage who are ... I'll no longer call it enlightened... "touched?" They just feel it, and can access it when the environment is right. I believe Steve is touched. Jimmy. James. I was gone for 14 days, and found four in the first four days! Any of which could have shared my experience; in fact they were.
These are the people I seek and keep finding, and what's more: they respond. To be honest, I wasn't exactly prepared for that! I thought that this may likely be a lonely journey. Finding as many as I did, coupled with some heightened sense of confidence, boldness, even courage... I felt like a pillar of strength for once, as arrogant as that sounds. Teflon. I was content to, even enjoyed, sitting alone rather than subjugating myself to those who either expected subjugation or I didn't respect.
And the honesty! Timmy was a great example. I told him, bluntly, that I neither liked nor wanted to hang out with him. I did so on his prompting and in front of his people. I walked it. He had no clue what to say, do, or how to handle me because I wasn't to be "handled." I haven't quite put it all together, but I've found something. Tapped into it. I need to build on it; be unafraid to blaze that trail, alone if necessary.That's what I really gained from this. Knowing my ideas or solid, they apply to masses; the experience as a whole gave me this. Not philosophizing. Experience: McCandless's "essence of life." I wonder what this experience would've been in a positive environment? One in which the beauty in life wasn't squashed by overwhelming negativity.The insights would have been skewed. Likely, it all happened as it should.
I became overwhelmed when the trailer dropped on the kitten. That devastated me. I had known for a few days that my time there was ending, but had resolved to try to last through Baton Rouge. I was thrilled to find that kitten scampering around, and got lost playing with her. She was a very sweet cat that loved people and brought in the first real, pure joy and beauty since the river. I was happy, tuned in and reminded of home and my own cats. Then out of nowhere, the Kraken attacks. Suddenly I saw her pinned beneath the trailer, crying horrifically, then running as though her back was broken. I still can't describe what I felt. Horror. I couldn't cope with that. In some odd way, it was like seeing Gage hit by the truck in Pet Semetery. When I heard the others running fugitive rather than help, and worrying more about how Dave would react rather than trying to help his pet survive, I became sickened, disgusted, and had to get away from there. When Chris said, "It's time to snap its neck" I wanted to snap his. I was literally frightened of myself. Are these fucking people human? My conclusion: no.
Once I announced I was leaving, Jimmy said, if I left. I'd be "in danger." Of course, he was lit up. Tricia also said she had a "bad feeling" too, but couldn't explain it. I think they were feeling their own premonitions. James called last night and told me that Jimmy has been drunk since I left and was "pissing people off." I felt a bit uneasy about the decision until we are on the way to Greyhound and it occurred that the cat was a powerful metaphor. It may not have been just that, but it brought home the vision of everything pure, and beautiful being crushed. Tricia, The River, Jimmy, James... I tried to convey the thought but failed miserably.
With this, I knew I was making the right choice. I was touched by the fact that Tricia, James, Toby, Chris, and Gabby all rode with me to Greyhound. The ride was a bit odd, and departure anti-climatic. Tricia was upset that I didn't give her my number, but something told me not to. I really do not want her drama following me, especially when she refuses to handle it herself.
The bus home was a mixed bag. Of course, the vision and feelings about the cat were there, but also some good feelings about my personal revelations. The strongest feelings, and they still linger today, were about the cat. I see her happy eyes, hear her purr, see her playing... jumping at that damn stick. Then I see that trailer crushing her. I see her running cockeyed. I see her lying beneath that trailer. I cursed any "God" who would let something like that happen. I still can't reconcile it. I know it was an accident; a terrible one, but I hate it to my core. I don't even remember anything affecting me like that on 9/11! What does that say?!? It's because of the cat's innocence; its joy. It's since become obvious that perhaps I should consider getting involved rescuing... cats? Duh! I love the things for whatever reason, and always have.
I can also say that after Texas & Louisiana, I appreciate the tranquility here much more. "He wants his home and security... he wants to live like a sailor and sea." Since returning, I've been questioning the hiking trip-- that's not good. It's going to rear its head again sooner or later. I feel as though I'm a short step from being able to settle down a bit and I hate what leaving does to Shalain, even though I can't help it: the alternative is no option. I'm not in a place to parse-then-expand that thought just yet, but rest assured the next few pages should be good readin'. I feel at ease here, and know things are about to change for the better -- one way or another.
I'm supposed to know something from Michigan [job] in the next week or so, and the weather is warming up nicely. I don't know exactly what's going to happen, but this year's adventures have probably only just begun. The bus trip, other than the image-induced mental torture, was pretty uneventful. I met an interesting guy from Texas named Dan. He's 57 and spent 20 years as a cop. He reminded me of Clint Hurdle. Dan seems to be a typical Texas conservative; voted Bush twice! Yet -- amazingly our views were similar. We spent the two or three hours from Dallas to Wichita Falls chatting about life, politics, and the coming economic disaster. My "impending doom." I really enjoyed the conversation; it solidified to me that truth owes no ideology. Is bound by no doctrine. I was glad to have had that talk, and again felt better about my experience and my ideas.
Yet again -- an example of testing ideas through experience. Maybe I have indeed finally turned that page? Idea v. Experience. Is it knowledge to wisdom? Or, simply data to knowledge?
This was far different from my other little expeditions. I'm now not exactly sure how to approach the next phase, but considering I've written almost 7-pages on this, and have come out of this feeling much better, it would seem silly to stop now. The job in Michigan won't last long. Long enough to take care of things: gear up, and depart.
I must do this. If I don't, I'll never find peace. It may indeed kill me, but if it does rest assured it's better than living with the turmoil and sense of dissatisfaction. If I come out the other side, and do it right, I may indeed be able to focus on a family. If I don't do this? I don't believe, even despite this current state of calm, that anyone will ever be able to rely on me. I can't help that, therefore I refuse to beat myself up for it. It simply must happen. I'm seeking that "peace of the river." Calm. The inner tranquility that comes from acceptance of myself and my life. The beauty and purity of the cat. I have all of these elements in this house, and I know it. Yet -- I need inner peace to be able to be that kind of entity myself. I'm getting closer, and may have just taken a nice jump in the right direction. We'll see...
Labels:
Backstory,
Carnival Job
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
4/2/08: Baton Rouge- The Cat
Saturday was a rather long, boring day. We started at noon and ran rides all day, until 10 pm. We were up late Friday drinking beer and chatting with Tricia, Toby, Andy, and James. We all seemed to relish the idea that there was no drama to deal with. It was a nice night. I finally got to bed around 3:30 or so.
The 10:00 close was a bit of a surprise, but really no big deal. The crowd was sketchy, but picked up toward the evening because of some on/ off rain earlier. I got to bed early both because I was tired and Sunday was tear-down day, after we had already worked all day. The worst day of every week. The Carnie life is indeed for me...
Sunday was interesting. I was ready to leave then. I woke up ornery and fed-up. I called Shalain, Brian, and Joey and tried to get as much info as I could. I found that I am still supposedly "on track" for the job in Kalamazoo. Shalain and I decided, in a roundabout way, that I would try to stick out another week, since Monday through Wednesday would be easy -- with the exception of set up in Baton Rouge. I also discussed possibly getting my little group together -- Toby, Gabby, Jimmy, James, and Tricia -- to join a group out in California. That sounded good, but the idea in the end went nowhere.
Tear down was long, hard, frustrating... and encouraging. Reminded me of my boot camp days: working through exhaustion. Jimmy, Andy, and I tore down the Merry-Go-Round in five hours or so... then had to help other slackers... despite the fact that ours was by far the hardest and most complicated of any of them. We finally finished around 3 am. I went straight to bed, but as tired as I was, had trouble getting to sleep. My body seemed to hold up well, although I was definitely sore.
We all slept in Monday, bummed around for a few hours, then finally got the bunkhouses prepped and jumped from Ethel to south Baton Rouge -- about an hour down the road. I was still envisioning at least getting through the week, but the first seed to leave was planted when I got "paid" before we left Ethel. I got a whopping $126. I had taken $75 in "draws," was charged $25 for my shirt, and taxed $60. It could have been worse I guess, and had no real logical complaints about the pay, until I thought about the hours put in to get it!
There was a touch of drama Sunday with Willie after hearing a rumor that we were "renting" our bunkhouses; twinges of Odessa. He and I resolved it quickly, it was just typical camp-bullshit. I also addressed my problems with Timmy and discovered he was, in Willie's words, an "errand boy" despite his claims to be a "supervisor!" More shrapnel to throw at him. I never liked Timmy because of his mouth and underhanded nature and, despite his posturing as someone important, I never had a problem telling him so. No one else dared to force his hand, and he just couldn't figure that out; he never knew how to approach me. More on that in a bit.
I discovered a lot about myself by way of perspective. How far I've really come, and how I can influence people and have impact when I'm focused. I'm not so diluted to say that influence was significant, but I noticed that people gravitated to me -- despite my perceived "rudeness!" Much more needs to be processed in my other journal. Not the time yet.
I really enjoyed my conversations with Jimmy when he was sober, although after we got to Ethel. He seemed to disconnect. James and I seemed to connect pretty well also, and had some deep, philosophical conversations. Amazing to find a guy with a biology degree in that setting. He was the most like me, admitted to alcohol problems and is, or least was, guarded. I'd be interested to see what happens with him.
Monday was a day that was disturbing for lack of a better term today. It rattled me, and exposed a raw nerve.
We got to Baton Rouge, and of course things were typically dragging along. Trouble getting the electricity and water going so people were going to the stores, sitting around, killing time. Typical. I didn't like the vibe from the start. Not something I can explain, but we were adjacent to the projects, set up the dirt, and other crews were showing up periodically.
A guy named Dave, who was at Winter Quarters in New Orleans was here and had brought his two young cats with him. I was very happy to see them running around! It was something nice, pure, and real in what was a toxic environment thriving on negativity. I started playing with one of them, a very energetic and friendly calico who loved playing with a stick I had found. The other one was a dark gray with tinges of orange and, like the calico, had his tail clipped. This gray was skittish, but was warming up to me when one of the most horrible and disturbing things I have ever seen happened. It pains me to think, let alone write, about it and -- I hate repeating myself -- still disturbs me whenever I even think about it.
The kittens had taken a break, and I was sitting against a chain-link fence chatting. When James sat down on the lemonade trailer in front of me. The trailer wasn't on blocks, and when someone sat on the back edge it would tip on its wheels -- and hit the ground. The calico kitten was underneath and the trailer's rear edge -- loaded with the lemonade stand -- landed flush across her back/mid-section.I heard her howl, people yell, then lifted the trailer. The kitten took off running, but not... running. She could not coordinate her front and back legs and ran with her rear legs cockeyed; nearly 45-degrees to one side. She seemed at first as though her back was broken.
I'd never felt what I felt at that moment. I couldn't deal with it. I remember yelling, "God fucking dammit!" and, "No! No! No!" I felt it in my lungs, stomach; all through my body. I don't even know what "it" was. It was just something I... couldn't handle. I was just playing with her, getting attached, and enjoying something... pure. Then, that place almost literally killed it. It was the same as Easter Sunday by the river: it seemed to have a way of brutally destroying anything positive.
I pulled myself together and found the cat lying beneath the lemonade stand's trailer having difficulty breathing... and crying. Then came what finally drove me out of this place. People running away like children! They acted as if they were kids who busted the neighbor's window! "Let's get to the store! Let's get out of here! We didn't see anything! He's gonna flip!" When I heard Chris say, "it's time to snap its neck" I about snapped myself. I said nothing because by then it occurred to me that, after seeing her run, she may not have broken her back, but perhaps ribs and needed a vet. When Chris reached to grab her, I told him to "get the fuck away from her" then tried to rally people to get her to a veterinarian. Then, the final straw: Andy bitching about who's going to pay the bill! I forget who, but someone took control, got a milk crate, and got into the van to supposedly find a vet, but it was 6 pm and no one knew anything about Baton Rouge. How were they going to find a vet? They weren't.
That was it.
I called Shalain and talk it over with her. What I just seen, the realization of how little money I was able to save -- and the disgust I felt for "these people" after this -- I was leaving. She agreed, checked the schedules, and we decided I would leave on a 12:30 am bus from Baton Rouge that night. I went over to the football field adjacent to camp to talk to Jimmy, who was drinking Jim Beam and already annihilated. I wish he hadn't been. I couldn't talk to him when he was drunk. He tried to talk me out of leaving for his own reasons; had he been sober he would've understood. I talked to Willie right after, and he was very cool about it, giving me $25 for my shirt, but no money for Monday. Not that I did anything anyhow!
I went back to the bunkhouse and started sorting, packing, and since we had just been paid... selling shit. I sold my Merrill hiking shoes to Andy for $20, by old, comfy Nike running shoes for $10, and left some work jeans and other odds and ends for Jimmy. The pack was seven or 8 pounds lighter than what I arrived, and I was glad. As the word spread that I was leaving, people are asking why, but I was unable to really explain it. I just kept saying, "I have to." I would hit on it later, on the way to the Greyhound station. But, at the time, I just wanted out. It was actually a nice two or three hours waiting to leave. It felt good, despite the immediate reasons behind it. I asked Gabby to drive me into Baton Rouge, instead of Timmy, and she agreed. I was beyond grateful, and I'm sure Timmy was, too! Then, James asked if he could go, and of course Tricia came. Toby and Chris too. We left Jimmy behind because he was too obliterated.
The atmosphere in the van was a quieter than I expected, but no one had a lot, or knew what, to say. It occurred to me, as I mentioned, what had happened, or at least how it hit me. The cat was not only a personally perceived tragedy, but a metaphor for the whole place and the energy it attracts. It seemed to kill anything good, gentle, and/or real; allowed nothing positive to thrive. I'm reminded of the day by the river with Tricia and Jimmy. We were all at peace until we crossed that road, and all of that positive energy was instantaneously replaced by something sinister. We even noticed it in the moment and commented on it. We were never able to get around or through it. When I saw the kitten hurt, after bringing some joy into that camp, and my world, for a while -- I couldn't be immersed in it any longer.
When we finally got to the bus station, I was struck that these people had wanted to ride into Baton Rouge, not for the road trip, but to see me off! I was touched by that, particularly because of my history with people over the last few years, but I politely refused to give Tricia my phone number. That upset her great deal. As cruel as it may be, I don't think I want to deal with her. She's a great person who is lost in her mind; lost in her world, and wants to stay there. She's afraid to step out of it. I really don't want the drunken phone calls in the middle of the night, or any of that. I may call her in a week or two to see how she's doing. We'll see. I did however give my number to James, to keep one line of communication open.
The ride out of Baton Rouge was weird. That vision of the cat, and that I later saw her with Patches -- wheezing -- because they couldn't, or wouldn't, try to find a veterinarian, hit me hard.
Then, I started thinking about the friendships I had developed in the two weeks I was gone, and more importantly -- why. Some names to remember: Andy -- the insane, wanted felon. Bob -- the basketball-game guy. Jason -- Timmy's boyfriend, and really a decent guy. Brandi -- the obese, slutty, 18-year-old idiot, who talks like a retarded racist. I never did get ahold of Steve in Oklahoma. May not, but I'd love to know how he's doing.
From Baton Rouge, we went to Houston then Dallas. I met a very interesting guy at the Dallas Greyhound who reminded me a bit of Clint Hurdle, of all people. He was 57, from north-central Texas, and heading to Roswell on business. We talked about many of things, mostly the failing economy, on our ride from Dallas to Wichita Falls. I found it interesting that I could relate to a Texas conservative who spent 20 years as a cop just as well, if not better, than the hippies I have run into! He even shared many of my views on life, technology, sociology, etc.. These ideas are not ideology. I wish I could have spent more time chatting with him. He reminded me of what Jimmy kept saying: "listen to the older folks, heed your elders." I'm glad I met him. His name was Dan.
Not much on the hike again today, but that's not done. In fact, I'm now much more confident about it, and need to see what happens with Kalamazoo. An interesting experience comes to a close. Glad I did it.
The 10:00 close was a bit of a surprise, but really no big deal. The crowd was sketchy, but picked up toward the evening because of some on/ off rain earlier. I got to bed early both because I was tired and Sunday was tear-down day, after we had already worked all day. The worst day of every week. The Carnie life is indeed for me...
Sunday was interesting. I was ready to leave then. I woke up ornery and fed-up. I called Shalain, Brian, and Joey and tried to get as much info as I could. I found that I am still supposedly "on track" for the job in Kalamazoo. Shalain and I decided, in a roundabout way, that I would try to stick out another week, since Monday through Wednesday would be easy -- with the exception of set up in Baton Rouge. I also discussed possibly getting my little group together -- Toby, Gabby, Jimmy, James, and Tricia -- to join a group out in California. That sounded good, but the idea in the end went nowhere.
Tear down was long, hard, frustrating... and encouraging. Reminded me of my boot camp days: working through exhaustion. Jimmy, Andy, and I tore down the Merry-Go-Round in five hours or so... then had to help other slackers... despite the fact that ours was by far the hardest and most complicated of any of them. We finally finished around 3 am. I went straight to bed, but as tired as I was, had trouble getting to sleep. My body seemed to hold up well, although I was definitely sore.
We all slept in Monday, bummed around for a few hours, then finally got the bunkhouses prepped and jumped from Ethel to south Baton Rouge -- about an hour down the road. I was still envisioning at least getting through the week, but the first seed to leave was planted when I got "paid" before we left Ethel. I got a whopping $126. I had taken $75 in "draws," was charged $25 for my shirt, and taxed $60. It could have been worse I guess, and had no real logical complaints about the pay, until I thought about the hours put in to get it!
There was a touch of drama Sunday with Willie after hearing a rumor that we were "renting" our bunkhouses; twinges of Odessa. He and I resolved it quickly, it was just typical camp-bullshit. I also addressed my problems with Timmy and discovered he was, in Willie's words, an "errand boy" despite his claims to be a "supervisor!" More shrapnel to throw at him. I never liked Timmy because of his mouth and underhanded nature and, despite his posturing as someone important, I never had a problem telling him so. No one else dared to force his hand, and he just couldn't figure that out; he never knew how to approach me. More on that in a bit.
I discovered a lot about myself by way of perspective. How far I've really come, and how I can influence people and have impact when I'm focused. I'm not so diluted to say that influence was significant, but I noticed that people gravitated to me -- despite my perceived "rudeness!" Much more needs to be processed in my other journal. Not the time yet.
I really enjoyed my conversations with Jimmy when he was sober, although after we got to Ethel. He seemed to disconnect. James and I seemed to connect pretty well also, and had some deep, philosophical conversations. Amazing to find a guy with a biology degree in that setting. He was the most like me, admitted to alcohol problems and is, or least was, guarded. I'd be interested to see what happens with him.
Monday was a day that was disturbing for lack of a better term today. It rattled me, and exposed a raw nerve.
We got to Baton Rouge, and of course things were typically dragging along. Trouble getting the electricity and water going so people were going to the stores, sitting around, killing time. Typical. I didn't like the vibe from the start. Not something I can explain, but we were adjacent to the projects, set up the dirt, and other crews were showing up periodically.
A guy named Dave, who was at Winter Quarters in New Orleans was here and had brought his two young cats with him. I was very happy to see them running around! It was something nice, pure, and real in what was a toxic environment thriving on negativity. I started playing with one of them, a very energetic and friendly calico who loved playing with a stick I had found. The other one was a dark gray with tinges of orange and, like the calico, had his tail clipped. This gray was skittish, but was warming up to me when one of the most horrible and disturbing things I have ever seen happened. It pains me to think, let alone write, about it and -- I hate repeating myself -- still disturbs me whenever I even think about it.
The kittens had taken a break, and I was sitting against a chain-link fence chatting. When James sat down on the lemonade trailer in front of me. The trailer wasn't on blocks, and when someone sat on the back edge it would tip on its wheels -- and hit the ground. The calico kitten was underneath and the trailer's rear edge -- loaded with the lemonade stand -- landed flush across her back/mid-section.I heard her howl, people yell, then lifted the trailer. The kitten took off running, but not... running. She could not coordinate her front and back legs and ran with her rear legs cockeyed; nearly 45-degrees to one side. She seemed at first as though her back was broken.
I'd never felt what I felt at that moment. I couldn't deal with it. I remember yelling, "God fucking dammit!" and, "No! No! No!" I felt it in my lungs, stomach; all through my body. I don't even know what "it" was. It was just something I... couldn't handle. I was just playing with her, getting attached, and enjoying something... pure. Then, that place almost literally killed it. It was the same as Easter Sunday by the river: it seemed to have a way of brutally destroying anything positive.
I pulled myself together and found the cat lying beneath the lemonade stand's trailer having difficulty breathing... and crying. Then came what finally drove me out of this place. People running away like children! They acted as if they were kids who busted the neighbor's window! "Let's get to the store! Let's get out of here! We didn't see anything! He's gonna flip!" When I heard Chris say, "it's time to snap its neck" I about snapped myself. I said nothing because by then it occurred to me that, after seeing her run, she may not have broken her back, but perhaps ribs and needed a vet. When Chris reached to grab her, I told him to "get the fuck away from her" then tried to rally people to get her to a veterinarian. Then, the final straw: Andy bitching about who's going to pay the bill! I forget who, but someone took control, got a milk crate, and got into the van to supposedly find a vet, but it was 6 pm and no one knew anything about Baton Rouge. How were they going to find a vet? They weren't.
That was it.
I called Shalain and talk it over with her. What I just seen, the realization of how little money I was able to save -- and the disgust I felt for "these people" after this -- I was leaving. She agreed, checked the schedules, and we decided I would leave on a 12:30 am bus from Baton Rouge that night. I went over to the football field adjacent to camp to talk to Jimmy, who was drinking Jim Beam and already annihilated. I wish he hadn't been. I couldn't talk to him when he was drunk. He tried to talk me out of leaving for his own reasons; had he been sober he would've understood. I talked to Willie right after, and he was very cool about it, giving me $25 for my shirt, but no money for Monday. Not that I did anything anyhow!
I went back to the bunkhouse and started sorting, packing, and since we had just been paid... selling shit. I sold my Merrill hiking shoes to Andy for $20, by old, comfy Nike running shoes for $10, and left some work jeans and other odds and ends for Jimmy. The pack was seven or 8 pounds lighter than what I arrived, and I was glad. As the word spread that I was leaving, people are asking why, but I was unable to really explain it. I just kept saying, "I have to." I would hit on it later, on the way to the Greyhound station. But, at the time, I just wanted out. It was actually a nice two or three hours waiting to leave. It felt good, despite the immediate reasons behind it. I asked Gabby to drive me into Baton Rouge, instead of Timmy, and she agreed. I was beyond grateful, and I'm sure Timmy was, too! Then, James asked if he could go, and of course Tricia came. Toby and Chris too. We left Jimmy behind because he was too obliterated.
The atmosphere in the van was a quieter than I expected, but no one had a lot, or knew what, to say. It occurred to me, as I mentioned, what had happened, or at least how it hit me. The cat was not only a personally perceived tragedy, but a metaphor for the whole place and the energy it attracts. It seemed to kill anything good, gentle, and/or real; allowed nothing positive to thrive. I'm reminded of the day by the river with Tricia and Jimmy. We were all at peace until we crossed that road, and all of that positive energy was instantaneously replaced by something sinister. We even noticed it in the moment and commented on it. We were never able to get around or through it. When I saw the kitten hurt, after bringing some joy into that camp, and my world, for a while -- I couldn't be immersed in it any longer.
When we finally got to the bus station, I was struck that these people had wanted to ride into Baton Rouge, not for the road trip, but to see me off! I was touched by that, particularly because of my history with people over the last few years, but I politely refused to give Tricia my phone number. That upset her great deal. As cruel as it may be, I don't think I want to deal with her. She's a great person who is lost in her mind; lost in her world, and wants to stay there. She's afraid to step out of it. I really don't want the drunken phone calls in the middle of the night, or any of that. I may call her in a week or two to see how she's doing. We'll see. I did however give my number to James, to keep one line of communication open.
The ride out of Baton Rouge was weird. That vision of the cat, and that I later saw her with Patches -- wheezing -- because they couldn't, or wouldn't, try to find a veterinarian, hit me hard.
Then, I started thinking about the friendships I had developed in the two weeks I was gone, and more importantly -- why. Some names to remember: Andy -- the insane, wanted felon. Bob -- the basketball-game guy. Jason -- Timmy's boyfriend, and really a decent guy. Brandi -- the obese, slutty, 18-year-old idiot, who talks like a retarded racist. I never did get ahold of Steve in Oklahoma. May not, but I'd love to know how he's doing.
From Baton Rouge, we went to Houston then Dallas. I met a very interesting guy at the Dallas Greyhound who reminded me a bit of Clint Hurdle, of all people. He was 57, from north-central Texas, and heading to Roswell on business. We talked about many of things, mostly the failing economy, on our ride from Dallas to Wichita Falls. I found it interesting that I could relate to a Texas conservative who spent 20 years as a cop just as well, if not better, than the hippies I have run into! He even shared many of my views on life, technology, sociology, etc.. These ideas are not ideology. I wish I could have spent more time chatting with him. He reminded me of what Jimmy kept saying: "listen to the older folks, heed your elders." I'm glad I met him. His name was Dan.
Not much on the hike again today, but that's not done. In fact, I'm now much more confident about it, and need to see what happens with Kalamazoo. An interesting experience comes to a close. Glad I did it.
Labels:
Backstory,
Baton Rouge LA,
Carnival Job,
Dallas TX,
Greyhound,
Jimmy,
Louisiana,
Texas
Friday, March 28, 2008
3/28/08: Ethel, LA- The Carnie Life
Been gone 10 days already. It's been a week since we all left Odessa. Time has compressed; a lot happens in a short space of time. I feel like I've known Jimmy for six months or a year, and it's only been barely a week. Tricia -- same thing. I feel as though we've run a full two-month cycle in six days. When you're in each other's face all day I guess that happens.
I can see how a person could lose track of days, weeks, even months out here. I haven't watched TV or listened to a radio since I left; have no idea what's going on-- anywhere. This is the world to these folks and it's not a bad way to live once you adapt. I think the trick is finding balance in the sense that you remember: this isn't the world! It is easy to get caught up in the camp-drama, which is worse when everyone's idle. Once we start working people get focused on other things and forget, for the moment, all the bullshit.
The mix of people is interesting. Convicts, punks, philosophers, thinkers, feelers, recluses. It's a challenge for many of them to mesh and get along, but although the "dogs bark," they seem to work it out. There really are no leaders, work or otherwise, among this crew; Willie is the foundation and a rocksolid one. He's the lighthouse that provides guidance for many of these fragile types who easily stray off course. I learned that he provided dental work for one of them; could never see Charles doing that.
Tuesday's set-up wiped me out! I wasn't feeling great to begin with, and hauling the heavy pieces for the Merry-Go-Round pushed me. My back held up and was nothing more than stiff on Wednesday. We finished setting up Wednesday, tweaked a couple things yesterday, then a much anticipated laundry/Wal-Mart run. I needed socks, Motrin, and some aloe for this vicious sunburn on my neck. After resting up for a bit, we opened at five o'clock yesterday. I was on a kiddie ride: The Berry- Go- Round. It was easy -- even boring. Lotsa single moms to chat with; a few even had teeth!
What struck me was the people. Louisiana is a very friendly and polite state. The poverty here is striking, yet the people have an air of both frustration and happiness. Resignation, yet acceptance. That was only one day, of course, and may change. But it's something I repeatedly noticed. The poverty, especially. Kids offering to work, in exchange for free rides! (They got quite a few) Calling me "sir!" It's pretty obvious that this is a huge event out here, as small as our outfit really is. We are situated on the grounds of a church camp that I learned is for the kids "no other churches want." Drugs... what ever. The pastor is a Vietnam vet who seems to view the government the same way I do, and intensely feels social injustice. I immensely enjoyed hearing him talk -- almost rant.
My time here will depend on me. The work is easy most of the time, and I'm adapting more each day. I'm afraid I won't save much money, though, so if the chance at [the supposed job in] Michigan comes, I'll probably take it. I'm in cruise control about the hike since Sunday. It still is the long-term vision. Need to refocus on that...
I can see how a person could lose track of days, weeks, even months out here. I haven't watched TV or listened to a radio since I left; have no idea what's going on-- anywhere. This is the world to these folks and it's not a bad way to live once you adapt. I think the trick is finding balance in the sense that you remember: this isn't the world! It is easy to get caught up in the camp-drama, which is worse when everyone's idle. Once we start working people get focused on other things and forget, for the moment, all the bullshit.
The mix of people is interesting. Convicts, punks, philosophers, thinkers, feelers, recluses. It's a challenge for many of them to mesh and get along, but although the "dogs bark," they seem to work it out. There really are no leaders, work or otherwise, among this crew; Willie is the foundation and a rocksolid one. He's the lighthouse that provides guidance for many of these fragile types who easily stray off course. I learned that he provided dental work for one of them; could never see Charles doing that.
Tuesday's set-up wiped me out! I wasn't feeling great to begin with, and hauling the heavy pieces for the Merry-Go-Round pushed me. My back held up and was nothing more than stiff on Wednesday. We finished setting up Wednesday, tweaked a couple things yesterday, then a much anticipated laundry/Wal-Mart run. I needed socks, Motrin, and some aloe for this vicious sunburn on my neck. After resting up for a bit, we opened at five o'clock yesterday. I was on a kiddie ride: The Berry- Go- Round. It was easy -- even boring. Lotsa single moms to chat with; a few even had teeth!
What struck me was the people. Louisiana is a very friendly and polite state. The poverty here is striking, yet the people have an air of both frustration and happiness. Resignation, yet acceptance. That was only one day, of course, and may change. But it's something I repeatedly noticed. The poverty, especially. Kids offering to work, in exchange for free rides! (They got quite a few) Calling me "sir!" It's pretty obvious that this is a huge event out here, as small as our outfit really is. We are situated on the grounds of a church camp that I learned is for the kids "no other churches want." Drugs... what ever. The pastor is a Vietnam vet who seems to view the government the same way I do, and intensely feels social injustice. I immensely enjoyed hearing him talk -- almost rant.
My time here will depend on me. The work is easy most of the time, and I'm adapting more each day. I'm afraid I won't save much money, though, so if the chance at [the supposed job in] Michigan comes, I'll probably take it. I'm in cruise control about the hike since Sunday. It still is the long-term vision. Need to refocus on that...
Labels:
Backstory,
Carnival Job,
Ethel LA,
Louisiana
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