tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2215456591378774722024-02-06T21:25:18.178-08:00The DragonWagonDragonWagonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10258103841458167822noreply@blogger.comBlogger14125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-221545659137877472.post-67639756633075269602015-08-29T16:14:00.000-07:002015-08-29T16:14:01.873-07:00HappyTrailsPt1<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 36.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">HAPPY
TRAILS<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<h4>
<b><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Part 1</span></span></b></h4>
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DEPARTURE FROM THE RAINBOW</div>
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Leaving
the Rainbow Gathering was chaotic. The disassembly of the Bear Necessities
Kitchen was unorganized and poorly executed. We did the best we could,
shuttling supplies from the woods to Baloo's trailer and other various
vehicles, but no one really knew what went where. Happy had volunteered his RV
to carry extra food and cooking supplies, but his space was limited. Other
people were bringing out trash bags full of garbage and random camping
equipment left behind. The dirt road alongside the woods was lined with trash
on either side. There were piles of junk ranging from food to camping
equipment, plus a variety of indistinguishable trash. Some people weren't even
helping to bring things out, but rather rummaging through the garbage for
edible food or usable items. Baloo's trailer was past what I might have
considered its capacity, yet more stuff kept being brought out. It seemed like
we were never getting out of there.</div>
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<o:p> </o:p> Happy
eventually made the decision that it was time to leave. We loaded the last of
the kitchen supplies he was willing to take, then it was time to pack in our
own gear. I emptied out my wagon, and we strapped it to the back of the RV,
resting on the trailer hitch, tying it to the spare tire. It wasn't ideal, but
it would work well enough. There were going to be seven of us riding in Happy's
RV, which was ideally meant for a maximum of four to six people. We stashed
rucksacks and supplies where ever we could fit them, filling up the sleeping
area above the driver's cab, stuffing the bathroom up, and cramming the rest
into the shower. The RV was bursting at the seams and just about scraping the
ground. We loaded up our crew. It was Happy driving, myself as the copilot, and
in the back we had the skeleton crew for Bear Necessities, Bo, Ryan, Cody,
Denny, and Sean. We were ready to roll out. We were on the move, and Happy
stopped by Baloo's trailer to say goodbye. Bad move. They were still struggling
to get the last of the gear out of the woods and into the trailer, and Baloo
gave Happy a guilt trip about "leaving early." When it seemed we
weren't getting out of it, we jumped out, and helped bring the last few things
out. We jammed what we could into nooks and crannies of the trailer, and then
loaded back into the RV. Before Happy managed to get the RV out of park, he was
given a guilt trip by Baloo's daughter, Tessa, for a ride into town. Happy
insisted that we were well past capacity, but they persisted, assuring him that
there was no one else who could take them, that they'd be stranded, and that it
was just into the nearest town. Happy broke down and let them join us. So, with
the addition of Tessa and her boyfriend, Pirate, we were riding with a total of
nine people and two cats as we hit the road.</div>
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DAY 1</div>
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<br />
As we were pulling out of
the woods, the plan was to go to Gainesville. We would hit SR 40, head west to
Ocala, then hit I-75 and go north until Gainesville, but we seemed to be
pulling out in the wrong direction. I let Happy know that if we wanted to get
to 40 that we should have to turned right out of the woods, but Tessa and
Pirate argued that we were going the right way. I assured them I had just been
through there a few days prior, when I rode with Annie and Choo Choo, so if we
were intending to go to Gainesville, we were going the wrong direction. Their
insistence was unwavering and edging on aggressive, so I let it go, and off we
went, the wrong way. What an interesting way to start this little chapter of
the adventure. We rode along for a while, stopping a couple of times at gas
stations for bathroom breaks, once so Happy could buy some fruit, another time
to fill up the tires, and eventually stopped to go "spanging." </div>
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SPANGE / SPANGING - (definition unclear) forms of making
money on the road, including but not limited to: flying/signing, white boxing,
gas jugging. (upon further research, I found the word derives from shortening
the request for "spare change")</div>
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FLYING - Also referred to as "SIGNING" or FLYING A
SIGN. To hold up a sign (usually made of cardboard or other found materials) on
the corner of an intersection or the exit of a parking lot in hopes to collect
money.</div>
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WHITE BOXING - The act of asking people who are leaving a
restaurant for their left-overs, which are usually carried inside a white (or
sometimes black) styrofoam container.</div>
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GAS JUGGING - The act of carrying an empty gas jug around a
gas station and asking someone who is filling up their vehicle if they would be
willing to fill up the jug. </div>
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It had
become clear to Happy that we had indeed gone the wrong way, so he was no
longer willing to go to Gainesville. We weren't sure where we were heading, but
we were running low on gas, so we'd stopped to spange. This was the first time
I'd been exposed to this form of "income," so I stayed in the
passenger's seat and watched. The kids (I call them kids because they were all
about 10 years younger than I was, but they were all at least 19 years old.
Denny might have been older than me) were running the show since they'd had
experience in spanging, so they instructed Happy to park the RV at the gas
station, in such a way that they could stand next to it while being blocked
from view of the attendants. Happy seemed just as ignorant to it all as I was,
so we were both in the same boat. The kids made up a cardboard sign that read
"TRAVELERS OUT OF GAS" and all sat outside the RV. It was a group of
rag tag "dirty kids" standing and sitting around an RV on the corner
of a gas station parking lot. Most people paid little attention, some just
glanced over, while others stared as they pumped their own gas. Eventually there
was a person who gave a handful of coins on their way to their car. Another
person gave them a $10 bill. Someone else gave $20 along with a bag of chips
and a soda, and another person gave $5. So, for 40 minutes of spanging the kids
gathered $35 and snacks. We filled up a quarter of the tank, and moved on.</div>
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<o:p> </o:p> The
quarter tank didn't last too long with such an overloaded vehicle, so it wasn't
too far down the road that we stopped at another gas station. This time, the
kids decided to split up. Denny went somewhere down the road, Tessa and Pirate
went off together, and Bo went with Cody, while Happy and Ryan stayed in the
RV. I saw there was a Wendy's just
across the way, so I left them to it, and went in to connect to their wifi. I
ate some dinner and contacted my family to let them know we were out of the
woods. I sat there, connected to the internet, with a hamburger in hand,
wondering what the hell I was doing. I was conflicted between the feeling of
adventure, and that of guilt. I had a little bit of money left, so it felt odd
to be with a group that was begging for spare change. I wondered if I should
contribute my own money to the group, or keep it a secret. I wondered if I
should buy enough food for everyone, or not tell them that I'd bought any. I
wondered where the boundaries should be. I wondered if I should stick with
them, or go my own way. I was starting to feel the weight of the guilt of what
I was allowing to happen around me. These were all kids able to work for a
living if they chose to, but instead were on the street corners asking for
money. Was that okay? Was it wrong? In a way I was repelled by it, but in
another way I was fascinated by it. It was intriguing to get a glimpse at this
side of it. It was their choice to beg, and the choice of those who gave money
to give it. No one was forcing anyone else to do anything they didn't want to
do. I decided to keep what little money I had to myself, as selfish as it felt,
as a way out if the time came, but continue with the group for a while. I
pushed the guilt down and returned to the group. When I got back to the RV, the
kids shared some kick downs they'd received. They apparently had done pretty
well. Happy was able to fill up the tank enough for a three hour ride.</div>
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We had
made it to West Palm Beach, which was so far southeast from Gainesville that
you would've thought we were never heading that way to begin with. Happy had
apparently decided to go to the free camping spot he'd been at before the
gathering. It was already dark by the time we'd arrived. They had free showers
there, so I took advantage of the opportunity to get cleaned up after so much
time in the woods. I spent well over an hour in the shower after getting clean,
just enjoying the feeling of hot water. Once everyone else had taken out their
packs, I managed to unbury my tent and sleeping bag from the mountain of gear
jammed in the bathroom, and set up camp
next to the RV. Bo, Ryan, Cody, and Sean had laid out some blankets next to my
tent and set their sleeping bags all together on top. Denny was next to them,
completely enveloped inside just his sleeping bag. Happy slept inside his RV,
while Tessa and Pirate decided to sleep alone on the opposite side of the RV.
As I got in my tent and tried to sleep, I realized I'd set up really close to
some kind of body of water, and the noises of splashing seemed to be just on
the other side of my tent wall.</div>
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DAY 2</div>
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<o:p> </o:p> I woke up
just as the sun was coming up. Once the sunlight lit up our area, I got a
decent look at our camp. We looked like a gypsy caravan had exploded all over
the place. Sleeping bags, blankets, rucksacks, jackets and sweaters, hats,
cats, bicycle, ladder, and bodies strewn all over. Happy was up and cooking
breakfast for everyone. He seemed pretty tired from the stresses of the
previous day and driving for so long. I let him know that if he ever wanted
someone to take over some of the driving, that I'd had a few years of driving
trucks in the army and at my previous job. I assured him that I'd have no
trouble driving something as small as his RV. He thanked me for the offer, but
I doubted he trusted anyone else to drive his vehicle.</div>
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Everyone
else had gradually woken up and eaten breakfast, then decided it was time to go
out spanging again. There was a certain anxiety to some in the group about
getting out and to keep moving. We piled everyone back into the RV, and headed
out to the nearest Walmart. Stopping anywhere was a bit of a hassle with gear.
I would have to get out first and come around to open the back door from the
outside, and remove the bike and rucksacks that were blocking it, before anyone
could come out. Once the gear was out of the way, and the cats were tied to a
tree, the kids broke into groups again, and went flying at different corners.
Happy went in to get some groceries, and Ryan stayed with the RV, watching over
the cats. I went in to Walmart to use the bathroom. I noticed once I was
finished that they had a Subway, so I got myself some lunch. I finished up and
went back to the RV. Cody and Bo had given up spanging, so it was just Tessa,
Pirate, and Denny out there. Happy came back with a couple of bags of groceries,
which he'd apparently gotten for free. He said he took out a large bag of
pennies at the register, and had started counting them out to pay with, so the
lady behind him was kind enough (or in enough of a hurry) to pay for them
herself.</div>
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It wasn't
too long before Denny came back to the RV, saying some cop had run him off from
his corner. Soon after, Tessa and Pirate came back, as the cops followed,
pulling up to the RV. They asked around for ID's and questioned us as to what
we were doing there. Apparently flying signs was illegal in this county, and
highly frowned upon. They told us that
many people reported it when they saw it, so we might as well move on. They
were nice enough about it, polite and friendly, despite Cody giving them a hard
time about looking up his identity. He apparently had something on his record
he didn't want them seeing. He had refused to give his ID a few times, but
eventually did when Happy insisted on it. The cops found he had something
pending from another state, but they didn't seem to mind it since it was out of
their jurisdiction. They suggested that he didn't need to give them such a hard
time about it, that it would've been much easier and faster if he'd just
cooperated. They stuck around while we packed up, and headed out. </div>
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The kids
hadn't had much luck with their spanging. It seemed the cops were right about
locals frowning on it. Apparently the biggest concern at the moment was that we
were running low on tobacco. They had been carrying their busket since the gathering,
rolling all of their cigarettes, and were running low. This was a big issue for
them. Happy and I were the only ones who didn't smoke, so the majority ruled
that the little money that was just acquired should be used to replenish the
supply of tobacco and rolling papers. We stopped at a tobacco shop, so, again,
I had to go around to the door, open it, remove the bicycle and rucksacks so
they could all go in to make the purchase. It seemed to be a group activity.
Happy and I stayed in the RV. He expressed his concern of having so many people
in his RV. He seemed more tired by that point. We talked about Tessa and Pirate
being a problem. We had originally taken them in just to get them out of the
woods, but they seemed to be wanting to stay with us. They were proving to be
quite manipulative, and seemed to be taking advantage of the situation. It was
always about taking them to the next spot, or the next town, or that we'd
figure it out later. Denny was a bit of a loose cannon, too. He had a bit of a
twisted sense of humor. Happy was also worried about the way Cody had reacted
to the cops. Then there was Sean, who didn't seem to want to bathe. Everyone
else had taken advantage of the facilities at the camping ground except for
him, and it was noticeable. Happy said that even the seat Sean was sitting in
was beginning to smell. He couldn't figure out why he wouldn't just take a
shower. The kids were coming out of the store, so Happy stopped venting. Once
they all got back in, I passed in all the rucksacks, loaded up the bicycle, and
closed the door before heading out. It was quite a process to arrive or leave.
We went back to the same camping ground to spend the night again. </div>
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BUSKET - Container holding loose leaf tobacco and papers for
hand rolled cigarettes shared by a group (a cheaper alternative to buying packs
of cigarettes)</div>
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<br />
DAY 3</div>
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It was
another beautiful morning, but it was cold. We, again, had vomited a traveling
caravan on the ground around the RV. It was a little windy outside, so I went
into the RV with Happy. He had already cooked breakfast for everyone, and he
looked more tired than the day before. It seemed he wasn't adjusting well to
the sudden influx of people. He'd been used to traveling alone for months, and
very suddenly he had taken on eight traveling companions plus two pets. Every
decision was a hassle, every stop was a process, and gathering everyone to
leave anywhere was like herding cats (almost literally since a percentage of
the passengers were actually cats). Happy had been in contact with Baloo the
previous night, who apparently wanted us to come to him out in Punta Gorda,
which was a few hours away. Happy was quick to tell me that he did not have the
energy to go anywhere any time soon. He wanted to take a few days to just rest,
not do anything, not go anywhere, and maybe, just possibly, do some fishing. As
everyone started getting up and filling the RV, I took the opportunity to start
painting the side of the RV. It was a good opportunity to paint if we weren't
going anywhere for a couple of days, and there was plenty to paint. </div>
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<o:p> </o:p> At some
point in the day we got a complaint from a staff member about all of the
camping gear strewn around the RV. They told us that we weren't allowed to camp
there because it was an area designated for RV's only, and were directed to the
appropriate camping zone. I was the first one to move my tent and gear, then
went back to painting. Eventually Bo and Ryan moved their stuff, then Denny.
Another staff member came around later to tell us that if the rest of our gear
wasn't moved soon that they'd have to ask us to leave. The rest of the kids
begrudgingly moved their stuff over. It seemed a larger portion of our group
had issues with authority. I wondered how well this would bode for us in the
future.</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Toward
the end of the day, we were all gathered in the RV. The kids were getting
anxious because they were almost out of rolling papers already. They really
liked to smoke. Denny was anxious about wanting to get more money, and Sean did
not like staying around the camp ground. He wanted to be anywhere else, this
was too boring for him. The discussion at one point had turned to my painting
of the RV, and suddenly everyone had some sort of opinion as to what should be
painted. It had somehow become a group planning project as to what got put on
the other side of the RV to make us money. They were suggesting things to write
out that would encourage people to donate. I had conflicting feelings about
that, but it was Happy's RV, so whatever he wanted on it was okay with me.</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
By this
point I was getting to know everyone a little bit at a time. I'd gotten to know
Happy pretty well by then, since I interacted with him quite a bit at the
gathering. He was a fairly recent divorcee, with grown kids, looking for a new
adventure in his life. He had retired from teaching a few years back, and had
wanted to experience the freedom of a hippie lifestyle. He was looking to
follow the Rainbow Road as long as he could, and had been hoping to link up
with the right group of hippies that could help him achieve that. He was
pleased, because he believed this was that group (minus a few). Denny seemed to
be a guy who had done a few too many drugs in his time (and most likely still
did). He was not the brightest, but he had a good work ethic from what I could
tell. I remembered at the gathering he was always doing some kind of work for
the kitchen. Bo and Ryan were a couple, though you wouldn't guess it at first
glance. Had I mentioned Ryan was a girl? She was one of those very serious
looking girls who looked like she was displeased with everything and everyone
all the time, even when she wasn't . I believe it is referred to as
"resting bitch face." Once she got comfortable around us, she
expressed a dry sense of humor, where you sometimes wouldn't know if she was
serious or joking. Bo, on the other hand, was fun and outgoing. He seemed to
have real potential to make something of himself, but chose the roaming
lifestyle. Sean seemed to be good friends with Bo, though it didn't seem
mutual. Sean was lazy and selfish, but very funny. He had a very sarcastic
attitude to most things. Tessa and Pirate were usually on their own. Pirate
always seemed to let Tessa take the reins, keeping quiet in the background.
Tessa was, as I'd said, manipulative. She pulled guilt trips, took charge of
situations that best suited her, and had an opinion for most things. Then there
was Cody. I think Cody was my favorite and simultaneously least favorite person
in the group. I liked him and was intrigued by his opinions, but at the same
time was really frustrated by him. He was my absolute definition of a hippie.
He spoke of astral projections, the influence and healing powers of stones and
rocks, and insisted that everything in the world is a vibration. I really liked
his free spirited outlook on life, but was frustrated beyond measure whenever
he argued a point. Someone would say something, and he'd interject by saying it
wasn't so, or wasn't accurate, then he'd state that it was actually a vibration,
and that we couldn't possibly understand. I'd ask him to explain what he meant,
but he always said there was no way to explain it. Now, I always enjoy
different perspectives and meaningful debates, but to deny opinions, and
sometimes facts, and say that the actuality is inexplicable, it becomes very
frustrating. To him, life was a sacred geometry he couldn't describe, crystals
had powers he couldn't explain, stones affected people in ways he couldn't
express, and everything was a vibration in ways that we couldn't understand.
What was most frustrating was that I wanted to understand at least just a
little bit of what he believed.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
DAY 4</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Happy
decided to go fishing in the morning. I helped him get his kayak off the roof
of the RV, and off he went on the lake. The group slowly trickled into the RV
for breakfast which Ryan prepared. Everyone, except for Bo and myself, seemed
eager to leave. Sean seemed the most bothered by being out in the camp ground.
He had still refused to shower, and it was becoming more and more noticeable.
It seemed the group was itchy for a change of scenery. They started slowly
packing their camps. Once Happy returned, they expressed their desire to go.
Happy insisted that he didn't have any interest of leading the group, and whatever
was decided by everyone was fine with him. He didn't want to be "the
adult," even though he was at least 25 years older than any of us. He
didn't want to make any decisions. So it was decided, we would leave as soon as
everything was packed. So much for the two days of rest. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Spanging
missions seemed to be the driving force for our group. Everywhere we stopped
was determined by its "spangeability," or else we'd move on to the
next spot. If there wasn't enough money gathered in a given amount of time, we'd
move on. It seemed to be stressing Happy out to be moving so much, so
sporadically. I let him know again that I was more than willing to drive so he
could get a break from it, but again, he declined the offer. I wasn't sure how
else I could help. I wasn't doing any of the spanging, partly because I wasn't
familiar with it like the kids were, but mainly because I was personally and
morally against it. I didn't feel like it was something I should be doing, it
didn't feel okay. I wasn't about to tell them that they shouldn't do it, but I
would be hard pressed to convince myself to start doing it myself. Their
discussions on which signs worked better, or how you need to make eye contact
with people to make them feel guilt so they would actually give more money, was
off-putting. Should they use the "TRAVELERS OUT OF GAS" or
"HUNGRY PLEASE HELP" sign? Which corners worked best? It felt as if
we were taking advantage of people's good will. I wondered how many people on
the streets were doing the same thing. I remembered giving money to people in
the past because their situations seemed dire, and wondered if they actually
had been. Was this morally wrong? Was it a way to make a living? Were they
taking advantage of people? Should I leave the group due to moral discretion?
My own funds were running dangerously low, having been in the woods for so
long, unable to take on any commissions online. Our sporadic movement wasn't
making it easy to promote any commissions either. I decided to ride it out for
a while, see how things went. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As we
were driving down the road between spange missions, we started hearing a
strange thumping. Happy mentioned the steering was off, harder to handle, so we
pulled over. Sure enough, one of the tires had gone flat. We all pitched in to help
Happy replace the tire. We had to untie the DragonWagon which was lashed to the
spare tire. The spare was on, the punctured one stowed in the rear, and the
DragonWagon retied to it. We worked like a pit crew (at least Happy, Bo, Cody,
Denny, and I did, while the others spectated), and knocked it out in no time.
It was only a few miles later, though, that one of the other tires gave way as
well. It wasn't surprising, with so much extra weight, that the tires were
taking on more stress than normal. This time, however, we didn't have another
spare to replace it with. We ended up rolling about 15 mph for 20 very slow
miles, until we reached the nearest tire shop, which happened to be across the
street from a Walmart. </div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The group
went to work, manning the exits of the Walmart, trying to get enough money to
pay for the repairs. Time was not on our side, since the tire shop was closing
in less than an hour, and there was no feasible way of "spanging
faster." When all was said and done, they came up $18 short. Happy was
about to settle for just one tire, and ride without a spare, so I decided to
pitch in my last $20. It wouldn't help anyone if one of the other tires gave
out in the middle of nowhere, and I felt I hadn't contributed enough to the
group. I'd figure something out eventually, but for that moment, that was the
glaring problem. We got the two tires fixed, and went back to Walmart to gather
the troops. Bo and Cody said that this Walmart was a "goldmine," and
insisted that we stick around a while longer. So we stuck around. Happy went in
for some groceries, while everyone went back out to their respective corners.
Ryan and I were left guarding the RV. As we sat there, I noticed that just
beside the parking lot was an orange grove. There was no fence, no signs saying
"private property" or "no trespassing," and plenty of
oranges on the ground. I walked over, picked up a couple of plastic shopping
bags that had blown into the trees, and filled them with oranges that had
already fallen but hadn't gone bad. I returned to the RV with two very heavy
bags of oranges, much to the surprise of my companions. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
While we
waited for everyone to return to the RV, Denny and Sean had made their way
back. Apparently Sean had gotten some free McDonald's nuggets and fries, and
came back to share them with the group. Happy had returned with fruit and
snacks, and was really pleased to see all the oranges I'd acquired. Denny, on
the other hand, had used some of the money he'd gotten to buy beer. He'd gotten
into a few of them pretty quickly. There was a man sitting in his truck a few
yards away from us, minding his own business. Denny took one of the bananas
that Happy had offered us, peeled it, and thought it would be funny to wave it
towards the man while making monkey noises. The man seemed to be consciously
ignoring Denny, but he wouldn't let up. Denny kept waving the banana at the man
from across the parking lot until he eventually broke down screaming
"Motherfucker I will whoop your ASS!!!" Denny quickly stopped, turned
back to the RV and laughed. Bo looked at Denny with a look of surprised
disapproval, asking him what the hell he'd been thinking. Denny just shrugged
it off and went into the RV. Once we had everyone back, we hit the road again.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We drove
for a while, but Happy was clearly too tired to drive any farther. He didn't
have it in him to drive out to Baloo's just yet, so we pulled into another
Walmart parking lot for the night. I went in to use the bathroom, and by the
time I returned, Happy had apparently told the others about me contributing the
last $20 we'd needed for the tires. Bo told me not to do that anymore, and that
if I had any more money, to keep it for emergencies. It's almost as if he'd
taken it personally, as if I'd said that he and his crew were unable to spange
enough money to take care of the situation. I was taken aback. I hadn't
expected this reaction at all. "Your stash is gold," he told me. Note
taken, situation understood. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We were
parked in the back corner of the parking lot, near a fenced retention pond.
There were grassy areas with small bushes around the outside of the fence where we would camp for
the night. Bo, Ryan, and Cody were setting up their regular tarps and blankets
to sleep on, while Denny, Tessa, Pirate, and Sean went off to another area around
the corner. As I went in the RV to pull out my own gear, Bo told me they had
enough room on their tarp for me if I wanted to join them. As I looked over I
noticed they'd already had it all set up, with an open space on the end for one
more person. I believed they were inviting me into their group, perhaps as a
thank you for the contribution I'd made. I believed I was being accepted in a
more intimate way. I left my tent in the RV that night, and set up my sleeping
bag next to theirs. I took this as a grand gesture on their part. Maybe I was
reading too much into it, but at that point I felt like I was no longer a
stranger to them. To them I was Dragon, their friend. This was the first night I spent
under the naked stars, outside of a tent, amongst friends.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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DragonWagonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10258103841458167822noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-221545659137877472.post-57355237942721775702015-05-17T08:57:00.000-07:002015-05-17T08:57:04.373-07:00The Rainbow Gathering Part 4<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 36.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">THE RAINBOW
GATHERING <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 36.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">PART 4<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
DAY 15 (CON'TD)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, there
I was, 30 miles away from the Rainbow Gathering. I hadn't brought any supplies,
except for my camel pack which I filled with water at the McDonald's (good
thing I wore that thing everywhere I went at the gathering), and my sketchbook.
I was wearing my flip flops, which were still newish and stiff, not ideal for
walking. I saw the sun was going down, so I decided I'd better set off, it
wouldn't help to wait around. I didn't say goodbye to Choo Choo, maybe I
should've. I didn't feel too bad about it, he seemed busy on his phone. I
started walking east down 40 again, like I had a few days back. I remembered
there being a lot of hippies at the Burger King and Walmart parking lots the
first time I'd come through, when I met Priest. If I was lucky, maybe I could
find someone there who was headed in the same direction. The walk began.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was
no one in the Burger King parking lot who looked like they were part of the
Rainbow Family, nor at Walmart for that matter. I did see a few RV's parked in
the lot, with people sitting in fold-out chairs outside of them. They just
seemed like travelers to me. I thought maybe I could ask them which way they
were heading, and with luck, catch a ride. I walked towards them, then found
myself walking past them, not uttering a word. I chickened out. I was too
afraid to ask them. Why? Why was I afraid to ask them? I couldn't comprehend
why I didn't just turn around and engage these people. They didn't seem
threatening or unwelcoming, but I just couldn't bring myself to talk to them.
"You're screwing yourself over..." There was a voice I hadn't heard
in a while. The negative little voice that joined me at the start of my
journey, that had kept quiet for a while, was back. "You're too chicken to
ask for a ride, and you're going to regret it. What, are you going to walk 30
miles there in one night? You know you can't do that. Are you going to stop
somewhere to sleep on the way with no tent or tart or blanket? You're going to
be one of those idiots who ends up dead in the woods, found weeks later."
I kept walking, past the Walmart, past the last road for Ocala, and past
sunset. It got dark, and the temperature started dropping.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I
could've stuck out my thumb while the sun was still out, but the voice said,
"you'll get arrested. You've heard it over and over again that it's
illegal to hitchhike in Florida. Chances are, as soon as you stick out your
thumb, a cop will see you and take you in, or they'll just fine you a bunch of
money you won't be able to pay... or both." It was dark out, and no one
was about to pick up some random bearded guy in the middle of the woods. I felt
like I'd be the stereotypical creepy hitchhiker at night. I imagined how creepy
it would be to answer the question, "so, where're you headed?" with,
"the Rainbow Gathering." I remembered how creeped out I was when I
first heard Ron mention it to me, thinking it was some sort of cult. I walked
on as blinding headlights passed by me. Fortunately I kept a flashlight in my
pocket, and a smaller one attached to my camel pack, so I could at least see
where I was going. There were no street lights this far from town.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I
wondered how many people who were passing by me might have been going to the
gathering, if any. It was close to the big day, so chances were pretty good
that at least some of them were headed that way. If they knew I was headed
there too, they'd probably pick me up. That's when I got a genius idea. I
wasn't going to hitchhike, but I was going to let people know where I was
going. If they know where I'm going, and their going there too, they're sure to
pick me up. I tore out a page from my sketchbook, and used my sharpie to write
"RAINBOW" on it. I stuck the paper to my back, using a clip from my
camel pack, so that cars heading the same direction would see it in their
headlights. If any cop asked questions, I wasn't technically hitchhiking. Genius.
I walked confidently forward, ignoring the blisters forming on my feet from my
stiff flip flops. Every time I heard a car approaching behind me, and saw the
lights from their headlights, I thought, "ah yes, this is it. They should
be reading my sign by now, and slowing down... slowing down... slowing..."
and they'd pass right by. "Surely this one is the one. They must be. No
more walking for me." Zoom. "Okay, this one, for sure." Vroom.
So it went for a couple of hours, maybe more. The blisters on my feet were
getting worse, and the temperature was dropping even more. I took my flip flops
off and began to walk barefoot in the grass. The cool damp grass and mud was
helping sooth the pain. I marched on. I started getting hungry. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I saw a
cafe across the street, so I decided to stop in and eat something. I put my
shoes back on, which hurt, and crossed the street. They were closed for dinner.
Damn. I took off the "RAINBOW" sign, and crumpled it up, putting it
in my pocket, and marched on. I walked until I saw a barbeque restaurant. I
remembered it from the last time I walked through here. I'd decided not to go
in because I hadn't been walking long enough, which had led to me getting
picked up by the two ladies and Clue. I remembered how unfortunate it was that
I had met Clue. I stopped in this time. It was warm inside. I hadn't realized
how cold it had been outside since my body was staying hot from the workout. I
had realized the temperature was dropping, but not that it was by that much.
Dinner was delicious. It'd felt like months since I'd had any meat. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The
restaurant was bare, save for the couple of waitresses working, so there was no
one there chicken out on asking for a ride. As I stepped out of the restaurant,
I realized just how much colder it had gotten. Being indoors allowed my body to
rest and acclimate to the nice warm temperature, so it hit me even harder. My
feet were aching from the blisters, so I took my shoes off again. I walked for
a while, feeling colder and colder, so I broke into a jog to get my body heat
rolling. I'd kept my gloves in my back pockets since the first couple of nights
at the gathering, so I put them on. I kept switching hands to hold the
sketchbook with, so one didn't get colder than the other. I took off my hat,
and let my hair go. It kept my ears slightly warmer to have my hair around
them. Slightly. I realized no one was stopping, I was either walking the whole
way there that night, or stopping somewhere in the woods to sleep. Luckily I
was keeping my lighter in my pocket, so I'd be able to start a fire to curl up
next to. I started to feel like I was better prepared for this than I'd
originally thought. I stopped jogging once my feet felt like they were on fire
from the friction with the ground. I had to put my shoes back on to try and
alleviate them. On the plus side, I couldn't feel the blisters anymore. At
least I hoped that was a good thing...</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
I eventually started humming
as I power walked down the road. I hummed loudly, no matter what song came to
mind. My spirits were high after that hearty meal, and once I'd accepted I
wasn't getting picked up, I felt at ease. I was no longer getting my hopes up
as cars approached, just to have them crushed. I started singing the few songs
I know the lyrics to. I sang "The Gasman Cometh," which tells about a
gasman fixing a gas tap on a Monday, leading to needing a different worker for
each day of the week to repair something else that'd gone awry, ending with the
gasman having to come back to fix the tap again. I sang a song about a girl who
killed her whole family in various ways, only to confess once the cops had
arrived because she knew lying was a sin. I sang what little I remembered from
the Decemberists' "Mariner's Revenge," a ten minute song about two
sailors being swallowed by a whale, one seeking revenge on the other. I recited
Shakespeare's "Hamlet" speech, "to be or not to be," which
happens to be the only Shakespeare I've actually retained. I repeated these
over and over and over. I started them all at regular speed, then slowed them
down, then repeated them, then did them one syllable at a time for each step I
took. I didn't stop. I kept going. My body was warm, my feet were hot, and I
kept walking for three or four more hours. Then, the last thing I'd expected to
happen, happened.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A car
pulled over ahead of me. I almost didn't notice it, since it looked like it was
about to turn down a side road. I slowed down to let it make its turn, thinking
it wouldn't see me walking by, and I'd probably get run over, but it stayed
stationary, not moving forward, and not making its turn. I thought something
might be wrong with the driver, so I looked in the side window. The passenger
window was cracked open, so I asked the man if he was okay. "Yea, I'm
fine. You need a ride, don't you?" Damn, that's right, I did need a ride.
I'd lost hope entirely, and didn't even consider that's why he was pulling
over. I'd accepted so deeply that I was walking the whole way that it didn't
even occur to me that it was even a possibility anymore. I got in the car. I
thanked the driver, and was astonished when I got a better look at him. It was
Baloo from the Bare Necessities Kitchen! No, it wasn't him. It just looked like
him, sounded like him. I must've been more tired than I realized. I looked at
the clock on his dash, which read 2:10 AM. I'd started walking around 6 PM, and
only stopped for dinner for about an hour. I asked him where he was headed, and
he said, "the gatherin', 'course! Aren't you?" I admitted I was, but
that I hadn't realized that's where he'd been headed. "Yea, I jus' don'
know where it's at. Gonn' have a hard time findin' it is all." I assured
him I knew where it was, and how to get there. He seemed relieved. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The
conversation for the car ride was heavily one-sided. He was a talker, and very
opinionated. I could barely keep up with his subject matter, which bounced
around like a pinball machine, from the bible, to Sadam Husein, to "those
damn niggers," back to Jesus, then to Buddha, then over to Tutankhamen.
The government was a conspiracy, corporations were terrorists, and the
educational system was a scam. Then at one point, he mentioned Baloo was his
brother. Aha! There it is! That was why I thought it was him. I was glad I
wasn't that crazy after all. He spoke a little about when they were younger,
getting into drugs like LSD. Finally, we made it back to the gathering. He gave
Front Gate some cigarettes, and cursed at the fact that he was almost out of
tobacco. I directed him over to Bare Necessities. Ironically, there were many
more cars parked along the dirt road than when I'd left. As soon as we arrived
at Back Gate, he dropped me off, and immediately left to restock on cigarettes.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I went
back to my tent, amazed that I was back in my camp. Amazed that someone stopped
to give me a ride, in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere, well after I'd completely given up any hope of
it. Amazed that it was who was going to the same place I was, but didn't know
how to get there. Amazed that it was someone related to the head of the kitchen
I'd been working with for the past few days. Just amazed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
DAY 16</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My
sketchbook had taken a beating from the previous night. The cover was no longer
in the pristine condition it once was. My sweaty, dirty hands left imprints on
the outside, and the edges of the pages were fading from white to brown to
black. I was disappointed at first, but then saw it as a liberation. This
should've been its state long ago, when I first came out to the Rainbow. I'd
been so worried about keeping it clean and in good condition that I hadn't
taken it anywhere. Now it'd been weathered, it'd seen the roughness of travel,
and had now become an adventure sketchbook. I decided it was time to take it
with me as I walked around, unafraid of the consequences. This may sound silly,
but it was a big step for me, a leap even. I decided I wanted to draw in
public, and it was a huge thing for me. I'd been inspired after meeting
Randsford, painting in public, and this was just the slight nudge I needed. I'd
been hearing for a couple of days that someone had set up a hookah lounge
somewhere in the woods, so I decided to check it out. The blisters on my feet
from the trek the previous night needed some time to heal, so some lounging
sounded like a good idea. I grabbed my sketchbook, and went on my way.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They'd
set up just behind Bear Necessities, so it was a conveniently short walk. It
was a loosely tarped area, which fit about ten people tightly sitting together.
There were rubber-like mats on the ground, and leather pillows strewn about.
They had one pole in the center holding the tarps up high, and three tarps and
blankets acting as walls. The fourth wall was created by their 4-man tent. They
had one hookah circling around the six people hanging out inside. It was the
picture of relaxation. They'd set up a little low table out of a garden wagon,
and were using it for their coffee pot. I do love the smell of coffee, hate the
taste, but love the smell. This was ideal. I greeted everyone as I sat on one of
the mats. The guy sitting behind the wagon, operating the coffee maker, turned
to me and said, "hey man, this ass-pillow needs some lovin'. You wanna
give it some lovin'?" He grabbed an unoccupied pillow, and passed it to
me. I thanked him, sat on it, and started drawing, listening to the people
around me chatting. The atmosphere was great, soothing, relaxing, a very chill
environment. There were a couple of drums and sound boxes laying about that
someone would randomly start playing. Every so often they'd pass around a cup
of what they called "sex-presso," everyone would take a sip and pass
it around. The hookah was making its rounds lazily as well.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
"Hey
you, with the credit card, you draw?" It was the same guy who had given me
the "ass-pillow." His name was Jesser. He and his buddy, Cass, whom
I'd recognized as the guy who was recruiting people to help clear the trail to
Main Circle a couple of days prior, were the ones who set up the hookah lounge.
Apparently they'd been at a gathering a few years back, and had decided to
bring a hookah along, and ended up having swarms of hippies join them daily.
Ever since then, they started calling themselves the hookah lounge, and people
look for them when they arrive, knowing there's a cool place to hang out in the
woods. Jesser told me about a project he was working on. He was writing a story
based around a mythical creature of his invention, the
"unicorniphant." He'd been asking artists he'd met along the way to
draw or paint or make some representation of what they thought a unicorniphant
would be, without giving them a description of it. He said he wanted to have a
collection of various artists' perception of what this animal could be, and
asked me if I'd be willing to draw him one. I immediately turned to a new page,
and got to work. About an hour later, I gave him the result, and he was thrilled.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p>CREDIT CARD - a sharpie or black marker one could to create things for monetary gain</o:p></div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3WLfxIhd10oBqRP0q0Ox-AcU8U8ZWLH9zE45Pu5dolkyj3Iz4lyRJ8mFrftonZc0dNv7oipv1H9CLpoFCNzz_1cJ6Mv-ldE7QbvKa0UEJSWx05t_ApEYtnbjBeWPnCF5tWGeHJR8yYxgG/s1600/unicorniphant.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="294" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3WLfxIhd10oBqRP0q0Ox-AcU8U8ZWLH9zE45Pu5dolkyj3Iz4lyRJ8mFrftonZc0dNv7oipv1H9CLpoFCNzz_1cJ6Mv-ldE7QbvKa0UEJSWx05t_ApEYtnbjBeWPnCF5tWGeHJR8yYxgG/s320/unicorniphant.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I took my
sketchbook to Main Circle that night, and started drawing the musicians. I
caught some of the drummers from the drum circle around the fire. It was tough
because it was dark out and the only light I had was from the fire, and I
wasn't about to use hippie-mace just so I could see better.. I could barely
make out what I was drawing, and people were moving. It was an interesting
challenge I hadn't undertaken before. I stopped in at Stock Pot on the way
back, and caught a couple of guitarists around the fire. The walk to and from
Main Circle was no fun with the blisters, but the experience of drawing people
was worth it.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
HIPPIE-MACE - Bright lights in the dark, especially when
shone in someone's eyes.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
DAYS 17-22</div>
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<br /></div>
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The next
few days were uneventful, but exhilarating all the same. I met new people, like
Bubbles and Princess, Ro, Mama Chime, and Guy with a Flag. Guy with a Flag
walked around with a flag, which had the image of a guy carrying a flag on it.
Fascinating. I wondered if Happy had something going on with Mama Chime,
because I saw them walking together at one point, in a flirty fashion. I took
my sketchbook with my just about everywhere I went. While I was in the hookah
lounge one of the days, Randsford was painting a part of a banner for the
lounge. He invited me to participate on it, so I painted their pink hookah on
one of the corners of the banner. I even got to see Annie, the girl who had
driven Choo Choo and myself to Ocala, who had supposedly gone to Tampa. She'd
apparently made up with her boyfriend, and had decided to come back for the
last few days of the gathering.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I visited Trade Circle for the first time, and
sat down to draw it. It was an interested "market." The fact that
they called it a circle was a bit misleading, since it seemed like a type of
blob, but the idea was there. People would set out a blanket or a coat or a
tarp, sometimes even just a handkercheif, and they'd put out items they have
for trade, while others walk around perusing their wares. The haggling was
intriguing to listen to, as some people would impose so much value onto
something that wasn't regarded as much by others. There were all kinds of
objects for trade, from shiny rocks, to camping equipment, to trading cards, to
patches that people could sew onto their clothes, to tools, and so much more.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p> </o:p> Carrying
a sketchbook around intrigued some people to who asked to look through it, and
others even wanted to draw in it. One time at Stock Pot some kid named Guess
Who asked to draw in it. I lent it to him for a while before he had to leave.
Eventually even Randsford asked to leave his mark in there. It was great to
have this tool for interaction with people around me. One little girl saw the
cover on which I'd drawn dragons and castles, and was wide eyed when she asked if
I'd drawn that. I think she was a little disappointed when she saw that there
weren't many of the same style drawings on the inside, but a couple of them
caught her eye.</div>
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I hung
out in the Bare Necessities Kitchen with my sketchbook a few times while they
served food to random hippies who showed up. I tried to capture some of the
coliseum while I was hanging around, seeing people who had spent the night by
the fire. I'd been getting to know some of the kitchen staff pretty well by
then, like Bo, Awesome Sauce, Joy, Ryan, Denny, Shawn, Zac and Stunt Double
(who seemed to be referred to as "Cunt Stubble" anytime before midday).
Happy had completely integrated himself into the staff, and seemed to be the
second in command under Baloo. The people working the kitchen respected him,
looked to him for guidance, and enjoyed his company. They loved his breakfasts
which consisted of eggs and potatoes, probably because it was anything other
than pancakes, which they got way too much of. Plus, it was really good. Happy
would sneak me a plate every morning, even though I wasn't technically part of
the kitchen staff. No one seemed to mind since they'd known me to have helped
them out since they set up.</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
One night
I managed to join one of the drum circle when one of the drummers took a break
and offered his drum to anyone who wanted to try. It was an excellent
experience, doing my best to follow along with some very experienced drummers.
Someone would start with a slow beat, another would join in with their own, I'd
follow suit, and eventually all of us were playing. The beat would build up,
louder, and faster, and would intensify as people began to whoop and shout and
scream. It would eventually slow down, and drummers would fade out until only
one beat was left playing. Either they'd fade out to silence, or they'd change
the tempo and flow into the next movement. It was amazing.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then the
breakdown began. Tents began disappearing, kitchen started to pack up, cars
were leaving. One morning I went into the hookah lounge for a couple of hours,
having to walk through Bare Necessities to get there, but when I came out, the coliseum
was completely down. I was glad I'd decided to sketch it when I did, otherwise
I would've missed the opportunity. The gathering had taken on a bit of a depressing
mood, as structures were taken down when you weren't looking. The trash kids
disassembled their tree house, HHK broke down their bliss rails, Bangerang had completely disappeared, and Stock Pot had
filled in their fire pit. The kitchens that left earlier would kick down
leftover supplies and food to the kitchens that were staying later, so there
seemed to be a convergence of kitchens into Bare Necessities. They were
recieving crates of canned sauces, boxes of pasta, bags of rice, and went into
a mad frenzy to get as much of it cooked as they could in the last couple of
days, while still breaking down the kitchen. </div>
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It
finally came down to the last day. The police were warning people to be out by
midnight the next day, lest they be fined for trespassing. People in the
kitchen were dashing around trying to get supplies back on the trailer. Happy
had offered space in his RV to help Baloo. He'd apparently broken things off
with Tim the Cosmic Wonder, and was instead taking on some of the kitchen staff
from Bear Necessities. His plan was to take on a skeleton crew to the next
gathering, which was in some place called A-cola, and set up the kitchen early
as soon as the site was declared. I helped out where I could, and by midday had
broken off to take down my own camp. I packed up the DragonWagon and was ready
to head out. I went to say my farewells to Happy. He was insistent that I go
with him. I explained that, with my wagon, it'd be difficult, if not
impossible, to get my load into his RV. He dismissed my excuses, assuring me
that there was a way. He told me he'd love it if I came along with him and the
Bear Necessities kids. Tim wouldn't be around anymore, so the kids were going
to "spange" their way along. I had no idea what he meant. To be
honest, I was scared. I was afraid of going in an RV with a bunch of people I
barely knew, with what little I had to live with. I was convinced I'd be
walking out of there, but Happy convinced me otherwise. I set aside my fears
and apprehension, and gave way to my sense of adventure. Who knew what would be
waiting for me on an RV full of hippies from the woods? This wasn't an
experience that would readily come my way again anytime soon. It would be an
adventure, and that's exactly what I'd set out to have.</div>
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</div>
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DragonWagonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10258103841458167822noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-221545659137877472.post-337741772787231132015-05-01T19:42:00.000-07:002015-05-01T19:42:18.318-07:00The Rainbow Gathering Part 3<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 36.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">THE RAINBOW
GATHERING <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 36.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">PART 3<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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DAY 12<br />
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I finally
decided it was time to head out to the river for a swim. I took my bag of
toiletries with me so I could wash up a bit, considering it'd been almost two
weeks since I'd come out to the woods and had no chances to bathe. I walked a
good portion of the way down the road Clue and I had taken on our first day,
remembering how odd that whole experience was with him. A truck eventually
rolled up and stopped next to me, asking me if I needed a ride. I thanked them
as I hopped in the bed of the truck. There was someone else already in there
catching a ride of his own. It was a big guy. I realized after a few seconds
that it was 6-8 whom I'd met the previous day while riding with Happy. He was
clearly a lot more sober this morning than he had been the previous night. His
speech was much more comprehensible and he was acting a lot calmer and nicer
than he had. He seemed belligerent when asking Happy for more beer, but now
sounded more humble. He seemed like a nice guy once I got to know him a little
bit. The guys in the truck were scouting a new place to camp, well away from
the rest of the gathering, and figured they'd check towards the river. They
stopped in a parking area a few yards away from the river, and I thanked them
for the ride as I walked the rest of the way.</div>
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Once I
got to the place Clue and I had camped, I saw there were no tents around. I'd
imagined hordes of people would have chosen this area for their camp ground,
but it seemed it was too far from everything else to deemed a good place. There
were, however, a few people sitting on the concrete steps that led to the
water. They were sitting around a small fire on the concrete, chatting. I
walked up to the group and asked if the water was nice. I wasn't sure if they
hadn't heard me or if they were not interested or if something else was at
play, but I got no response, and had one or two of them give me a blank look
before going back to their conversation. Well, okay then...</div>
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I walked
around to the concrete boat ramp that was on the other side of a couple of
trees from the group and looked around. The water was a bright copper color,
almost red, and clearly see-through. I stripped down to my underwear and
stepped in. The water was freezing cold. I swam out towards the middle of the
river and dipped under a few times, keeping in motion to try and stay somewhat
warm. The morning sun hadn't quite broken over the tree line, so it was hard to
get any sunlight to help the situation. It was a magnificent feeling being in
the water again. I scrubbed off layers of dirt from my legs as I floated there,
taking in the beauty of my surroundings. I swam back towards the ramp and sat
on it with my feet in the water. The sunlight was just making it over the trees
to hit the ramp, so I was warming up nicely. As I started pulling out the soap
and shampoo, a couple of families walked up with two dogs. The dogs bolted
straight for the water, chasing each other. They were enjoying the water so
much, I rethought my intention to spread shampoo and soap into it. I figured it
was good enough to scrub myself down with just water. I packed up, got dressed,
and headed back. I walked part of the way down before catching a ride with
another pickup truck heading my way.</div>
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Back at
Bear Necessities, I saw a guy painting a banner for the kitchen. His name was Randsford.
He was a tall guy with a shaved head and a trimmed beard. He had a few spots
under his eyes, which I couldn't tell were birthmarks or not. They seemed too
symmetrical to be natural, but I didn't bother asking. He was a good painter.
He was taking reference from what seemed like a Native American textbook,
copying the essential elements from one of the pictures. I've forgotten what he
explained it all meant, but it had something to do with a people that once
lived underground, and were brought out from the darkness, and into the sun.
Something spiritual like that, well beyond me. It was a cool looking image, and
his depiction was very stylistic. I was positively impacted by meeting him, and
partly inspired and ashamed at the same time. There he was, using his gifts and
abilities to enhance the kitchen he was attaching himself to, unashamedly
putting forth his artistic efforts. The only one at the gathering who knew I even
drew was Happy, and that was because I let it slip that I was drawing in my
tent one time. Truth was I was scared of drawing in public. Putting forth the
finished image is one thing, but progressing in public is somewhat crippling to
me, and seeing him do it made me feel silly about it.</div>
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Just
then, there were people looking for help to blaze a trail. Main Circle had been
moved to a new location, but it was on the other side of the forest. We'd have
to follow the trail about a mile out to the road, go up just under a mile on
the road, and then another mile into another trail, unless we cut this new
trail connecting the two sites. </div>
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I buried
my thoughts of inadequacies from meeting Randsford, and offered to help. I'd
done enough trail blazing of my own for my two camps, why not help with one
others could use as well? I grabbed my hatchet from my camp, and met up with
them by the trash kids' camp. The trash kids had set up a tree house by their
hammock, and were working on a tent behind it. It seemed their numbers were
growing. They had bags of collected pocket trash, poles with trash bags, and a
sign or two saying things like "Give us your Pocket Trash!!" One of
them offered to come along with us to help clear the trail. As we walked, I
listened to a skinny young kid walking ahead of me talking about looking for a
machete he could trade for. He couldn't have been older than 16. I thought how
strange his attire was for the forest, with his skin tight black jeans, and his
thick black leather vest, with his pointy black leather boots. It seemed
awfully hot and uncomfortable for the muggy heat we were getting. Every time we
stopped somewhere he'd ask if anyone knew of someone with a machete to trade,
and what they'd be looking for in exchange. We followed the main trail,
recruiting as many as we could along the way, and reached an area just outside
of the Main Council, where the Main Circle had been held the previous few
nights. We followed a trail in the opposite direction until it just sort of
faded into the growth a few yards up. It seemed to zigzag, and it seemed to me
it was essentially going the wrong direction. We were supposed to meet someone
there who was in charge of guiding the project along, but they were nowhere to
be found. The person recruiting workers went off to find him, and the black
leather kid went with him. It was just me and two others, so we started
clearing the trail in the direction we thought it should be going.</div>
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I started
talking to the kid from the Trash Camp. His name was Oliver. He was wearing one
of those brown winter caps with the flaps over the ears, a checkered button-up
shirt, brown overalls with one broken strap, and well-worn brown boots. Another
set of clothes I questioned for the current weather. I asked him about the trash
kids, and how all that came about. He explained that he and a couple of the
others had been here a few days before anyone else showed up, and it was a
beautiful site for the gathering. As soon as people showed up, they started
dropping trash everywhere along the trails and paths they'd helped to make. He
told me it wasn't like the other gatherings they'd been at, where people
regularly pick up after themselves. People here seemed to be more apathetic
about it, so he and his friends started doing something about it. Simple as
that. Something that seemed to me to be such an established thing, something I
thought was just done at these gatherings, was in fact something only just
started, by someone who saw it needed to be done. I realized how often I found
myself picking up trash from the ground and putting it in my pocket, just so
I'd have something to give the trash kids when they said, "Hey, you, with
the pockets! Got pocket trash?" and how good it felt to reach in and hand
over a handful of papers and plastic and other assorted trash, which was met
with "yea, I knew you were a good hippie, keep it up!" It hit me what
a difference they were making. People knew and recognized them along the
trails, people listened to what they said, and people respected them. All of
this just because they picked up the trash, and encouraged people, in an
amusing and fun way, to pick up after themselves.</div>
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We cut
the trail for a couple of hours, hoping we were heading in the right direction,
but we didn't get very far with only three of us. Neither the recruiter nor the
black leather kid had shown back up, much less whomever was supposed to be in
charge of it all. We decided it was time to stop when the sun started getting
low. It was almost time for Main Circle, and I still didn't know where it was,
only that it was far away. I went back to camp for warmer clothes, then asked
around for directions. It was a far walk, somewhere around 3 miles. I was used
to it, sure, but I wasn't sure I wanted to walk 3 miles for dinner, and then 3
miles for bed. Might as well check it out anyways. It was in an area I hadn't
really explored, down the "Welcome Home" trail at Mid Gate. As I
passed through Mid Gate I began to see signs that read, "Main Circle this
way. BRING WOOD!" When I thought I was almost there, I broke off from the
trail and searched for dry wood in the bushes. I found a large, thick branch,
threw it over my shoulder, and continued on the trail. I definitely wasn't as
close as I thought, and it didn't help that I took a couple of wrong turns due
to the signs being a little misleading. I did, however, mistakenly find out
where Green & Purple Kitchen was. Hoorayyyy... I eventually made it to a
clearing with about 7 people sitting around with a small pile of sticks and
branches. They were in the middle of a large field of dry tall grass, with no
fire pit to be seen. If we had a fire anywhere near the size of the previous
Main Circles, then this wouldn't do.</div>
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A couple
of people were complaining about the new location, criticizing its lack of fire
pit, lack of fire wood, how annoying the tall grass was, and about a swampy
area off in the distance. That's when an old timer started explaining that the
reason this was the state of the place, was because no one had yet done anything
about it. One guy stood up and said he was going to look for more fire wood,
another one followed him. I thought back to my conversation with Oliver, about
seeing something that needed to be done, and doing it. I saw that a fire pit
was needed, so I did something about it. I started tearing out the grass,
forming a circle. Two or three others jumped in with me. More people started
showing up with wood, and stepping in to help. We made a pile of all the tall
dry grass, next to the pile of wood. We cleared the grass down to the mud,
using our hands, our feet, sticks and branches, or whatever else we could use.
As it began to get dark, while kitchens were still showing up, we began to
build the fire. I laid down the first batch of dry grass, and people began
bringing wood over, asking me where I wanted them. It came as a bit of a
surprise that I was endowed with the responsibility of building the fire. I
knew it wasn't a big deal at all, but the fact that complete strangers were
doing any kind of work, and turning to me for leadership was something I hadn't
expected at all out in the woods full of hippies. I had sudden flash backs to
my time as a warehouse manager, directing laborers twice my age. It's a strange
feeling when you're not expecting it at all. I asked for the smaller twigs
first, then the medium sized branches. I asked one of them to help me prop up
the initial teepee above the batch of dry grass. The rest were easy to add on
once the initial ones were balanced. I took out my lighter, and lit the dry
grass before too many branches made it unreachable. I called for more dry grass
as the flames grew, and instructed people to insert it through the openings,
making sure to spread it lightly so as not to suffocate the flame. We put on
more and more branches, so we needed more grass. The pile we'd stocked up ran
out, and I was fascinated to see people scour out to tear more grass out of the
surrounding area. It was a magnificent display of collaboration which I was in
the middle of, and there it was, a bon fire. Where there once was just a field
and complaints of lacking, we came together and made an effective fire to warm
the masses that were rolling in. It felt silly to be so proud of something so
trivial, but I was. By the time the fire was done, the team had dispersed as
quickly as it had formed. I heard someone yell, "ho for the fire!"
and chimed in as we all shouted, "HOOOOO!!!!"<br />
<br />
<br />
Main Circle was
exceptionally delicious that night. The mixture of flavors in the dark was
intriguing and fun, distinguishing between salads, pastas, rice, and desserts.
The small drum circle that formed after dinner was energetic. They fed of each
other and produced wonderful beats. Once I was satisfied with the whole event,
I started my way back. I almost lost the trail a couple of times in the dark,
since it was so fresh. It seemed plenty of people didn't know where they were
going, so the trampled grass in a couple of areas branched out in several
directions. I eventually made it to Stock Pot Kitchen, so I stepped in to take
a look. This seemed to be the place for the after-party. They had dug out an
actual pit for their fire, with enough room for people to sit near the flames,
and had set up thick logs as seating around the pit, which worked as tiered
seating. There were people in the pit, on the logs, and all around the bliss
pit. I found a group of people playing Magic: The Gathering behind one of the
logs. I was amazed there were trading card games in the forest, and even more
impressed that enough people had thought to bring them to have a 6 person game.
There were a couple of guitarists in the pit taking turns with a ukulele
player, and the kitchen was cooking zuzus, which were some sort of deep fried
dessert. After a couple of rounds of zuzus, a few songs from the strings
section, and watching a couple of games of Magic, I decided to continue the
walk back to camp. It was cold out, and being next to the fire for so long was
only making the sudden change worse.</div>
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It was a
bit of a miserable walk back down the road. Once I'd stepped out of the tree
line, the wind was moving much more freely, and made the temperature drop
considerably. I eventually made it back onto the main trail, and thought I'd
check the next couple of kitchens. Mama Rocket's was completely shut down, but
Bangarang was up and active. I sat down at the bliss pit with a few others. It
was a much more mellow crowd here, and nowhere near as packed. There was some
idle chatter happening around the fire, then one of the guys across from the
flames looked at me and exclaimed that I had an epic beard. I didn't manage to
get an entire "thank you" out before the guy next to me scolded him
for his compliment. "What about MY beard?? You've been seeing me for days,
and you've never told ME I've got an epic beard!" He did indeed have a
beard, and was clearly quite drunk, but they seemed to be friends, since the
other guy started laughing. "Fuck you," he retorted while laughing,
"his beard is much more epic than yours!" The guy next to me turned
to me and was clearly getting a closer look at my beard, saying, "fuck.
He's got a point." I laughed and thanked them both for the compliments
just as one of the Bangarang guys came out with a pot of fried chicken and
rice. There were so few people around, that we each filled our bliss with rice
and a full leg and thigh of chicken. The pot even made a second round. There
was so much food. It was about that time I realized I'd lost my spoon at Main
Circle. I'd had it for dinner, but by the time I made it to the rice, it was gone.
I hadn't used it at Stock Pot since the zuzus were finger food, so my deductive
skilled told me Main Circle was the culprit. I'd already lost my fork a few
days prior, so I was utensilless by this point. Finger food it was. I scooped
the rice with two fingers and my thumb, making a mess of it all, trying to
catch as much food as I could back in my bliss. I didn't care. I tried to wipe
my face often with my handkerchief, but I was sure I looked like a savage from
how greasy the chicken was. Again, didn't care. It was delicious.</div>
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<br />
DAY 13<br />
<br />
The sky was gray, the day
was dreary. It rained on and off all day. I felt like crap. I didn't want to
get out of bed. I slept on and off for half the day. The times I wasn't
sleeping, I was running to my "bathroom," and was even caught by the
rain a couple of times. I read the same paragraph in my book about a hundred
times, and still have no idea what I read. I couldn't focus. Eventually,
sometime in the afternoon I think, I decided to go for a walk. I made it as far
as HHK, which isn't far at all, and had to turn around from how dizzy I was. I
was afraid I might throw up before I got back to the tent. I didn't, though, to
little relief. I cracked open the few Granola bars I still had from Anonymous
Artist, hoping they would help make me feel a little better. After some time
laying in my tent whistling, I realized I must be feeling better, because I
felt hungry. I didn't dare take the trek to a decent kitchen, so I cracked open
a can of Chef Boy R Dee I had in the DragonWagon. That's when I remembered I
didn't have a spoon anymore. Crap. I looked around for a substitute, and the
best I had was cutting the plastic lid of a peanut can I'd gotten when I rode
to town with Happy. It was messy, and awkward, and sharp. Not the ideal utensil
to eat with. By the time I was done, I'd practically cut the inside corners of
my mouth, and felt pretty silly about it all. I'd used the plastic
"spoon" to keep myself from cutting my mouth on the ravioli can.
Awesome. </div>
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I spent a
good part of the rest of the day drawing. I was inspired from my encounter with
Randsford, and started allowing something different to flow on the paper. I
didn't know what it was when I began it, but it eventually transformed into
something. It began as a ball and a cup. Fluid rays began to emanate from it,
and soon dots and circles surrounded it. From there, swirls began to flow
outward, then fiery beams. It was starting to look like a rising sun. Sharp
rays shot out from the beams, which were then filled it with some unstable
matter. It all ended with fading circles and dots. I was pleased with it, it
looked interesting, and was indirectly reminiscent of Randsford's style. I
added a comet flying above the sun, then added stars of different shapes
exploding all around the page, like unique snowflakes. I felt like I'd filled
the page, but it didn't feel done. I wanted it to flow better. I wanted it all
to show more unity, rhythm, movement. It suddenly occurred to me that I wanted
it to have gravity. It was a weird thing to want on a picture of
"space," but in my sickly daze, I felt I needed it. I used my pencil
to draw spirals going out from each star, representing their radiating
gravitaional pulls, out until they'd met another, except for the sun. The sun was
the largest one there, so it would set the flow of the whole thing. Okay, so
how was I going to show the pull of gravity? Light? Dark? Darkness. I wanted
darkness to flow like dark matter. It would flow like a whirlpool around the
sun until it got too close to a star, in which case it would get sucked in. The
sun would have a farther reach and stronger pull, so darkness would be squeezed
tightly when getting close to it. The final product made me seem like I was on
drugs while producing it. Maybe my whole conception of it made it seem that
way. I wondered how sick I'd actually been out there all alone...</div>
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Spending
the day in my tent gave me plenty of time to think about things. I wondered if
I should stay at the gathering, or head out early. I figured I should at least
stay for the 14th of February, since that's when everyone said was the
"big day." That was only 5 days away. It wasn't terrible out there,
at least not anymore. Granted I'd gotten there early, much earlier than I'd
intended. I should've been there just under a week instead of just under two
weeks. Things were getting better every day, and I was experiencing new things,
meeting new people. I was definitely interacting with a lot more people, and on
a much more personal level, than I was on my walks on the road. It was
definitely a cheap way of life. Labor for food? Seemed to be working out pretty
well. Cut some logs here, clear some trails there. Even getting fed on days I
didn't quite feel up to doing work. Granted there was no internet, and I wasn't
indoors at all, but that didn't bother me much. Everyone out there was living
under similar conditions, so I didn't stand out. The people who smelled like
soap seemed to be the ones who stood out, the ones with clean clothes. It was,
however, difficult to keep up with drawing out there. Outdoor conditions aren't
the greatest when white paper is involved. Keeping a sketchbook clean and crisp
was hard work. My hands were leaving black smudges on more and more pages as I
even just flipped through the book, not to mention working on a page. It was,
on the other hand, good source material. Some of my costume design friends
would have loved some of the people's clothes out there. It was like some post
apocalyptic setting in the woods. It was inspirational. Granted, not all the
people out there were the greatest to be around all the time, but how was that
different from anywhere else? Every place has its own dark alleys we tend to
avoid. Plus, I'd heard it time and time again that Ocala had a bad reputation
as far as gatherings go, so I couldn't necessarily base my opinions on this
sole experience. I wondered if the next gathering at A-cola would be any better
if I did take Happy's offer to travel with him and Tim. Traveling with Tim
would be rough. Really rough. Happy would be okay, but I didn't know about Tim.
The Cosmic Wonder... </div>
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As it got
dark, and I settled in to try and get some more sleep, I realized it was
February 9th, and it was Mum's birthday. I'd have to get to wifi or a phone
soon.</div>
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DAY 14<br />
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It was
gray out again, and the rain was come and go. I was feeling better than the
previous day, but still not 100%. It was officially the fifth day into the
gathering, and, as I was walking around, I had to admit to myself that it was
losing its appeal. Maybe the weather was getting to me, or maybe it was my
sickness from the day prior. Maybe the repetition of things that were new were
getting to me. We had four days to go before the big day. The food was
definitely a very good quality of the gathering, and a very appealing one, but
there seemed to be a lot of aggression around. It may have had something to do
with all the cops that were constantly patrolling up and down the dirt roads,
"6 up!" was heard constantly up and down the trails. People seemed
aggravated by their presence, likely because so many of them were involved in
illegal activities. I didn't mind them patrolling, but, then again, I wasn't
doing anything illegal.</div>
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I made it
over to Bare Necessities Kitchen. The coliseum was coming together. They had
set up tall posts in a large semicircle around the bliss pit, in front of the
kitchen. A couple of those posts already had tarps backing them, with a couple
of benches under them. There was still lots of work to do. I busied myself
helping to build some of the benches around the bliss pit for a good portion of
the day. We would bury four medium logs about knee high at the corners of the
bench, put two long logs connecting the two front corners and the two back
corners, then spanned the distance with short medium branches for seating. It
was a lot of cutting and a lot of lashing. It was slow tedious work, but it was
getting done.</div>
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As the
sun began getting low, I went back to camp to get warmer clothes on. I
remembered the temperature drop on the road from the last time I was walking
back from Main Circle, so I prepared accordingly. I was thankful I would get
some decent food, since the previous day was pretty much just a can of ravioli.
I thought about it for a second, and realized that I really was thankful for
the food. I'd thought it several times already. The meals were something that
kept their appeal the whole way through, while other experiences kept getting
monotonous. I wanted to let the people serving the food know that I was
thankful. I wanted to say thank you to each and every one of them, so I wrote
it on my bliss. It was see through plastic, so rather than have sharpie ink on
the inside of the container, I wrote it underneath, backwards, so it read from
the inside. This made me happy. </div>
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At Main
Circle, I helped build the fire again. I didn't lead it like I had the previous
time, but that was just fine with me. I was just happy to do my part. By the
time we circled up, it was dark out. Several kitchens were serving, but not all
of them had flashlights. The ones that did have them were the few that were
able to see the "Thank You" on my bliss. Some laughed, some thanked
me back, some said "you're welcome," and generally everyone had a
positive reaction to it. I couldn't stop smiling, even though no one could see
it in the dark. After dinner, I stopped by Stock Pot again. There were plenty
of people there who had spilled over from Main Circle. There was one guitarist
who would play sporadically. I sat and stared at the fire as some girl in front
of me spoke to some other guy about what bullshit college was, and education in
general. They discussed the conspiracies of student debt, the futileness of
joining the workforce, and how corporations run the government. They were well spoken,
and sounded well educated. I believed the girl to be a college dropout, likely
due to the reasons she had been expressing to him.</div>
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I started
to hear rumors of a rave happening down at the river, and it peaked my
interest. There was something new. There were a few people getting together to
head over in a van, so I went over and asked if they had room for one more.
They counted bodies, and told me it'd be a tight squeeze. I told them that if
they were okay with it, so was I. So, the quest to the rave began. I was
suddenly amongst a group of nerds, and it was delightful. We joked about our
little quest being in league with Lord of the Rings. We must get to the rave!
They were naming each other as characters from the movie, and I was dubbed
Gimli the dwarf, apparently for the beard. The girl whose van we were taking
was Frodo, and one guy who was lagging behind was dubbed Smeagol. We stuffed
ourselves into the van. Smeagol and I opened the hatchback, and rode with our
legs dangling out the back. It was our mission to not allow any of the copious
amounts of gear and random items in the back to fall out, and it was quite a
task. Between the bumps, and the sudden stops and accelerations, our
containment skills were tested well. We finally arrived at the river, and made
it to the rave. It might have been the creepiest thing I'd ever seen. There was
a van with a turntable set up in front of it, with a couple of laser lights
aimed at the crowd. The crowd was dispersed along the loop that lead to the
steps and boat ramp. The lights were just enough to make everyone look uniform.
A few people were slowly walking around like panthers stalking their prey,
while most of them stood as still as statues, not moving a muscle except for
their bobbing heads. That's what made it the creepiest thing. The bobbing heads
on statuesque bodies made it seem as if the crowd was possessed, in some kind
of trance. No one was dancing. No one was moving. I could count the amount of
girls out there on one hand, and that was being generous to some. This rave was
clearly not for me. I caught the next ride out back to camp. </div>
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<br />
DAY 15<br />
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I woke up
in a sweat. It was a sunny hot day. Sunny? I pulled the tarp back from my tent
and saw the bright blue sky which I hadn't seen in a few days, and it was
glorious. In the distance I heard the echoes of people shouting,
"DAYBALLL!!!" and, "DAYYYYYYBALL!!" and,
"DAY-BAAAAALL!!!" It was great not to have a dreary, gray, rainy day
for a change. Okay, it had only been two days of gray skies, but it'd felt like
a week. I spent part of the morning drawing the second version of Happy's
chariot. I decided that at some point in the day I'd have to go into town and
connect to some wifi so I could wish Mum a happy belated birthday. Two days was
too late. I finished the drawing, and tracked down Happy to see what he
thought. </div>
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I looked
for him in his camp, but he wasn't there. I tried his RV, but he was out.
Finally I tried Bear Necessities, and there he was, talking to a kid named Jake
about his guitar. Happy was now carrying a walking stick with a bell on it,
which he explained kept the bad spirits away. I showed him the drawing for his
RV, and he loved it. It had the names of the towns for the gatherings, the
coliseum that Bear Necessities was building, the kitchen, palm fronds to
commemorate Ocala, the names of people involved in the kitchen, his friends,
and even a dragon to mark my signature. He showed it off to Baloo and the rest
of the kitchen staff, who seemed thrilled to see their kitchen depicted in a
drawing. There were still a couple of changes Happy wanted to make, but overall
he was pleased. Once the excitement died down, I asked if he was planning on
heading in to town, and he said he was, but he was waiting for Tim. Crap, here
it goes again, waiting for Tim, knowing he'll never show. I decided to wait it
out again. Happy went back to talking to Jake, and asked if he could tune his
guitar back at the RV. Jake obliged, so off they went, and I followed. Happy
had apparently recently acquired a digital tuning device which he was
unfamiliar with, and Jake happened to know how to use it. I've forgotten what
the name of the device was, but it was supposedly the most accurate device to
tune by these days.</div>
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When Jake
done tuning the guitar, Happy changed the conversation to "shiny
rocks." Jake's eyes widened, "you have shiny rocks?" Happy threw
his arms up, exclaiming, "oh boy, do I?!" Then it got a little
strange in my opinion. I've never been exposed to any rock hobbyists, but the
gathering seemed to be teeming with them. Shiny rocks seemed to be some sort of
currency out there, since so many people held them in such high regard. Some
believed them to have healing properties, others stated they were good for
"grounding" you, while others just seemed to like their shininess.
Happy was showing off his peacock feathers. He'd pull out a heavy bag, filled
with big gray rocks, and Jake would marvel over each one. Sometimes Jake would
classify them, categorize them by types, or even call them by their
"street names," and other times he'd just marvel at their mysterious
natures. Happy would watch him with delight, then rush back into his RV, saying
something like, "oh but wait..." He'd come out with a fishing tackle
box, filled with an assortment of stones in each little compartment and Jake
would be astounded by each little pebble. Happy went back in and pulled out a
cardboard box filled with black stones, then a small sack of see-through rocks,
then another cardboard box of beige stones. It seemed orgasmic to them. Jake
would "ooh" and "aah" while Happy giggled and whooped,
clapping his hands in delight. Happy had seemingly saved the best for last,
because he came out of the RV one final time with a tiny decorative box which
seemed like it would hold a jewel inside. He opened it and exposed a milky
white smoothly rounded pebble which was somewhat see-through. Jake gently
pulled it out of the padded box and held it up, looking at the sunlight going
through it. Happy wanted to go to the trade circle and trade these stones for
better stones so he could then take them to the National Rainbow Gathering and
get even better trades. Seemed kind of cyclical to me, but I guess if that's
what you like... Happy seemed to respect Jake's knowledge of stones and rocks,
so he was hoping for guidance in the trade circles. Jake said he'd be more than
happy to help, so they got ready to head out. I could see my ride into town
fluttering away, so I decided to head out on my own.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
HEADY TRADE - a trade where something of value was acquired,
or something of value for trade. </div>
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SHINY - nice, cool, interesting, valuable, or just shiny...</div>
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I got
ready to head out to Front Gate to hopefully get a ride into Ocala which was
about 30 or 40 miles away. As I was reaching Mid Gate, I came across Miguel
whom I'd met a few days earlier. I remembered he was the guy who had read my
blog and told me lots of people knew about me. He introduced me to the girl he
was walking with, Katie. She was his girlfriend, and had just arrived at the
gathering. She told me she was also keeping up with my blog, and I was
flattered. I thanked them both for reading it, and was glad they seemed to be
enjoying it. I told them I hoped to see them at Main Circle that night, but for
the time being I was headed into town. They wished me luck as we parted ways.
They headed down to the main trail, and I kept going towards Front Gate. Part
of the way down, I managed to get a ride to the end of the road from a guy
driving a van. He didn't have room inside, but he offered up his bumper to
stand on. I grabbed on to the railing on the roof of the van and off we went. A
little ways past Front Gate we saw another guy on his way to the road, so he
stood on the bumper next to me. The driver stopped at the last curve before the
hardtop road, and warned us that there was usually a cop stationed at that
intersection, so this was as far as he would take us. We thanked him for the
ride, and walked to the intersection.</div>
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The other
guy's name was Choo-Choo, and he was also looking for a ride in to Ocala. He
apparently had to show up for some court date for some alteration that had
occurred before coming into the gathering. We waited there for a while, and a
couple of cars came in and out, but one had no room, and the other was headed
in another direction. We didn't wait too much longer before a girl drove up
alone in her car. She seemed to know Choo-Choo. She was apparently headed to
Tampa, but didn't mind going through Ocala to drop us off. We got in the car.
Her name was Annie, and she'd just broken up with her boyfriend at the
gathering, or he had broken up with her, I wasn't sure. She decided to leave
and go back to Tampa to get some work. She and Choo-Choo engaged in some idle
chatter for the 30 minute ride. We passed over the bridge where I'd met Bonnie
from Above the Rail Magazine and the side of the road where I'd met the first
Ron who asked me if I was here for the gathering. We passed the spot where my
second tire had popped and I met the second Ron who had asked me about the
Rainbow Family. We passed the Burger King where I'd met the third Ron who'd
asked me if I was one of the Rainbow people. We eventually got to a McDonald's
in Ocala where she dropped us off. I gave her directions to the interstate from
there, and off she went.</div>
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The very
moment I stepped into the McDonald's, I realized just how dirty I'd become out
in the woods. Stepping from outdoors to indoors suddenly allowed me catch my
own aroma, and realize just how much dirt I'd accrued. I went into the
bathroom, and stepped into the handicap stall. I was amused by the sudden
difference from being outside to inside. The AC felt strange, dry. The lights
felt strange, and the cleanliness of the floors and walls were too noticeable,
they stood out to me. I enjoyed sitting on the toilet, rather than crouching
over a hole in the ground. I took full advantage of that. Then, most surprising
of all, was the mirror. I hadn't seen my own reflection in a pretty long while,
and it caught me off guard at first. I had to stare for a second to register my
facial features again. You'd think I hadn't been in a bathroom in five years,
but these were the reactions I had in the moment of it all. I washed my hands,
and the smell of the soap was extremely potent to me, almost repugnant. I
finished in the bathroom, and went to the counter to order some food.</div>
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I sat
down in one of the booths, and got busy trying to get hold of Mum to wish her a
happy birthday. She was just one her way to a doctor's appointment, and asked
if I could Skype after it. It would take her about an hour or so, so I figured
I'd wait. I had plenty of stuff to catch up on with Facebook. As I was going
through way too many notifications, Choo-Choo sat down next to me. He started
talking about his rock collection. He too had shiny rocks. He pulled out a
rock, and told me it was a tiger's eye, and that he'd gotten it on a heady
trade with someone at the Rainbow Gathering in Maine. He then pulled out a
white rock, told me it was an opal, and had traded a less shiny opal for it.
This went on until his collection was meticulously laid out on my table at
McDonald's. He'd told me what each one was, how he'd gotten it, and why he
liked it. He then told me which was his favorite, his second favorite, and why.
He asked me which one of them was my favorite. I looked at them and told him I
liked the way the black one with red veins looked. He explained again what it was
and how he'd gotten it. He then asked me what shiny rocks I had. When I told
him I had none, he seemed bewildered, so he gave me a kick down. He gifted me
one of his white opals. I thanked him, but told him I had nothing to give, much
less shiny rocks. He told me it was okay, but that I really needed to get some
shiny rocks. I asked if I could take a photograph of his collection, just
because it felt so strange to have someone do this in the middle of a fast food
restaurant. He allowed me to take the photo, then put away his collection and
got his own booth on the other side of a wall, assuring me that he'd be right
around the corner if I wanted to chat.</div>
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Once the
hour passed I got on Skype and got into a conversation with Mum and Papi. It
was great to finally talk to them, "face to face." I wished her a
happy belated birthday again, and assured them both I was okay, alive and well.
I did my best to describe what I could of the gathering without worrying them
too much about the people out there. It was hard to put it all into a concise
description. I explained how I'd been camping out there, and how I was hiding
my wagon well. I described my interactions with Happy and the Bear Necessities
Kitchen. I assured them I was eating well and not starving. I tried to explain
what Main Circle was and how everyone called each other "family." I'm
not sure that last one struck the right chord. Mum told me she was glad I'd
found my new family, and that I was so happy there. I tried to explain that I
didn't consider these people my family, but I'm not sure if I mended the
situation. They asked me how I'd be getting back to the gathering. I hesitated
for a second, not wanting to leave them worried that I had no way of getting
back. I'd known that coming out, it was no surprise, but I tend to take on one
problem at a time. I didn't want to lie to them and say I had some sort of ride
when I didn't, so I told them, "therein lies the next adventure." When
they realized I was putting off starting my way back so I could talk to them,
they rushed to say good bye, and wished me luck on my way back. I hoped they
wouldn't worry as much as I imagined they would. The sun was starting to set,
it'd be getting dark soon, and I'd have 30 miles to go, somehow, before getting
back to my tent and all of my supplies.</div>
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</div>
DragonWagonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10258103841458167822noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-221545659137877472.post-16813056732481996112015-04-21T23:41:00.002-07:002015-04-21T23:42:17.275-07:00The Rainbow Gathering pt 2<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 36.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">THE RAINBOW GATHERING <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 36.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">PART 2</span></b></div>
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DAY 8</div>
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The rain
was on and off in the morning, giving the day a lazy start. I remembered one of
the announcements at the main circle was that Bear Necessities was doing all
you can eat pancakes from 10-2, and by the sound of it, they were getting it in
gear. As I was laying in my tent, gathering up the will to move, I heard the
rustling of footsteps nearby. They got closer and closer, then came a man's
voice, "here's a good spot! Oh shit, never mind, there's a tent here.
Damn, almost got lucky!" and then the footsteps faded away. So much for my
top notch security bushes... </div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
On my way
to the kitchen I came across a guy carrying a stick over his shoulder with a
plastic bag tied to the end of it. "Hey, you, with the face! You got
pockets? Good! Gimme your pocket-trash! I need your pocket-trash, I need your
pocket-hash, I need your pocket-stash!" He looked like one of those
classic runaway-from-home kids from the old movies and cartoons, only instead
of his belongings being in the bag, it was trash. I felt through my pockets,
finding some pieces of paper I'd picked up off the trail, and handed them over.
"I knew you were a good hippie! Keep our trails clean brother!" He
threw the pieces of paper in his trash bag, and went down the trail, screaming,
"POCKET-TRASH! I NEED YOUR POCKET-TRASH, I NEED YOUR POCKET-HASH, GIMME
YOUR POCKET-STASH!! HEY, YOU, GIMME YOUR POCKETS!!" </div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
POCKET-TRASH - Trash picked up in the woods, and carried in
pockets until such a time as it can be properly disposed of.</div>
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There was
a reason the pancakes were all you can eat at Bear Necessities. They should've
said all you can bear to eat (get it? "bear?" Don't worry, I'll enjoy
that one myself). They weren't bad, I just didn't go running up for my third
plate. Not that I could make them any better. I wasn't complaining though, I
was, after all, eating freshly made pancakes in the middle of the woods. When
serving them, Baloo would say, "we don't do one. It's two for a dollar,
and three for free!" So you inevitably got three pancakes at a time. If
you had bliss with you, you could get what they called "simple serve
syrup." I'd never heard of it, so I'm not sure if it's a thing, but it's
like a watered down version of syrup. I suspect it may in fact be watered down
syrup... If you didn't have bliss, you'd have to eat them dry, because the
simple serve syrup would get everywhere otherwise, and attract bees. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
As I finished up my second
round of pancakes, I saw Happy walking around. I'd decided to try and get a
ride into town soon, since it'd been over a week since I'd checked in with
family to let them know I'm still alive. I told Happy if he heard of anyone
going into town, to let me know, hopefully I could hitch a ride. As chance
would have it, he was heading in himself, to refill the kitchen's water supply,
and was happy to take me along. I helped him gather up all of the empty jugs,
and loaded them into his RV, making sure to bring my empties along as well. We
loaded up and headed out. As we rolled through Front Gate, he stopped and
pulled out a tall can of beer as he rolled down his window. He handed the beer
to a guy named Mouse, who was wearing a leather vest covered in patches, a
folded up cowboy hat, and less teeth than he had fingers. He seemed thrilled to
see Happy, but even more so when he got the beer. "Greasing the
wheels," Happy said to me as we left. A couple of mobster movies popped
into my head at that point.</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
I was a
little disappointed to see we weren't actually rolling into town. We had gone
less than 5 miles up the road, and stopped at a convenience store. Happy
stopped the RV at the hose, and went in to ask permission to use it. I helped
him hook up the hose and his filter, which he used to fill up his RV first. He
instructed me how to tell when it was full so I could turn the tap off in time,
while he did something inside the RV. After filling it up, I pulled out all of
the empty containers including my own, and filled them up. "Remember,
'don't touch the thing to the thing,' that's the rainbow way," he reminded
me. I recalled a couple of kitchens had said the same thing while serving food.
You don't touch the serving spoon to the bliss, or the bliss to the food pot,
or anything of the sort, thereby preventing the spread of germs. "Don't
touch the thing to the thing." Got it. I took the opportunity with the
hose to wipe my dirt shoes off. Happy saw me, thought it was a good idea, and
had himself a full-on shower with it.</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Once we
were done filling up, we went into the store, where Happy got some fruit, an
assortment of nuts, and a few more cans of beer. "I don't drink, I give
them all to Front Gate. That way they don't give me a hard time. 'Grease the
wheels.'" I looked around the store, but nothing really grabbed my
attention. When I looked at the price of the fruit and thought them to be too
expensive, I came to the realization that I hadn't spent any money the whole
week I was in the woods. I'd been eating decently well, especially when main
circle happened, and hadn't spent a penny. This must be why the gathering
attracts so many of the rougher sort. If you played your cards right, you could
probably follow the gatherings around the country and live well enough. If you
were a local, and the gathering came to town, you'd be hard pressed not to go
and take advantage of the opportunity. </div>
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I didn't
get the opportunity to contact the family, there was no wifi where we were.
When Happy was filling up the gas tank he told me his RV only gets 6 miles to
the gallon, and that all these water runs were putting a dent in his funds. I
didn't feel it right to ask to go farther into town at that point, so we went
back into the woods. Maybe I should've bought some food or something. We
stopped at Front Gate again, and Happy handed another beer over to his buddy
Mouse, and as they were chatting, another guy came up to my window on the
passenger side. His name was Trevor, and just like Mouse, he was wearing a
leather vest covered in patches. He was only missing one or two teeth, but had
a swollen black eye. As I looked around I noticed several more people had black
eyes. I really hoped I wasn't about to get a black eye. We chatted idly about
where we'd gone, what we were doing, and I complimented him on one of his
patches. It was a patch of a skeleton hand giving the middle finger. "Yep,
it's just showin' love to everyone all day." It seemed that, at Front
Gate, saying "fuck you!" and giving the middle finger was their way
of saying "I love you!" as well as punching each other in the eye. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Back at
camp, I was relieved to have my water filled up again. I'd been filling up my
camel pack at different kitchens as much as I could while not being greedy, so
having my own supply gave me comfort. Now that I had a decent source for
hydration, I decided to clear out a larger area for my camp, moving farther
away from the trail. I cleared out a curved trail around some trees, through
some bushes, and when I came up on a young twisted oak tree, I decided it would
make a nice entryway to my camp. I cleared out an area bigger than my wagon and
tent so I'd have a decent amount of room, and set up camp. Once my tent was up
and I was satisfied, I heard Happy wrestling with a tarp nearby. His camp had
been just up the trail from mine, but I hadn't realized we were within earshot
of each other. I went over to see if he needed a hand.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I
helped Happy set up his other tarp, I happened to mention one of my drawings.
He was intrigued. He told me he'd been looking for someone to paint the side of
his RV. He wanted to depict his travels in murals. He asked me if I'd be
willing to do it. I told him I'd be willing to try, but I had no paints that
would work on a vehicle, only water colors. He assured me we could
"manifest" paint. Manifestation was a big thing out at the rainbow
gathering. People never "prayed" something would happen, they
wouldn't "hope" for things they needed, rather they would
"manifest" them. "Alright kids, we need to manifest as many
tarps as we can for the kitchen," I remembered Baloo saying one day. I
remembered Cafe Manifesto which I'd seen on the road. Manifestation was a big
thing out there.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I started
to head over to Bangerang and Launch Pad to get some dinner, but halfway down
there I was stopped by a redheaded guy and a brunette girl who were heading in
the opposite direction. His name was Ohbytheway and hers was Zoe. They told me
they were heading to the new site for main circle, and asked if I wanted to
join them. I mentioned that main circle had been the previous night, and that I
was sorry to disappoint them. Ohbytheway gave me a funny look and smiled,
"main circle is every night of the gatherin', brother." I looked at
him with a clearly surprised look on my face, since he started laughing.
"C'mon brother, we'll take you there." Main circle had been moved
from Bear Necessities to the place I'd found when I went exploring early on,
with the four massive logs set around a large fire pit. I came to find that
this was the site for council circles, where the council members would meet to
make decisions for the gathering. It all sounded pretty mystical. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We waited
around the fire pit, while a few people worked on getting the fire started. We
yelled "CIIIIIRCCLLLLLLE!!" a few times every 10 minutes or so, and
more people kept showing up. There were more than the previous night. We all
held hands, and spread the circle out so everyone could fit. The announcements
were pretty much the same, only a little harder to hear, since the circle had
spread farther so much farther out than the last one. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"Bury your shit!"</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"Bury your neighbor's shit!"</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"Bury your dog shit!"</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"Everybody wants everyone's everything! Have you given
your all today?"</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After the
announcements, the ohm started. It carried through the air serenely, drowning
out the sounds of the forest. Then came, "mamas and babies to the center,
get fed first!" as the kitchens did their rounds as Overboard came around
the circle with the magic hat for donations. I'd never had so much fun trying
to guess what I was eating. I'm not sure I've ever really had to guess before.
It really challenged my preconceived notions of what I liked and didn't like.
Every now and then I'd find I'd been
chewing on an olive, and despite my thorough dislike of them, they weren't so
bad when I didn't know I was about to eat one. My cold salad mixed with my hot
rice, and my noodles had all kinds of vegetables I couldn't entirely
distinguish. I did my best to ask which kitchen was which as they were serving
so I could thank them accordingly. After a hearty dinner, which didn't get a
chance to come around a second time due to the increased number of mouths to
feed, the drums broke out at the fire.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I found
out that many people here didn't like or want or allow their pictures to be
taken for a multitude of reasons, so I refrained from taking as many as I would
have liked. I did my best to stay awake as long as I could, but after all the
clearing I'd done at my camp, and especially after the hearty meal, my eyes
were closing involuntarily. I decided to head back to camp, and as I was
leaving, I heard one person yell, "NIGHTBALL!!" I looked up and saw
the moon was shining as brightly as it had the previous night, only with a
little corner of it missing this time. I heard a few other people following
suit, with "NIIIIGHTBALL!!" and "NIGHT...BAAAAALLLL!!!" and
"NNNNNIGHTBALL!!" before they were out of earshot. I made it back to
my tent, which was still safe, intact, and untouched, and lay down for the
night. I had a nagging itch in my armpit, which I'd thought was just a mosquito
bite, but when I turned the flash light on it, I saw it was a tick, with its
head buried in my flesh. I pulled out the tweezers from my pack, having had
some experience with these, and did my best to pull it off without tearing out
any hairs, or losing its head in my skin. I removed it, killed it, cursed it
for having found such a tender part, and immediately passed out.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
DAY 9</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It rained
most of the day, so I took a lazy day in my tent. The sounds of the pitter
patter on my tarp were soothing and very relaxing, and the cool air kept it
nice inside the tent. I took the opportunity to check for any other rogue ticks
after finding one the previous night, and was pleasantly relieved to make no
new discoveries. I entertained myself by drawing and taking regular naps
throughout the day. I worked on Happy's RV drawing, a layout to see if he and I
were on the same page about how it should look, and a couple of other doodles
of my own. I heard a few people around my camp working on gathering fire wood
and logs for building. It was a well needed day of relaxation. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On my way
to main circle I found a unique looking piece of wood. It had twisted ripples
that came to a point, and one side jutted out. It looked like the makings of a
decent dragon head, so I picked it up and took it with me. I came to find out
it was called something like "lighter knot," and it had something to
do with where a branch came out of a certain type of tree. I didn't really
care, I just wanted something to do with my hands while it was dark and we
waited for main circle. I whittled. I'd never whittled before, so it was an
interesting undertaking. It was slow, it was rough, and it was messy, but it
passed the time. It didn't look good, but it was entertaining, and it was
something I could do by campfire light. It was something to keep my hands busy
while the drummers played, and people danced. It was a good excuse to stay
silent, focused, but still listening to my surroundings.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Main
circle had even more people this time, and double the amount of kitchens showed
up. Overboard happened to be nearby when he was looking for a hat to use as the
magic hat, and asked if he could use mine. So my hat was magic for the night,
and was used to gather funds to feed the family. I felt an odd twinge of pride
for no good reason. The fire twirling after dinner was particularly good this
night. On top of the regular poi and fire hula hoop, someone had brought a bo
staff. Even more impressive though, was the person who had a different style of
poi. His were not balls that were set on fire, but rather chainmail bags with
something inside that burned little glowing flakes. The bags released these
little flakes as they were spun around, giving off a magical display of firefly
type fire flakes floating around. The real treat was when he'd hit the ground
with them, and sent up a huge flurry of them that would dance their way up in
the air. The drumming had taken on a much more intense beat that night.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I met a
few people in the dark like Sonny Boy, Steven, and Miguel. I knew Knot and Bo
from Bear Necessities. We chatted for a while, watching the fire dancing,
listening to the drums. When the crowd started to die down around the fire, we
retreated to the Bear Necessities bliss fire. Once we got there, Miguel asked
my name again, and when I introduced myself as DragonWagon, he seemed thrilled
to meet me. "I was hoping I'd get to meet you out here, I've been reading
up on your blog!" I had to admit I didn't expect anyone to actually read
it when I'd posted it to the rainbow Facebook page, much less have anyone want
to meet me. "Yea, everybody knows about you," Knot chimed in. I
hadn't realized Knot knew anything about it, he'd never mentioned it before. We
quietly shared a few stories of our travels, while sitting around the fire. I
could hear the sounds of drumming and people whooping in the distance as I
headed to sleep for the night.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
DAY 10</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I made up
my mind to get a ride into town so I could contact my family to let them know I
was still alive. 10 days was quite enough of a stretch of radio silence, and I
didn't want my parents to send out a search party into the woods. I was ready
to eat as soon as I got up, so I walked over to Bear Necessities for some all
you can eat pancakes. When I got there, there was little activity, it seemed like
the kitchen hadn't quite revved up yet. I waited around for about an hour and a
half, but no pancakes were getting made. So much for pancakes every day. I
walked down to Launch Pad, and on the found a new kitchen was setting up.
Hippie Hill Kitchen or HHK had been setting up just down the trail from Bear
Necessities. They were setting up their bliss rail as I walked past, which they
were making out of curved branches, so it made a quarter circle. They were
really proud they'd managed to find branches that matched in radius to
accomplish such a unique bliss rail. There was a girl in the kitchen adding
decorations to a branch of her own, "doesn't it look like a phoenix?"
It did indeed resemble the head of a bird, with a neck twisting upward. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Bangerang
was closed as usual, still being too early for them. When I made it to Launch
Pad, they were just about to finish cooking breakfast. I met a guy named
Bubbles, and an older lady named Mama Love. I was astounded by the amount of
respect the elders garnered out in the woods. Everyone would offer to help,
they were brought to the front of lines, served first, and were treated as wise
old folk. When elders spoke, people would shut up and listen. The fact that I
was surprised by this had me questioning what my previous experiences had been
like with the elder. I was used to people dismissing the elderly, ignoring
their advice, not listening to what they had to say. I think part of this has
to do with the fact that the technology of the world has made older folk seem
unknowledgeable in some ways, so they are presumed to be unreliable. If you
can't easily handle a touch screen, access the internet, or easily spew off
something from Facebook, you are presumed to be unwise. Maybe that's just my
take on it. Out in the woods, however, experience ruled. Those who had been
around longer knew more of how things could be done well. They could sit back
and advise people on how they'd done it in their day, and how it'd failed or
succeeded. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Breakfast
was ready, so I made sure to wait a little while before getting in line. I
wasn't about to get yelled at for not ladies the mamas get fed first. I got in
line once it seemed well established, and patiently awaited my turn to eat.
While waiting I heard someone behind me, "hey, DragonWagon, right?" I
looked back to find Smiley smiling at me. I commended him for remembering my
name, "yea, you still gotta show me your wagon some day, I'd like to see
it." I assured him I would, most likely when we were heading out after the
gathering. We got our food, and he went off down the trail.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I sat
down by the kitchen to eat. As I was enjoying my breakfast, I caught a whiff of
soap in the air. I look over to see a cute girl sitting near me, with fresh
clothes, clean hair, unspoiled shoes. She was eating her breakfast, and seemed
just slightly out of place sitting in the dirt. I asked her if this was her
first gathering, to which she said it was. She seemed surprised when I told her
it was my first as well. I guess I was starting to blend in really well, or
maybe I just looked really dirty. She said her name was Amanda, and started
talking about leaving the world behind, that she'd been researching the rainbow
gatherings for some time, and thought it to be a more natural way to live. It
seemed she was in it for the long haul. Mama Rocket's toddler made his way over
to her with a bottle of water and a plate of food. He offered her some extra
food, then proceeded to try and feed her with his fork. She was delighted by
the interaction, and exclaimed what a smart toddler he was. He must have been
about two years old. He would feed her, then eat some himself, then feed her
again. He proceeded to fill her bowl with his water bottle, and she drank some
of it, and he drank the rest. He then took her water bottle, and overfilled the
bowl. She laughed, not minding the waste of water, and attempted to pour some
of the water back into the bottle. She kept exclaiming how intelligent he was
for his age, how tactile his movements were, and how considerate he was. When I
finished my breakfast, I got ready to go, and told Amanda I hoped to see her at
main circle that night. With that I was off.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I walked
out to Front Gate, figuring that if I was going to get a ride, I'd have better
chance out there. It was, after all, the one way to get out of the gathering. I
walked the mile and a half to get out there, only seeing a couple of cars roll
by, all full with hippies in every seat. I figured it might take a while for
someone to ride with. As I approached Front Gate, I could hear some excited
shouting and cheering. When they came into view, I saw Mouse wrestling with
some guy I hadn't met. When I got closer I realized that the one guy was trying
to put a pink blanket around Mouse's shoulders, trying to make him wear it as a
cape. It was an aggressive scuffle out in the middle of the road, Mouse seemed
hell bent on not wearing it. The other guy was laughing, as were the people
surrounding them, all clearly excessively drunk. There were more black eyes
than the last time I'd been out here with Happy. It seemed there were few
people who didn't have at least one black eye. One of the guys in the crowd
stepped in to hold Mouse down, while the guy who was wrestling with him took
the opportunity to put the pink blanket on him. There was an uproarious cheer
from the crowd as he managed it. Mouse tore off his cape as soon as he was
released, threw it to the ground and stomped on it a couple of times. The crowd
dispersed with some excited chatter and laughter, and people went back to
drinking.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One of
the people in the crowd saw me and walked over. It was Travis whom I'd met on
my way in with Happy. He was still wearing his patched vest, but his black
eye's severity had lessened. I greeted him by name, which he seemed surprised I
knew. His demeanor seemed to have changed as soon as I said his name, his
shoulders had dropped, and he began to smile, asking what I was doing out
there. I mentioned I was hoping to catch a ride into town, and he said there was
already someone else who'd been waiting for one as well. He asked what I needed
to go in for, so I mentioned I was just hoping to get into some free wifi to
contact my family. "Oh, you need to get on Facebook or somethin'? Here,
use my phone." He handed me his cell phone, to my complete astonishment. I
thanked him profusely, as I logged in and sent a quick message out. I let my
family know that I was on a borrowed phone, so I was just sending out a
message, I was still alive, doing well, that I'd made it okay to the woods, and
that I loved them. I thanked him again when I handed the phone back, and made
my way back to camp. I didn't really want to stick around too long, lest I come
out with my own black eye.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Back at
my camp, I decided to sit outside the tent and draw for a while. I tried
sitting down on some palm fronds I'd cut down, but spent more time brushing off
ticks than drawing. They would crawl up under my pant legs, but I would feel
them until they were past my knees, resulting in a periodically awkward jumping
and flailing to get them off. Ticks are apparently very stubborn creatures when
they think they are about to be flicked off. They curl up their little legs and
hunker down, making it very difficult to remove them, even when they haven't bitten
into flesh yet. I concluded, after jumping up the fourth or fifth time in 10
minutes, that it was pointless. I gave up on sitting and drawing, and decided
it would be a better use of time to make a new shitter, just in case the
situation arose. I cleared out a trail away from my camp, into some thicker
bushes, turned a corner with it, and cleared out an area. I dug a new small
trench in the dirt by the time the sun was beginning to set. It was almost time
for main circle.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I
gathered up my bliss and the lighter knot I was whittling, and made my way to
the main council area, where main circle was again being held. There were less
people there that night, and it seemed fewer kitchens had cooked. I whittled by
campfire light while we waited for people to show up. When there seemed to be
no more coming, we formed the circle, heard the announcements, ohmed, then
ate. There were no fire dancers that
night, unless they'd shown up much later. I'd left pretty early in the night. I
decided to go see what was going on at other places, and found my way to Shut
Up and Grow it. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They were
serving some delicious pasta which actually had some sort of meat in it. It may
have been some hot dogs, but it was the first meat I'd had in a while, so I was
more than happy to eat it. I joined the people at the bliss fire by the
kitchen. They'd dug out a decently sized pit for their fire, and even had a
beat up couch next to it. There was a middle aged couple sitting on the couch,
with their kids running around the fire. There were a few more people scattered
around the fire. I sat on an empty spot by the fire, and ate my pasta. The kids
were running back and forth from the kitchen to the fire, bringing back
whatever cardboard boxes and scraps they could find to feed the flames. They
seemed to be less than 10 years old, but were very adamant that they knew
everything about fire, how to start one and keep it going. They were certain
that adding as much cardboard as possible was the way to go. When they added a
few too many boxes into the flames, we were all forced to draw away from the
fire pit due to the sudden bursts of heat. The kids were really proud of their
accomplishments. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On my way
back from Shut Up and Grow it, a few people were standing around the trunk of a
car. It was dark, so I couldn't make out what they were doing, but as I was
walking past, one of the girls said, "show me your butthole!" I have
to admit, I was completely taken aback. I don't think I've ever heard those
words in that order, much less be asked to do so. "If you don't show me
your butthole, then you're probably a cop." I laughed and assured her that
I was not a cop, and she said, "that's what a cop would say." I told
her I would rather not expose my butthole to such vulnerability, to which she
answered, "then you must be a cop. In that case, we're not giving you any
cake!" I marveled out loud at the fact that they had cake in the woods. I
apologized for disappointing her and her friends, "whatever, can I get a
hug, then?" That I could do. We hugged it out, and I told them to enjoy
their cake as I continued on my way. This was, by far, one of the odder
encounters I'd had.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On the
way I saw about seven sheriff cars patrolling the dirt roads. The echoes of
"6 UP!!" were constantly being repeated across the trails. I made it
back to the Bear Necessities Kitchen, and began to whittle by the fire. There
were several people just casually sitting and laying around the fire, with a
couple of guitar players taking turns playing. The crowd was very appreciative
of the music. Every time one of them would finish a song, people would thank
him for playing. I realized that was something I hadn't really seen much of in
my life. Appreciation for the musician. Maybe I've been so oversaturated with
music that is perfectly recorded and instantly available that I forget to
appreciate the efforts of the actual musician behind it. Live music has always
turned into something happening in the background at a bar or a restaurant, but
out here it was important. There weren't any radios or speakers in the woods,
only the efforts of the people sitting in front of me, and they were flawed,
which made me appreciate it even more. Hearing them make mistakes reminded me
of the difficulty of their skills. Watching them stumble and continue on showed
me their determination and strength of character. I felt a little silly when I
came to understand that if they hadn't brought their guitars and mustered the
courage to play them in public, running the risk of witnessed failure, we'd
have no music by the fire in the middle of the night, in the middle of the
woods. The music attracted more people over, just as much as the light and
warmth of the fire did. No one seemed to really be talking. Most people's eyes
were affixed on the flickering flames. Others had their eyes closed. A couple
watched the guitarists' hands. I whittled. We were all just there. There was
some unspoken sense of community among strangers. I'd met two or three of the
people around the fire, the rest were completely unknown to me, but there we
all were, sharing the same fire, listening to the same music, living the same
moment.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
DAY 11<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">
The
morning started with picking a tick off my waist line. This new camp site
seemed to be filled with them. It was a hot morning, and I didn't feel much
like going anywhere just yet. I stayed in my tent, in the shade of the tarp,
with the tent door wide open. I decided to work on Happy's Chariot to pass the
time. It was a battle to find comfort over time while working in the cramped
space allowed by my one-man tent. When I got the design done, I tracked down
Happy to show him. I found him in his hammock, and he really seemed to like it.
We threw some ideas back and forth, and I got a better idea of what he wanted.
He mentioned he'd be going in to town later, and I asked to ride along. He told
me it'd be fine, but he was waiting on Tim to show up in order to go. I decided
I'd kill some time by getting some food.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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I walked
down to Launch Pad Kitchen, and noticed many more cars and RV's parked out on
the road. This place was getting filled up quickly now. I made it to the
kitchen, but they weren't serving. I checked Bangarang, knowing they wouldn't
even be awake anytime soon, and found that I was right. I walked back to
Happy's camp to check if Tim had shown up yet, but he hadn't. I went back to my
camp to sit down and draw, but the ticks were especially swarming by that time.
I couldn't sit for more than 20 seconds without at least three of them trying
to crawl up my legs. After some time, I went back to check on Happy, but Tim
still hadn't arrived. The Cosmic Wonder seemed to be quite unreliable. It was
getting to be late in the afternoon, more than 4 hours later than Happy had
planned on leaving, and he was done waiting. He decided we'd head out without
him. </div>
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It was a
quick trip into town to gas up the RV and get some groceries. We stopped at
Walmart, where I got some cheap acrylic paints and brushes so I could paint the
outside of the RV. To keep it cheap I only got red, yellow, blue, black and
white paints. It would make an interesting challenge to have to mix all the
colors I'd need. On the way back to the woods, Happy was telling me about his
travels, as I navigated for him. He'd been on the road for a few months, riding
alone, until he picked Tim up in Gainesville on his way to Ocala. Happy called
Tim his "road dog." They'd apparently agreed on an arrangement where
Happy would drive, and Tim would finance the trip. It seemed the Cosmic Wonder
got some sort of disability pay, and would use it to fund Happy's travels as
long as he were allowed to ride along. Happy seemed pleased with the financial
backing, but was struggling with Tim's characteristics. He was unstable,
erratic, argumentative, unreliable, and seemingly very selfish and
inconsiderate. When we stopped at a red light, Happy turned to me, and asked me
if I'd like to come along. He told me I would make a great navigator, and that
I seemed like a cool and chill guy to balance out the Cosmic Wonder's crazy. He
wanted to travel the Rainbow Road, going from gathering to gathering. Ocala was
one of the regional gatherings, and there were two happening every month in different
parts of the country, until the yearly national gathering happened, and then
the international one. He explained that if he timed it right, he could travel
around with it for at least a year, and with Tim's financing, he'd have no
troubles. </div>
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ROAD DOG - 1. a friend one travels with. 2. an actual dog
one travels with.</div>
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I had to
think about it for a bit. This was a scary invitation. One the one hand, of all
the people I'd met at the gathering, Happy seemed to be the most level headed
and trustworthy. On the other hand, Tim was not. This would mean getting in a
vehicle, and living in close quarters with both of them, possibly over long
periods of time. This would mean, somehow, fitting all of my belongings into an
RV where they would be easily accessible by them. This would mean trusting
strangers. Then again, it would be an adventure. It would be an easier form of
travel. It would be more experiences I'd not had. It would open up more doors
than I'd had, and if Tim really was willing to finance the whole trip, it would
be an affordable way to travel. The Rainbow Gathering had allowed me to live
for almost two weeks spending a minimal amount of money, and eating well. There
had been shady characters along the way, but avoiding the wrong ones seemed to
be working out alright. I'd heard enough times that the Ocala Regional Rainbow
Gathering had a bad reputation, and was not necessarily indicative of what a
Rainbow Gathering could be, so experiencing another one could be a better
experience. I decided to tell Happy I'd think on it a while.</div>
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As we
returned to the woods we noticed there was a noticeable increase in the amount
of cars parked in the road. They were starting to stretch as far as we could
see, parked bumper to bumper, but luckily still not making it out as far as
where we were settled. On the way in Happy stopped to talk to a guy named 6-8,
presumably named so because he seemed to be 6'-8" tall. He was quite
drunk, his speech was slurred, and I was quite impressed he managed to stumble
the few feet towards the RV. He asked Happy if he had any beer he could have.
Happy asked me to go in the back and bring out one of the tall cans he'd just
purchased. Once 6-8 was appeased, we continued on. Happy explained that 6-8 was
one of the people who helped him out when he had some trouble in his original
camping spot. Apparently there was a group of people who let their aggro dog
run loose on the road, and caused some trouble for Happy. I can only speculate
how 6-8 helped the situation. </div>
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I missed
main circle that night, but didn't mind so much because it was so cold out. I
was used to my old flip flops keeping my feet somewhat warm since they were
shaped exactly to the form of my feet. These new flip flops were stiff and
slick, allowing cold air to flow under the bottoms of my feet. I hung around
the fire by Bear Necessities, whittling by the flickering fire light. At one
point Happy was in the kitchen, announcing that he'd brought ice cream and
cones. "FREE ICE CREAM IN THE WOODS!!!" was repeated a couple of
times until it was all gone. That night, as I was lying down to sleep in my
tent, I heard the echoes from distant groups shouting, "WE LOOOOVE
YOUUUUUUUUU!!!" I picked another tick from the back of my leg, and went to
sleep.</div>
DragonWagonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10258103841458167822noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-221545659137877472.post-27008209539667106412015-03-13T18:54:00.000-07:002015-03-13T18:54:12.357-07:00The Rainbow Gathering pt I<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">MY WALK TO
THE RAINBOW<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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DAY 1</div>
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I woke up
early that morning, got out to Burger King and said my goodbyes online. I
wasn't sure how long I'd be in the woods, or out of contact, so I figured it'd
be good to touch base first. I also decided to post a picture of myself to the
Rainbow Gathering Facebook page, explaining that this was going to be my first
gathering, and how I'd encountered the 3 Rons who told me about it. I included
a link to the blog in case anyone felt like a lengthy read. When I was done
there, I found the nearest post office and mailed off my two commissions I'd
finished at Anon's place. Then, the walk began.</div>
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It was a
familiar walk this time, going back the way I came. The BK I'd just left was
where the third Ron asked me about the Rainbow Gathering. I passed Silver Springs,
which I'd come through on a flat tire and had met the second Ron riding his
bike. I came to the bridge where the first Ron had pulled over to talk about
the gathering, and the lady had waited for me with a camera to write an article
about my journey. This time though, there were no Rons, no ladies with cameras,
and, thankfully, no flat tires. I walked about 5 or 6 miles when I was passing
by a BBQ restaurant. I considered going in for lunch. I told myself that if I'd
been walking for at least two hours, I would stop in and eat, otherwise hit the
next one. I looked at the time only to see I was 10 minutes short of the two
hours, so I kept moving. </div>
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As I
continued on another mile or two, a pickup truck turned around up ahead and
went to my side of the road, riding on the grass. They were creeping slowly as
I approached, so I veered completely off the bicycle lane to allow them room to
drive back on the road, but they matched my movement with their truck, heading
right for me. I stopped. They kept creeping forward until they drove up next to
me. "Are you one'a them rainbows?" The question came from the
passenger's side, where a weathered skinny older woman sat. In the driver's
seat I could see a larger woman around the same age. I told them I was headed
that way. "Oh good, we got one of yours, but he don't know where it
is." I gave them the directions I was using, heading toward Alexander
Springs. "Great, thanks! Hop on in, we'll take you there, too." I
thanked them kindly, but told them I was fine to walk. "What?? Walk? Are
you crazy? Get in." Again I declined politely, explaining that my wagon
was too heavy to load, and that it would only take me a few days to get there
anyways. "Well, we're not leaving you here. Come on, we'll get you loaded
up." At this point the third passenger and a dog came out from the back
seat of the cab, hidden until now. He was taller than I, and seemed strong. He
came out, looked at the wagon, then at the bed of the pickup, and said,
"We got this, come on, Bear." I rolled the DragonWagon to the back of
the pickup, warned him again of the weight, then proceeded to struggle to get
it loaded up with his help on the other side. After some awkward movements and
some serious questioning of my need for these things, we got the wagon up on the
truck. We loaded in and set off.</div>
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He told
me his name was Clue as he offered me a tall can of beer. I politely declined
the offer as he continued to drink his own. He had been walking and hitchhiking
for a couple of years. He said this was the first time he was traveling with
his dog, but he'd had others along the way. He said his dog's name was Houdini,
which confused me, since I thought I'd heard him call him Bear. "Oh, no.
You're Bear." Again, I was confused. "I seen it when we found you,
you have the spirit of a bear about you. Din't anyone tell you that
before?" I couldn't say anyone had. There had been some jokes with friends
while camping that I resembled a bear of sorts, but never told I had the spirit
of a bear. Clue started explaining his spiritual experiences, abilities, and
affinities. All of it was Greek to me. He was some sort of healer, who was on
some stretch of a certain level of his spiritual journey. He spoke of auras and
vibrations, and a multitude of other things that were beyond my own
understanding. The two ladies up front seemed to have their own knowledge on
the subject, so the conversation was mainly kept between the three of them. The
dog and I shared a look of confusion to all the noise around us. They had
picked up Clue and Houdini at a gas station just up the road, and were really
thankful they'd found me because they didn't know where they were going. They
had planned to head to the previous year's site and hope for the best.</div>
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After
about thirty minutes of driving, we got to Alexander Springs. This was as far
as my directions went, other than, "you'll see them when you get there,
can't miss it." We weren't seeing anyone, and were starting to feel like
we'd missed it. There were a few people in the parking lot to the spring, and a
couple of staff members. "Ask him if he knows where they are,"
suggested Clue, pointing to one of the staff. We pulled up to him and the lady
in the passenger seat called to him, "we got a couple of Rainbows, givin'
them a ride to the gatherin'. You know where it's at?" You could tell this
guy had been asked the same thing quite a few times. He gave us simple
directions leading back the way we came about a mile, then turn into the woods.</div>
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We came
to a dirt road simply labeled "18," turned into it and drove for
about two mile. All to be seen on either side of the road were trees and bushes
with no signs of clearings. We arrived at a spot on the road that had five or
six trucks parked on the right side. Each vehicle looked more decrepit than the
next. There were people standing around in the road, and a few in the bushes by
the trucks. There were tarps that were put up over a smoking fire, and a couple
of trailers unhitched by the road. There were a few tents set up, boxes of
canned food strewn about, a couple of smaller camp fires, and foldable camping
chairs were thrown around the fires. The lady driving stopped the truck,
"well, guess we're here." Clue and I exited the truck, looking
around. Everyone here had leather jackets, torn pants, tattoos on every visible
inch of skin, piercings all over, teeth missing, and at least one beer in hand.
There were dogs all around, some sleeping, some barking incessantly. Some dogs
were tied to trees or trucks, others were roaming around freely. I was a little
apprehensive about the sight of it all, it definitely was not what I was
expecting. I guess I had been expecting to see tie dye clothes, John Lennon
sunglasses, and guitars.</div>
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The two
ladies were ready to go, so we went to unload the truck. I went to get the DragonWagon
down, and as I opened the tail gate, three of the leather dressed guys followed
me, "need a hand?" I thankfully accepted their help, and between the
four of us got the wagon down with no problem. I was completely surprised at
their willingness to help. As the wagon wheels hit the ground I realized I was
there, I'd made it, and a week earlier than I'd expected. After seeing the
state of the place and the type of people around, I knew I no longer had any
idea what to expect from this Rainbow Gathering. We waved goodbye to the two
ladies as the truck drove off in the direction we came, disappearing from
sight.</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 36.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">THE RAINBOW
GATHERING<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 36.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">part I</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 48px; line-height: 55.2000007629395px;"><b><br /></b></span><b><span style="font-size: 36.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"></span></b></div>
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DAY 1</div>
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So, there
I was, DragonWagon in tow, looking at the group of people in the woods who
resembled a biker gang. The three who had helped me off load the wagon had
already dispersed anonymously back into the crowd. Everyone was drinking a
beer, smoking a cigarette, or both. I moved around the trailer parked by the
road to get a better look at the tarps, and found that there was a structure
under them where the smoke was coming from. This was a makeshift kitchen, with
a railing made of twisted and curvy tree trunks, a counter top cut out of
smaller branches all lashed together, and a Lincoln-logged stove top. I parked
the wagon next to the trailer and walked around within sight of it for a bit. Clue
stayed by the trailer, trying to get a handle on Houdini, whose nerves seemed
to be rattled by all the other dogs around. I talked to a couple of people
standing and sitting around a fire, but didn't get much more than grunts or
growls. I asked if this was the Rainbow Gathering, "Uh-huh." I asked
if that was a kitchen they'd set up, "Yup." I mentioned this was my
first gathering, "grunt." Okay... I looked back to the road where the
two ladies in the pickup truck had disappeared, only to see an empty dirt road.
I turned to the kitchen, but not much was going on there either. I talked to
one of the people who seemed to be somehow involved in the on goings of the
kitchen. "This is Front Gate," he began to explain when I told him
this was my first time out here, "we're like the security for the
gatherin'. The real gatherin' is happenin' farther in, 'bout a mile n' a half." With that, he excused
himself and walked off to argue with someone who was peeling potatoes. Okay, so
this wasn't the main gathering. That was some good news.</div>
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I walked
back to the trailer where Clue was still trying to calm his dog down. I told
him what I had just learned, and said I was planning on walking the mile and a
half to the main site. He asked if he could come with, so we got ready to go.
There was a haggard old man sitting in a fold out chair near us who, as we were
about to leave, said, "ya'll have fun out there, but remember, you gots to
leave your alcohol here. No alcohol past this point." I noticed Clue had
stuffed the last two beer cans he had into his pack, and seemed not to hear
him. Off we went, past Front Gate, and on to the gathering.</div>
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We walked
a deserted road for just over a mile, with nothing to be seen other than trees
and bushes. We eventually came up on some parked cars in the distance, and a
few people walking up the road. As we got closer, I got a better look at them.
There were about five people walking together, a couple of them with dogs on
leashes. Their clothing was torn, worn out, patch-worked together, and full of
holes. It seemed like the threads were wasting away, right off their bodies.
They had unkempt, somewhat dreaded hair, and an assortment of piercings between
the five of them. The first things they said when we came within earshot was,
"loving you, family!" Not something you'd expect this group to
exclaim out on the street. "Welcome home, welcome here," was the next
greeting we got from them, as we stopped to let the dogs get acquainted. The
two dogs of theirs were very keen to get a good whiff of Houdini, but he had
different ideas. Houdini got his guard up, becoming very aggressive, to the point
where Clue had to pick him up like a baby to keep him calm. "Sorry, he
ain't used to other dogs." We asked if this was the main site, but were
told we were almost there. We'd have to get to the corner of the road, and we'd
be there. One of them claimed to be part of Nick at Night, and offered us a
cigarette each. I declined the offer, while Clue took one for himself. </div>
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As we
went farther down the road, we began to see more cars and RV's and people.
Everyone seemed to have the same look as front gate and the group of five. Torn
clothes, patches on pants and jackets and vests, chains hanging from belt
loops, big heavy boots, piercings, tattoos, etc. We got to the corner of the
road to find a small camp fire with a small circle of people around it. Some were
sitting on fold out chairs, others on blankets and tarps, and some were sitting
right on the dirt. As we came closer, one of them turned around to greet us,
but his face was familiar. It was Priest, whom I'd met in Ocala before heading
over. "You made it," he said to me, "you hungry?" Clue and
I both nodded our heads, and Priest lead us back up the road a few yards, and
into a trail in the woods. I followed the best I could with the DragonWagon in
tow, which was not designed for rough forest trails. I maneuvered tight
clearings, struggled with big roots on the ground, and did my best to not run
over people heading in the opposite direction. Just as I was about to call it
quits and go back to the dirt road, we got to a clearing and Priest said,
"welcome to Bangerang Kitchen."</div>
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Looking
around I saw a few tents, a couple of burned spots where camp fires had been
set up, and a big tarp overhead waving in the breeze that had "Bangerang"
painted on it. We passed under the tarp, which you had to bend down to avoid
getting clothes-lined, and stepped into the kitchen. There was a Lincoln-logged
stove, just like front gate, but no railings or counter tops. There was a tent
a few feet away from the stove where their food supplies seemed to be stored.
They were cooking something, and it smelled delicious. We were offered fried
bread with tomato sauce, which we graciously accepted. "Where's your
bliss?" I was asked when it was my turn to receive the food. Crap, bliss?
What the hell is that? I must have had a dumb-founded look on my face, because
he went on to say, "your bliss? you know? Something to put the food into.
A plate or bowl or something." Ah, of course, bliss. I guess I should have somehow
known... "Here, just hold out your hands," and as I did, he used his
tongs to put the bread in my hands, and ladled some sauce right on it. As I bit
into the delicious bread, I was looking around at the people around me who were
also eating. Some, like me, were eating straight out of their hands, while
others were using plastic travel bowls, empty food cans, pieces of cardboard,
and an assortment of other random things as "bliss."</div>
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After a
couple of pieces of bread, Clue came up to me and told me he'd heard there was
a river around the corner and up the road. He said he wanted to camp there,
maybe do some fishing the next day. I liked the idea of being near some water,
so I agreed. Priest told me it was about 3 or 4 miles up the road. At this
point it occurred to me that this was not the same Priest I'd met in Ocala.
Here, he was different, kinder, more in his element. He didn't come off as rude
or boastful, just kind and helpful. It was a curious difference to find in
someone in such a short time. Clue and I finished our bread, and set off
towards the river as it was nearing sunset. I wondered how many people had had
the same idea we did of camping out there. I wondered if we'd have any room to
camp somewhere decent. </div>
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During
the walk to the river I kept having to slow down to Clue's pace. Houdini kept
stopping to sniff things next to the road, and Clue was just walking slower
than I was used to. He seemed to tire by the second mile. This was a little
irritating, since it was almost dark, and I wanted to get my camp set up soon.
When we did finally get there, there was absolutely no one around. The river
was completely desolate. Not at all what I had expected. I assumed this is
where people would want to camp, but I guess the 4 mile walk worked as a
deterrent. We walked down a couple of trails which eventually had just become
completely overgrown, and found no clearings to camp in. We decided we'd have
to set up next to the road and figure something else out in the morning. We set
up camp, and started a small campfire. Clue offered to cook some rice he'd
brought, and I offered him a couple of the hard-boiled eggs Anonymous Artist had
given me before heading out. He shared his portion with his dog. The
conversation that followed was unnerving and unsettling, and had me rethinking
my companionship with Clue.</div>
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As we
ate, Clue seemed to become more comfortable around me, and began to share more
about himself. Since I tend to stay silent most of the time, this seemed to
give him more opportunities to speak. There was a lot that was said that I
can't remember, but the basic gist of it was that Clue was on the run.
According to him, he was being tracked by the government for his spiritual
abilities. He said there was a branch of the military that wanted to use his
mind as a weapon, and that he was constantly under psychic attack from people
around the world. He told me he had a hard time maintaining his sanity over the
years, and wasn't sure what to do. I'm no psychologist, but he seemed to
possibly show signs of depression, narcissism, superiority complexes, and
illusions of grandeur. He stressed the idea that he was very powerful, and that
people were after him because of it. At one point he asked me to make sure
Houdini was okay if anything should happen to him while we were out here. On
that note, I told him how tired I was, and headed into my tent to sleep. I did
not sleep, however. All I could do was wonder what Clue was going to do that
night, and what the hell I was going to do the next day. To add to my worries,
my sleep deprivation was ensured by the wind rustling my tarp, and a couple of
cars that drove in and out of the area. I was certain at this point that I had
arrived to the gathering far too early, and wondered if I should just leave the
next day. It was a long night of listening to sounds from the tent next to me,
wondering what was going to happen, knowing we had walked three to four miles
away from the nearest people. </div>
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DAY 2</div>
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The
morning was cold, and though I didn't sleep much at all, I was up before the
sun. I walked around ruminating on the events of the night before, and made up
my mind to relocate my camp, somewhere closer to where other people were. I
walked around the area as the sun came up, and found the river was a beautiful
copper color. This was a really nice place, all things considered. As I started
to pack my camp, Clue woke up. I told him my plan to move, and he said he'd do
the same. As we were packing, two ladies drove up with their kayaks on their
car. As they were off loading their vessels, Clue asked them if they had any
"extra supplies." They seemed confused, and when one of them asked
what sort of supplies he needed, he vaguely said camping or food supplies. She
said they didn't have any supplies, but were willing to give him some of the
food they had packed for their trip. I tried to say it wasn't necessary, but at
this point they insisted, obviously thinking from his request that we were
desperate. They gave us ziplock bags of nuts and cut up fruit, and a couple of
bottles of water. Again I insisted it wasn't necessary, but they weren't
backing down. They asked if we could pray together, so we held hands in a
circle, and she asked that God watch over us. I felt silly. We didn't need the
food they had packed for their trip, and felt bad that they thought we did. I
was a little upset with Clue for guilting them into thinking that we did.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Once the
two ladies set off on their kayaks, I finished packing the rest of my stuff,
and got ready to head out. Clue followed along with Houdini at his side. His
walk was slower than the night before, and he kept stopping for one reason or
another. Eventually he told me he had to stop, but for me to keep going. I was
glad to. I felt a little bad for abandoning him, but not enough to do anything
about it. As I kept walking, a couple of cars and pickup trucks drove past in
the direction of the river. After some time, one of the pickup trucks came back
in the same direction I was going, and as they passed I saw Clue and Houdini in
the bed of the truck. He seemed to have gotten himself a ride back. "We're
headin' into town, what kind of supplies do you need?" He asked as they
drove by. I assured him I was fine with what I had, and he said we'd meet up
later. A little guilty part of me hoped we wouldn't.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I got
close to the corner of the dirt road where I had seen Priest, I came across two
people scribing something in the dirt. It seemed like some sort of map they
were drawing out, and were deep in discussion over it. I decided not to
interrupt, and meant to walk on by, but as I passed one of them greeted me. He
introduced himself, "my name used to be 'Lucky Joe,' but after the
accident they just call me 'Crazy Joe.'" Good to know. The other guy's
name was Cosmic Wonder, or Tim for short. Interesting. I liked Crazy Joe, he
seemed like a nice guy. Tim, on the other hand, was a little mentally unstable.
He kept explaining the same thing over again because he'd go off on tangents, and
kept interrupting himself to tell Joe and myself not to interrupt him (even
though neither of us made a sound), and then explained why he had such a hard
time explaining things when he's interrupted. At one point, Joe explained that
Tim was an empath, and could sense what people were thinking and feeling, so
just feeling something was like interrupting him. Again, interesting. After a
couple more niceties, I excused myself, telling them I was looking for
somewhere to camp, and went up the road towards the corner.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I
reached the corner, I found the same little campfire from the day before, but
the circle of people was more abuzz than before. They had blankets and
handkerchiefs in front of where they were sitting, with a seemingly random
assortment of objects displayed upon them. They had patches, pipes, beads, tiny
tools, clothes, shoes, pieces of metal or plastic, and a number of other random
things. This was what they called the Trade Circle. Anyone could come up,
secure themselves a spot around the circle, display their wares, and offer
barters to other people who walked by to peruse the goods. I sat around and
watched for a few minutes. The people who were here weren't exactly the sort
that I'd feel safe around though. They were rough and aggressive. One guy,
sitting at his tent by the corner, had demon horns tattooed on his forehead.
Another guy, standing around the circle, was inserting 4 inch nails into his
nostrils. It occurred to me by then that if I was going to stay at this
gathering, I'd have to set up my own camp, and maintain some privacy. It was my
hope that if I gave it some time, the more appealing sort of people might
arrive.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I started
walking up the road, back towards the river, to find a secure location. I
walked past a tent with a sign that read "Cafe Manifesto, while supplies
last." I walked by some RV's, parked cars with sleeping bags set up
inside, and several campfires that were dug right next to the road. Eventually
I reached a part of the road that was deserted, far from other campers. I
picked a distinguishable dead tree near the road, and used it as my landmark.
This would be my camp. I parked the wagon on the road, pulled out my hatchet,
and began to clear a path into the woods. I made it about 20 feet into the
woods, then turned a corner to be out of sight. I cleared an area big enough
for my tent and my wagon. I had to chop up a few hefty logs to roll the wagon
through the path, one of which I stuck in the ground as an entrance post to my
camp. I thought I might carve something out of it, or hang a sign from it once
more people had arrived, who knows. By the time I got the wagon in, it was time
for some food. I decided to head back to Bangerang to get something to eat. I
remembered, though, that the last time I was there I was lacking in the
"bliss" department, so I pulled out the plastic container I'd had the
boiled eggs in, and attached a string to it so I could strap it over my
shoulder (Thank you Belva for the lock-top container! Sorry I didn't get the
chance to give it back). As I walked through the newly cleared path, I set some
of the bushes back in place to hide the entrance to my camp. Paranoid? Maybe...
but after the rumors of theft I'd been hearing, and after meeting some of the
colorful individuals I had so far, I felt it was justified.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYra6w40yHrM4oRAWcir-GmXtYRgXQHIv9haKEhmzl_XOHaxQuLgrxJVzEfeULnsLeipjqlwTGxnOb2mK6BUEgl4tIkvarveKgkzAHnozgDg0oPQ_vaBi4804CAIRxsurOiA_u9brmHrpb/s1600/IMG_8033.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYra6w40yHrM4oRAWcir-GmXtYRgXQHIv9haKEhmzl_XOHaxQuLgrxJVzEfeULnsLeipjqlwTGxnOb2mK6BUEgl4tIkvarveKgkzAHnozgDg0oPQ_vaBi4804CAIRxsurOiA_u9brmHrpb/s1600/IMG_8033.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was
walking through the trail to Bangerang which had given me such trouble while
pulling the DragonWagon, when out of nowhere some guy asked, "are you
DragonWagon?" This came as a surprise, since I didn't expect anyone other
than Clue, Priest, Tim, or Joe to know the name. "I saw your post on the
Facebook page. I was wondering if I'd get to meet you." He didn't look
like the people out on the road. He had a beard and long hair tied back in a pony
tail, but his clothes weren't dirty or torn. He seemed well spoken, too. He
introduced himself as Overboard, and explained a few things about the
gathering. He told me there were going to be about 12 kitchens setting up, and
that this would be one of the biggest gatherings they'd had in Ocala. He
assured me most people would show up a couple of weeks later, and that this was
going to be a great year for it. I thanked him as he left, and I set off to Bangerang.
12 kitchens? That's quite a lot. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I reached
Bangerang, they were in the middle of cooking some sort of rice. As I
approached I saw a group of people around the stove. Two were using hollow
poles to blow air into the fire to keep it lit and hot, while three or four
others were breaking up crab legs. There seemed to be one person in charge of
cooking the meal, instructing the others, while two more worked with spices and
other supplies. I stepped in and offered to help. They gladly accepted my
offer, but said I had to wash my hands first. One girl handed me a plastic
gallon bottle of water which was labeled "HANDWASH," and proceeded to
pour it on my hands as I scrubbed. I realized very quickly that this was a
diluted solution of bleach from the smell of it. I then went over and started
breaking crab legs with them, pulling all the meat out and into a big pot. I
was impressed at this point, crab legs in the woods? Very unexpected. It was
some kind of seafood rice jambalaya. After some waiting and chatting, the meal
was ready, and those who helped make it were the first to be served, and were
served well. That's when I noticed that my bliss was of the larger variety, so
it seemed to encourage a larger portion. No complaints here, and only a twinge
of guilt.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I went
back to my secret camp spot to find the bushes undisturbed, and the DragonWagon
untouched. I set up my tent, and passed out just before sunset. It'd been a
long day.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
DAY 3</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I awoke
before sunrise to the sounds of dogs barking, people howling, drums beating far
away, and even some guitars echoing in the distance. I lay in my tent, soaking
it in, managing to get a few more winks of sleep. At one point I heard some
people fairly close by yelling, "GOOD MORNIN' VIETNAAAAAAAM!"
followed by, "IT'S VIET-FUCKIN'-NAM!!!" I was up early, so I decided
to clear out a larger area for my camp. It was thoroughly overgrown, so it was
no simple task, but it kept me busy for a while. I cleared out an area next to
the tent where there was a huge log on the ground, which quickly became a
bench. After a considerable amount of weeding, cutting, and chopping, I was
ready to eat again. I was tempted to just eat some of the food that I had on
the wagon, but decided that it was strictly for my "escape." I wanted
to make sure, if anything happened, that I had what I needed for the trip out
of the woods. It would make no sense to leave myself with nothing, just for the
convenience of snacking here, when there were supposedly 12 kitchens being set
up around me. I tarped my tent and wagon, reset the bushes at my entrance, and
checked the road for any potential witnesses. When I saw I was clear, I set
off. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Walking
down the road I saw Crazy Joe and Cosmic Wonder by an RV with a campfire dug
out next to the road. I greeted them politely as I passed, and went on to
Bangerang. When I reached the kitchen, though, I found no fire going and no
people. Everyone was passed out. I didn't think it was that early, judging by
the sun it might be 9 or 10 o'clock. I decided to go exploring for a while
instead. The trail was long, and ran parallel to the road. This meant I was
going in the same direction as I had for the river, so I was moving towards
where my camp was, only I was farther into the forest whereas my camp was
closer to the road. I'd basically walked in a "U" shape. There were
tents and tarps set up all along the woods. Some camps had signs at their
entrances. I passed "F You Camp," and "Good Morning
Vietnam." So this was where the screams were coming from earlier in the
day. That meant I was close to my own camp. Exploring one of the trails, I
found some 30 foot logs set up in a square shape around a fire pit. This looked
like quite an undertaking since the logs were two or three feet wide at their
narrowest. I saw some decorative structures made from branches and rainbow
colored strings, and even a raised platform built from logs and branches with a
hammock on top that resembled a tree house. This was more like what I had hoped
for this gathering. I was learning quickly that the gathering happened in the
woods, so whatever was going on in the road was something completely different.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDCP7ftqNooooNUe6fC6EpbWwZXkcDiIBnJ3kAVT5dJL95_sQS3fSn0HzNx3coHLVpkRLx3loNyJ_uFHxtKPQqkKuSNymiZ3WDmTU64uvpClexiL54Rz53L100sc5uozlJUMqbcu6KwtrP/s1600/IMG_8077.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDCP7ftqNooooNUe6fC6EpbWwZXkcDiIBnJ3kAVT5dJL95_sQS3fSn0HzNx3coHLVpkRLx3loNyJ_uFHxtKPQqkKuSNymiZ3WDmTU64uvpClexiL54Rz53L100sc5uozlJUMqbcu6KwtrP/s1600/IMG_8077.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
Once the camps started
becoming rarer and rarer, to the point where it seemed no one was camped
around, I turned back and headed towards Bangerang again only to find them in
the same state as I'd left them. Just across the path from this kitchen,
though, there was another. They had a big tarp like Bangerang's that read
"LAUNCH PAD, WELCOME HOME."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL_nrpHVbXKcGtbJnLGGANM6R8Zr1oFjAZ5koboy0OJJ5d0z-Q04y43cIK1rU7hbX2REF-NXjKBt7nFJhLznTaUxoA6tY4-PTuYX1_lz31O5a700erdbIEDWiXO8GWwsORDfG9tNmvvoip/s1600/IMG_8072.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL_nrpHVbXKcGtbJnLGGANM6R8Zr1oFjAZ5koboy0OJJ5d0z-Q04y43cIK1rU7hbX2REF-NXjKBt7nFJhLznTaUxoA6tY4-PTuYX1_lz31O5a700erdbIEDWiXO8GWwsORDfG9tNmvvoip/s1600/IMG_8072.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This
kitchen was awake and bustling. They seemed to be cooking some breakfast. I
offered to help however I could, but they said they didn't need any, breakfast
was almost done. I sat down nearby and waited, listening and watching. The
kitchen seemed to be run by a lady called Mama Rocket, and her husband (I
think) named Biscuit. Listening to the conversations around the kitchen, I was
hearing some unfamiliar terms or words used in different context, like
"aggro dog," "satellite," "kickdown,"
"homebum." I decided it might be best to keep a list of these terms
for my own reference. I did the best I could to extrapolate their accurate
meanings out of their contextual use, so some may be wrong.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
BLISS - A container for food to be eaten. A can, bowl, leaf,
piece of cardboard, or even one's own hands.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
BLISS WARE - A tool used to eat food with. A fork, spoon,
chop sticks made out of twigs, or even one's own fingers.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
AGGRO DOG - An aggressive dog, usually unwelcome around
regular dogs.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
SATELLITE - To send something to someone else.
"Satellite some food down to the people over there."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
KICKDOWN - Something gifted to someone else (Think
"hand-me-down"). (Not to be confused with "KICK IT DOWN")</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
KICK IT DOWN - Command for a dog to sit or lay down.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
HOMEBUM - A homeless person who stays in one place. A local
vagrant.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
DOG OUT - Command for a dog to leave the immediate area. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
NICK AT NIGHT - An organized group of people with some sort
of hierarchy who supply people with rolled tobacco cigarettes, run on
donations. Highly sought after by most people.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
SCHWILLY - Aggravatingly drunk. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
NOTMYDOG - Name given to a dog that is not yours, usually
accompanied by DOG OUT.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
OODOG - Command instructing a dog that they are doing
something they shouldn't be. The "oo" is sometimes growled and/or
extended to denote severity of misbehavior. Usually accompanied by DOG OUT.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dogs and
toddlers seemed to roam free, and it was apparent that it was everyone's
responsibility to watch them. If a dog or child was doing something they
shouldn't be, it was up to whoever was around to correct the behavior. "DOG
OUT!!" was heard regularly in the kitchen, as well as "OOOODOG!"
and "NOTMYDOG!" As I was admiring the unspoken communal agreement of
responsibility, a bicycle rider rode up to the kitchen yelling,
"MAILCALL!" He pulled a folder from the basket at the front of his
bike, and pulled out a scrap piece of paper with some writing on it. He read
off some message about another kitchen needing some supplies. Mama Rocket told
him to respond with her own message, which he wrote down on a scrap piece of
cardboard and put it into the folder. He then asked if anyone had seen someone
by a name I can't remember, because they'd found something of hers. When his
business was done, he hopped back on his bike, offered to take out a bag of
trash for the kitchen, and rode off. So there is a mail system in the woods?
Very impressive.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After a
couple of pieces of fried donut, I headed back to camp, and did some more
clearing. I cleared a path behind the big log, a little ways out, for my own
private bathroom. Sounds fancy, right? I thought so. I dug myself a little
trench back behind some thick bushes, and then sat down to draw for a while. I decided to work on the cover of my new sketchbook, and worked on it for a while. I've developed a preference for sketchbooks that have a blank cover so I can design it myself, because who wants a sketch book with the photograph of a pencil on the cover? I mean really. After some time, I realized that all I had to eat were those couple of donuts,
so I set off to find a different kitchen. I walked down to the corner and
turned in the opposite direction of Bangerang and Launch Pad. I passed a camp called
"Wolf Pack 13," and came across "Old Man Camp." I heard
some music and drumming coming from somewhere in the woods, and followed it. It
was dark by now, so I couldn't see anyone's face. I came to a campfire next to
what looked like a kitchen, but was informed it was not one. These folks had
definitely set themselves up like they were, though. They had the same
Lincoln-log style stove, branch built counter tops, and huge tarps set up
overhead. I'd heard there was a Bear Necessities Kitchen somewhere, but when I
asked where it was, no one seemed to know. That's when a tall guy came over and
said there was another kitchen farther down the path that was currently cooking
some beef stroganoff. Excellent. He offered to guide a couple of us who were
hungry over to the kitchen, so I followed. His name was Phoebe, and had a very
effeminate voice. I started to wonder in the dark if it actually was a guy or
not. Not that it mattered, I'd just have to avoid saying "he" or
"she." </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After
about a half mile of walking in the dark, we came up to the kitchen. I kept
hearing different versions of their name, "Shut Up and Eat,"
"Grow it and Eat it," "Shut Up and Grow it." It seemed no
one could decide exactly what it was. They had just finished cooking when we
arrived, and were setting the giant pot of food on the counter top. One of the
guys getting ready to serve it said, "'free food' on '3.' Ready? 1, 2,
3," and then everyone around yelled at the tops of their voices,
"FREE FOOD IN THE WOODS!!!" Then the serving began. I sat down near
the kitchen to eat, and it was delicious. I waited for the line to die down,
then went up for seconds. I quickly discovered this was frowned upon. They
seemed to wait a long time before serving anyone seconds, just to make sure
they feed as many people as they could. I was learning. After my meal, I
thanked the kitchen and headed back over to Launch Pad, but they seemed to be
closed for the night. I heard commotion over at Bangerang, so I went there
instead. They were trying to set up a counter top, so I stepped in to help. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
BLISS RAIL - A makeshift counter top constructed out of logs
and branches to serve food on.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As we
were building their bliss rail, someone came around to satellite some salad and
fried onion rings. As he was serving people, he saw me and asked if I was the
one pulling the wagon. I was really surprised he recognized me in the dark,
even though I had no idea who he was. He told me people had been talking about
me, and then a couple of people from the kitchen chimed in saying what a good
idea it was to travel with a wagon. I discussed a few pros and cons with them,
but when I went to eat my salad, I found my fork was missing. I must have left
it at Shut Up and Eat, so now I was just left with my spoon. Eating salad with
a spoon was a challenge, but doable. I stuck around for a while, chatting with
some people, until they started cooking hotdogs, and arguing about how to cook
them. Three people seemed to have their own methods of cooking hotdogs, and the
argument became a little heated. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On my way
back to my camp I found the campfire at the corner of the road was having a
drum circle. I sat around and listened for a while as a few drums laid down an
enjoyable beat, which were eventually joined by a didgeridoo and a triangle. It
was getting cold out, and I could see by the campfire light that, since I'd
been wearing my flip flops the whole time, that I now had my dirt shoes on.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
DIRT SHOES - When your feet get so dirty from walking around
barefoot that you look like you're wearing shoes made of dirt.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
POCKET TRADE - A trade that consists of objects inside the
pockets of the two making the trade.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
RANDOM POCKET TRADE - A trade whereby the two making the
trade don't know what they are about to receive for their own object.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
SNUFF - A form of ground up tobacco (I think), which is
snorted.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
SNUFF PUSHUPS - A rite of passage to become a Nick at
Nighter. The candidate recites the alphabet, doing a pushup for each letter,
and snorting snuff for every pushup. As I understand it, few make it through
the whole alphabet, and respect is given to those who do. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
DAY 4<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">
"GOOD
MORNIN' VIETNAAAAAM!!!"</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"IT'S
VIET-FUCKIN'-NAM!"</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Another
morning waking up to my neighbors' call. I was curious if I'd been waking up
around the same time or not, so I decided to make a sun dial. I stuck a stick
into the fallen log, and put a notch at the tip of the shadow. I didn't know
what time it was exactly, but I at least got a frame of reference as to when I
was going to be waking up every day in relation to today. It felt later than
usual, maybe around 9 or 10 in the morning. After some time of clearing a few
more roots and bushes in my camp, I walked over to Launch Pad for some
breakfast. On the way I passed by Priest's camp, where he and a couple of
others were sitting around a small campfire. "Free tea in the woods?"
Priest offered. I sat with them a while, and chatted. I came to find out that
Priest and his companions did not like being around civilized society. They did
not like rules, or law enforcement. They were also against technology. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
BABYLON - The (somewhat derogatory) term for towns and
cities outside of the woods, "civilization."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
BABYLONIANS - The (somewhat derogatory) term for people who
live in houses or apartments, working full time jobs. Non-hippies.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
L. E. O.'S - Law Enforcement Officers</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
SIX UP - A warning shouted out and echoed by those who hear
it, to warn others of incoming L. E. O.'s.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
DRAINBOW - A participant at the gathering who somehow ruins
it for others. A selfish, rude, or unruly person.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
WINGNUT - A crazy person, usually under the influence of one
or several sorts of drugs.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Though I
found some of the same qualities in Priest that made me dislike him back in
Babylon, he was admittedly different here. I guess because he disliked
Babylonians so much, it gave him an air of arrogance out there, but out here,
he was different. He was nicer and selfless, while still cocky and a little
arrogant. I guess people's demeanor changes depending on what element you find
them in. While we sat around chatting, Priest invited a couple that was walking
by on the road, "free tea in the woods?" They joined us somewhat
hesitantly. They sat down next to me and asked, "is it JUST tea?" I
looked to Priest, who nodded. Damn, I probably should have asked the same thing.
Who knows what they put in food or drink out here. Her name was Jennifer, and
this was her and her husband's first time at a gathering, which they brought
their teenage son to. He was somewhere with someone doing something. She
admitted this wasn't exactly their scene, but they'd been willing to try it.
Admirable. After some more conversation I excused myself and went on to Launch
Pad.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I
got to the kitchen, they were just about finished cooking some scrambled eggs
and potatoes. When it was finished, we lined up. I was somewhere towards the
front of the line, but when it was my turn to get served, Mama Rocket looked at
me and shouted, "IS THERE ANY MORE MAMAS AND BABIES WHO AIN'T EATEN YET?
WE FEED MAMAS AND BABIES FIRST HERE, THAT'S JUST HOW WE DO IT IN MY
KITCHEN!" Shit, now I feel like an asshole. I looked around and saw a
couple of ladies farther back in line. They were hesitant to come up, to which
Mama Rocket said, "come'n up, mamas. These guys ain't gonna eat 'til you
have. They'll just be standin' here waitin' on ya." I stepped aside
allowing them to come up, after which the rest of us got served. Mental note
for the future: Stay away from the front of the line. I sat down to eat near
the kitchen, where I met an older guy named Boon. This was his 8th gathering.
He explained it takes some time for people to get used to you, that, over time,
they get to know who you are. He went on to say that this was going to be a big
gathering, that a lot of "alumni" were returning this year.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I got
ready to leave, another guy with long hair and a bushy mustache walked up to me
while pointing at the ground and said, "hey man, you dropped
something." I looked down thinking I was about to lose my spoon this time
or something, and he said, "it's your smile." I smiled, almost
laughing, "oh no, wait, there it is." He had a name tag on his shirt
that read "Smiley" with a happy face next to it. That's how he
introduced himself, as Smiley. I introduced myself as I had been at the
gathering, as DragonWagon. "How'd you get a name like that?" I
explained it was a play on words, since I'm "draggin' a wagon" on my
travels, plus I really liked dragons. He was curious about my wagon, asked me
to describe it, and was hopeful to see it. "You'll have to show me that
wagon one day," he said as I was leaving. I assured him I would, but I
didn't want to show anyone where I was camped, so if I did show it to him, it'd
have to be under different circumstances. I was still weary of trusting others
with my camp's whereabouts. I wondered if I had trust issues, or if it was
justified.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was
walking back to my camp, and there was a kid walking ahead of me. He had bushy
blonde hair, and was wearing nothing but his shorts. He was dirty and walking
barefoot. When he realized I was behind him, he stopped to say hello, and
started walking with me. His name was Cody, and had a very soothing voice, calm
and soft spoken. He told me he had just broken a vow of silence the previous
night after three weeks of not speaking a word. It was his way of stopping to
listen to his surroundings. Apparently they'd partied hard the previous night,
and he had decided to be silent no longer. I was one of the few people he'd
spoken to since. We talked for a little while, and then he asked me where I was
camped. My defenses went up immediately. I answered vaguely that I was moving
around camps a lot. He then asked where I was headed. I lied and told him I was
headed to the river up the road. We walked right past the entrance to my secret
lair. I didn't trust him. I didn't trust anyone. I was wondering if I really
was becoming paranoid out here. Maybe I should be more public with my camp.
Maybe I should trust others. Why did I feel the need to lie like that? Why did
I feel the need to hide my ever so precious stuff? We walked past a rainbow
flag that marked the entrance to the trail for Good Morning Vietnam. They
really were close by. We were going pretty far down the road, and I was
wondering if he was just going to walk with me all the way to the river. I
didn't actually want to go to the damned river, and we were just getting
farther and farther away from my camp. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We
approached the last set of cars on the road for a long stretch ahead. Cody said
this was where he was camped, and that he was with Bear Necessities Kitchen. I
was surprised to learn that this was where they were setting up, since I'd
heard they were down the other direction where Shut up and Grow it was. I told
him I was hoping to help them set up, and he was glad to hear it, saying that
they could always use help. We walked up to one of the cars, where a girl was
getting stuff out of the back seat. "Hey, Cody, is it true? You
talkin' now?" He nodded and said, "hello, Ryan." She seemed
thrilled to hear his voice for the first time. I guess he was telling the truth
about his vow of silence. I'm not sure why I was so skeptical about it. He
introduced us, and then led me into the woods, away from the road, towards Bear
Necessities. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We came
out of the trail into a clearing after the woods, where there were about 6 or 7
people gathered around an older man. There was no kitchen or tents set up
anywhere, it seemed they had just arrived. The elder was explaining his vision
for the kitchen. He wanted to clear out a large circle to build a Roman
coliseum style seating area. He said this was going to be the biggest build
they'd ever undertaken. There'd be tarps set up in the round with benches under
them, a massive fire pit in the center, and up front by the kitchen there'd be
two stages under tarps where musicians could play. Everyone around him got
really excited, and were ready to work. We started by clearing tall grass,
weeds, bushes, and palm fronds. We made one piles of dry stuff to burn and
another of soft stuff to make the ground more barefoot-friendly. A couple of
people were digging out a fire pit for the kitchen and setting up a grill above
it. After a short break, we hauled loads of pots and pans and various cooking
utensils from the car. It was like ant work, hauling stuff in while others went
out to pick more stuff up. We cleared a larger area, and finally stopped for
some dinner. I came to find out that the elder was named Baloo. Now it made
sense, Baloo was in charge of the Bear Necessities Kitchen. I met a guy named
Batman, who played the trumpet, a girl named Aunt Jemima, who made us peanut
butter sandwiches, and a girl named Panda, who seemed to be striving to be
Baloo's right hand girl. After we ate, they started setting up their tents. It
was getting a little chilly out, so I took the opportunity to go back to my
tent to dress a little warmer. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
BLISS FIRE - A campfire, usually next to or near a kitchen,
where anyone is welcome to relax, eat, and/or play music.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
BLISS OUT - To take a break.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
HEAD CHANGE - The smoking of pot. "Can we get a head change
for the kitchen?"</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
GROW ROOTS - To stay still.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On my
walk back to camp I found there were more people arriving. The place was
starting to get a little crowded, and I began to wonder how long my secluded
location would remain undiscovered. After putting on a couple more layers to stay
warm, I headed back to Bear Necessities. When I got there I found they'd
started a fire, and there were people playing drums and guitars around it. A
few people even joined in with some singing. This was more like what I was
looking for. This was the scene I was hoping I'd find. As I sat there, I saw
Crazy Joe talking with Baloo. He was telling him that his area was getting
overrun, and he was looking to move somewhere up the road, closer to this
kitchen. I realized that he'd changed his name from Crazy Joe to Happy. So, his
name was Happy now. I stayed by the fire for a good while, listening to drums
and guitars and occasional singing. When I got back to camp, cars were
constantly rolling by on the road, making it a loud night.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
DAY 5<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Yet
another morning started to the sounds of "GOOD MORNIN' VIETNAAAAM!!"
and "IT'S VIET-FUCKIN'-NAM!" It was amusing to hear this ritual take
place every morning. As I sat on the big log, I heard quite a few people
walking the road just outside my camp. I found it intriguing how many things I
learned from just listening to people's conversations as they went past. I
learned that it was Super Bowl Sunday. I also heard that there was a hydration
station down one of the trails I hadn't been to yet. Also, something called
"main circle" was supposedly starting within the next few days. My
water supply was getting low, so I decided I may want to find this hydration
station. I keep three water containers in my wagon to refill my camel pack, and
I was down to the last container. I decided that, like the food supply I was
keeping, I needed at least one full container of water for my walk out of the
woods. I grabbed the two empty ones, and set off. This time, though, I was
spotted while leaving my camp. Someone was randomly walking by whom I hadn't
heard come up, and saw me setting the bushes up to cover the entrance. I felt
silly, trying to play it off like I wasn't doing anything. The time to move
camps was approaching quickly. I really liked my set up here, but not if it was
going to be this crowded. I passed by Joe, or Happy now, who was getting ready
to move over closer to Bear Necessities. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was
about 2 miles to get to where the hydration station was, after asking several
people on the way where it was. It was about halfway down the road towards
Front Gate, down a trail that ran parallel to the same trail Bangerang and
Launch Pad were on. This trail was headed up by an area called "Welcome
Home" which hadn't been set up yet when Clue and I first came through. So
you would normally come through Front Gate, then hit Welcome Home. That seemed
more like the experience I would've hoped for. When I got to the hydration
station, however, I was disappointed. It was just an empty Gatorade cooler and
a few scattered half-empty gallon jugs of water. There were a couple of people
filling up their plastic bottles, so I didn't bother with my own. I walked back
to camp with the two water containers still empty. I found even more cars and
RV's on the road, and even more people walking around, and they were
encroaching on my camp. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After
dropping off my containers, I went around to the kitchens for something to eat.
I hit Bangerang, Launch Pad, and Grow it and Eat it, but none of them were
serving when I was there. I headed back up to Bear Necessities, making that
walk somewhere around 6 miles with no food. In that time I'd randomly gotten
four different compliments on my beard from four different people in four
different places. That was odd, no one had mentioned it at all the entire time
I'd been there, and now suddenly four people said something? Strange. I
wondered if there was something different about it. Maybe I had a cowlick or
something on it... I took a picture to check, but it didn't seem like anything
was different with it. Strange.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw_xvFsBNmwrs09FcjmhTiZpT_PrMhFMNgr3S2bODJQlcTYcQ2VuiLaW7km2BVN7Qu3-gl6X9_lJK_R9nR8GMqTn_6Hr78X7D05rp06XSDKKEpb820P1wxK-I9333_HgCW3EaJMhwepeGh/s1600/IMG_8048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw_xvFsBNmwrs09FcjmhTiZpT_PrMhFMNgr3S2bODJQlcTYcQ2VuiLaW7km2BVN7Qu3-gl6X9_lJK_R9nR8GMqTn_6Hr78X7D05rp06XSDKKEpb820P1wxK-I9333_HgCW3EaJMhwepeGh/s1600/IMG_8048.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On my way
up to Bear Necessities, I caught up with Aunt Jemima on the road. She was
walking with a guy who claimed to be Nugget Night. Apparently Nugget Night
worked the same as Nick at Night, only with pot instead of tobacco, but he was
the only one I'd heard of, whereas Nick at Night were all over the place. On
our way up to the kitchen they were having a rainbow joke battle. "How
many hippies does it take to change a light bulb? What's a light bulb?"
"What's the difference between a rainbow girl and a washing machine? A washing
machine doesn't follow you around after you dump your load in it."
"What's the difference between a rainbow girl and a joint? A joint won't
make it around the whole circle." Colorful stuff.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At the
kitchen we chopped firewood and logs for building. We set up tarps, and built
their stove in the same Lincoln-log style as the others. The grill they had was
8 feet long, so the stove was rectangular shaped, unlike all the other square
shaped ones. They spent the night celebrating by deep frying Oreo cookies and a
random assortment of confections they could get their hands on. As a large
enough batch was made, someone would satellite a portion to other kitchens.
Stunt Double seemed to be Baloo's second in charge, the guy who got stuff done.
He was quiet and reserved, but worked hard, nonstop. Overboard had come round
to visit the kitchen, with a guy named Elf by his side. They seemed to be
checking in, communicating information between the kitchens about this main
circle event I'd heard of earlier. I met Frank, Lorax, Staggah, Bo, Ro, and
Zak. There were people from all over, each with their own stories of the
rainbow. Many of them were traveling with Baloo and his kitchen, who had come
down from Maine. Apparently Maine has its own regional rainbow gathering, which
they call "Mainebow." I saw Happy at one point talking with Baloo. He
had apparently picked out a spot on the road for his RV and had moved away from
the corner of the road. He was telling Baloo the reason was because of aggro
people and their aggro dogs. He didn't feel secure that close to the corner. I
decided I would do the same. I spoke to Happy about where he moved, and asked
if he would mind me moving in as a neighbor, to which he was delighted. So the
next day I would break down camp, and come over to Bear Necessities.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
DAY 6<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">
I woke up
early, and broke up my camp, packed it all into the wagon, and was ready to
move. I looked around for a minute. It was a shame to leave this spot. I'd put
in quite a bit of work to clear it out, and I really liked my bench log. I had
a pile of wood at one corner I'd planned on burning at some point, but never
got around to. On my way out I threw the bushes aside which used to cover the
entrance, leaving the path exposed to anyone curious enough to explore it. This
was going to make a very nice spot for anyone who found it. Area already
cleared, log bench to sit on, fire pit already dug out, and even a pile of
firewood ready for use. I hoped whoever found it would enjoy it. As I was
heading out, I passed by the rainbow flag to Vietnam's camp, and heard them
shouting "GOOD MORNIN' VIETNAAAAM!!" and "IT'S
VIET-FUCKIN'-NAM!" </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My plan
was to cut a trail behind Happy's RV, and set up a camp hidden behind it. I may
be starting to trust a person or two, but I wasn't diving into it with
everyone. By the time I reached it, though, Happy's RV was gone. I walked into
the woods and up to the kitchen, and found out Happy was on a town run, to
refill water for the kitchen. I parked the wagon by the kitchen, and got to
work. They needed longer logs than they'd gotten, and Bo had already scouted a
spot a little ways away where there were some. I volunteered to help them, so a
few of us went out to the road and got into Baloo's jeep. They seemed to be in
a hurry to go, until we got into the car. Once in the vehicle, they took the
time to pack a bowl, smoke the bowl, roll tobacco, smoke the tobacco, before
they were finally ready to go. It might have been about a 20 minute process
before heading out. When we took off, we drove about a hundred feet up the
road, and we were there. Hmmm... That felt silly...</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We went
into the woods on the opposite side of the road and got to work. We cut logs
from 8 to 16 feet, loaded them up on the jeep, drove them to the kitchen trail,
then walked them into the kitchen. We did this a few times. Every time we'd
show up with a new batch of logs, someone would yell, "HO for the wood
run!" and then everyone would respond in unison, "HOOOO!!!" This
was an interesting celebration of labor, because it didn't seem to celebrate
the person doing the work, but the work itself. This was one of those subtle
differences I might not usually have noticed, but it seemed constant. It seemed
to me that celebrating the work done, as opposed to the person doing it, promoted
the motivation for anyone else to do it as well. "HO for the
firewood!" "HO for the stove getting built!" "HO for the
wood chopping!" The day was quite productive. We built a second stove and
put up two bliss rails. More loads were brought in from the road, and some sort
of organization of the kitchen was taking shape. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
FIRE TROLL - Person in charge of keeping the fire lit and
hot, usually by using a TROLL POLL</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
TROLL POLL - A pipe or tube used to blow into the fire to
keep it hot.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
MARCO - "I'm giving this away."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
POLO - "I'll take it."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
SKANK - Head wrap or bandanna.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
SPLIFF - A rolled cigarette with a mix of tobacco and pot.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It'd
gotten dark before I realized it, so I decided to go for a walk to the other
kitchens for a while. I was using my flashlight to get through the trails, and
kept passing people going in the opposite direction. Some people also had
flashlights, while others were just walking through in the dark. At one point,
a little girl walked by me. She may have been at most 10 years old, completely
confident of where she was going and absolutely unafraid. Most little girls
I've met who were her age would have been terrified to be walking alone in the
dark in the middle of the woods. I guess there's something to be said for these
rainbow kids. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After a
bite to eat at Bangerang, I stopped over at the corner of the road to listen to
the small drum circle again. While I was there, someone rolled up in their car
and dropped off a stack of Little Cesar's pizzas. They said it was dumpster
pizza, still fresh. They passed the boxes around the circle and everyone took a
slice. Sharing seemed to be a big thing out here. I headed back up to Bear
Necessities, set up my tent near the kitchen where the rest of the kitchen
staff had set up theirs. I was a little nervous about being out in the open,
but I comforted myself with the safety in numbers theory.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
DAY 7</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I woke up
in the morning to find Happy cooking breakfast in the kitchen. Apparently he'd
worked his way into the inner staff. I broke down my tent and packed up the
wagon so it was ready to go. I then realized that this was the first morning in
a while I hadn't heard the shouts from Good Morning Vietnam, and was a little
disappointed. I sat down for breakfast and started talking to one of the guys
I'd been working with. His name was Ian, and he'd been traveling for some time.
He told me he had met up with his girlfriend, who then broke up with him, and
dropped him off in the middle of nowhere in Florida. He walked into the woods,
and was just getting by, when suddenly the gathering started setting up around
him. So he hadn't come to the gathering, the gathering had come to him. I
shared my story of the three Ron's being the reason I'd come. We started
discussing what all had been set up around the gathering, and that he hadn't
yet taken the opportunity to explore, so I offered to show him around what I'd
found. Having been there for about a week, I'd had a chance to watch certain
things go up. I came to find out Ian was carving bows for trade, and was in
search of arrows. I took him to where the trade circle had been, and showed him
around the kitchens I'd found. We heard from several people that main circle
would start at sundown, and that everyone should be there. After a while, we
split ways, and I went back to set up my new camping spot.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Happy had
set himself up a small area in the woods near the kitchen with a hammock and
some tarps, and planned on using the RV for town runs for the kitchen, so it
was unfeasible to hide a camp behind it. I decided to set up in the woods, away
from the road. I went past the kitchen on the trail, to an area where I didn't
think people would go, and cut my own trail into the bushes again. I cleared
just enough for my tent and wagon, and lay down some palm fronds under my tent.
On my way out, I set up some bushes to cover the entrance again. I guess some
habits die hard. I'd started seeing signs around the kitchens instructing
people how to shit in the woods.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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The sun
was starting to set, and it was almost time for this main circle event everyone
had been talking about. As luck would have it, they didn't have a spot cleared
out for it, so they chose to do it at the Bear Necessities Kitchen since we'd
cleared out such a large area. We collected some firewood for the bliss fire,
as more and more people trickled in. While the fire was getting started, Overboard
shouted, "'circle' on 3! 1, 2, 3!" and then everyone around the fire
shouted, "CIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRCLLLLLLLLLLLLE!!!!!" More firewood was
collected, and more people trickled in. We shouted "circle" a few
more times every ten minutes or so. Finally someone said to circle up. Everyone
who was sitting around the fire stood up, backed up, and held hands.
"Thumbs to the left!" Everyone held hands, aiming thumbs to the left,
so there was no confusion about who held their hands how. Once everyone was
pretty much in the circle, with only a few stragglers coming in here and there,
people began their announcements. It seemed like Overboard was somehow in
charge of what was happening since he was the one giving the instructions on
what to do. Then a flurry of announcements came from random people in the
circle:</div>
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"Bury your shit!
Bury your neighbor's shit! Bury your dog shit! Bury your neighbor's dog shit!
If you see shit, BURY IT!" </div>
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"Bury your neighbor's dog if they don't bury their
shit!"</div>
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"Not burying your shit gets everyone sick! It goes from
your shit, to the flies, to your food, then to you! Bury your shit!"</div>
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"If you don't know how to shit in the woods, ask
someone, ask your kitchens. Everybody shits, it's only weird if you don't do it
right!"</div>
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"Remember, everybody wants everyone's everything! Have
you given your all today?"</div>
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"Bear Necessities Kitchen is doing all you can eat pancakes
from 10-2!"</div>
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"Help your kitchens!"</div>
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"Kitchens need firewood, ALWAYS!"</div>
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"WASH YOUR FUCKIN' HANDS YOU DIRTY FUCKIN'
HIPPIES!"</div>
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<br /></div>
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With
that, laughter broke out, and people started ohming. It took no time at all for
the chatter and laughter to subside, and suddenly the entire circle was humming
an ohm in unison. It was incredible to experience a group of 50-100 people, all
holding hands, ohming. People from all walks, from all over, of all ages,
races, genders, all together in one place, making one sound. I was humbled as I
joined in. It was a moving experience. We hummed for maybe a minute, until the
ohm just sort of faded away without instruction, until there was just silence.
Suddenly, almost as if on cue, everyone threw their hands up and gave out a
long and cheerful "WHOOOOOO!!!" in celebration, breaking the hand
holds. With that, a loud chatter broke out, people sat where they were in the
circle, and took out their respective blisses, ready to eat.</div>
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"Stay where you're at, the kitchens are going to come
around to feed you!"</div>
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"Mamas and babies to center so you can get fed
first!"</div>
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"Magic hat is coming around the circle! Your donations
feed your family!"<br />
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I sat down where I was, and
the four kitchens came around with huge pots of food after feeding the women
and children in the center. They moved around the circle, serving one person at
a time. One kitchen served a sort of rice jambalaya, another had rice and stew,
another served salad, and the fourth had stir fried lo mein. It was pretty dark
out, and we had spread quite a distance from the bliss fire, so it was hard to
see what I was eating, and everything was mixed together. By the end of it,
everyone was fed at the same time, in the same place, and everyone seemed happy
and satisfied. Once people had enough to eat, they'd break out of the circle
and move towards the bliss fire. A couple of the kitchens came around a second
time to empty their pots. One drum started playing by the fire, shortly joined
by one, then two. Eventually there was a drum circle around the fire. I sat
down near a couple of the drummers, and people started dancing with fire poi,
and fire hoola hoops. There was a xylophone somewhere playing choice notes in
beat with the drums, and a couple of guitars broke out in songs here and there.
I looked up to see the moon was full, as fire dancers moved to sounds of drums,
people laughed and talked, others vocalized in beat with the drums, and others
just basked in the beauty of it all. What a magnificent event.</div>
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GROUND SCORE - Something found on the ground. "No
ground scores at main circle."</div>
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SHANTESINA - Peaceful warriors, keepers of the peace. A word
one could shout in case of emergency to call for help from anyone who heard it.</div>
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NIGHTBALL - The moon.</div>
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DragonWagonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10258103841458167822noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-221545659137877472.post-89077510200686491782015-01-27T18:21:00.003-08:002015-01-27T18:21:49.125-08:00Beginning 2015<div class="MsoNormal">
Beginning 2015</div>
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After the
10 days spent in the woods, I was invited to stay at an old artist friend's
home. This artist chose to remain anonymous, so I'll refer to them as Anonymous
Artist, or Anon for short. We had emailed back and forth a couple of times, and
had settled on a day to meet up, so I packed up the <br />
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</div>
DragonWagon, and headed to
Anon's place. They had 5 acres of land, considerably wooded, where I could
camp. They had a bathroom with a shower that was accessible to me, and an art
studio I was able to use to work on a couple of commissions I had lined up. One
was a little too large to work on in the woods, so I graciously accepted the
offer to use the studio, while the other I had already started working on while
I was out there.</div>
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When I
got to the house, Anon was noticeably ill, coughing and looking exceptionally
tired. Anon explained that a family member had gotten them sick, and it was the
worst illness they'd had in over a decade, so it was hitting hard. Anon had an
art show coming up in a couple of days, out of town, which required loading and
set up. They were very worried about how they'd be able to manage it, feeling
the way they were. I offered to help however I could. Anon was an oil painter,
using canvases anywhere from 2'x2' to 4'x6', and with 11 works, this was no
small load. On top of that, they had to load up the tent and hardware to
display the works, since the show was outdoors. Anon had one young family
member coming to help, so the van would be full, with no room for another. I
was asked to stay in the studio for the weekend, to watch the place and feed
the dogs. I assured them that whatever was needed of me, I was willing to do.</div>
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The time
came to load the van the next day, and it was no small feat. There were the
pipes to the tent, the canopy, the display walls, 7 of the 11 works that were
over 3'x4', cardboard between the works for protection, blankets for extra
protection, display table, folding chairs, cooler, luggage, and people. Anon
sat in a chair too weak to help, but to stubborn not to try, doing their best
to direct the process. From experience, things had to fit a certain way, or it
would not fit at all. After much effort, the bulk of the load was tightly
wedged in the van. Anon then realized that there were a couple of things needed
to be purchased, and since the family member was too young to drive and Anon
too tired and sick, I offered to go for them. I purchased the few things that
they were lacking, and returned promptly. Upon my return, Anon was just getting
off the phone with another family member, who had convinced them that there was
no way they'd be able to manage by themselves once they got there. They would
need more help. Anon asked if it would be okay if I came along. I told them
whatever they needed was fine, but I didn't want to be a nuisance once there.
They assured me it would not be a problem, they'd be staying with family who
had more than enough room for everyone. I quickly packed a small bag, locked
and hid the DragonWagon, and loaded the rest of the van. I was to ride in
between the two front seats, sitting on the cooler.</div>
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The art
show went well, and Anon's family received us warmly. It was a good weekend of
working and learning. We set up the tent the night before the show, got all the
works arranged, and headed back to the house for a few hours of sleep before
coming back out in the morning. I got to walk around and view other artists'
works, talked to a few, and learned a few things. There were painters, digital
artists, jewelers, chalk artists, 3D assemblage artists, photographers,
charcoal artists, and more. One artist in particular caught my interest. He did
fine line illustrations, and much of his work was based on dragons (can't
imagine why that peaked my interest). We talked for a good while, as I asked
questions and pleaded for advice. He told me of his early beginnings, the peak
of his career, and the hard hit from the recession with steady decline since.
He explained how the field is not what it used to be, but if one adapts, it is
possible to make it. It was quite an enlightening conversation. </div>
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Once the
art show was finished, and we were back to Anon's house, I insisted they get
some rest while I unloaded the vehicle. I was afraid that if Anon were anywhere
near the scene, they would be obliged to help, and their health was a concern
at this point, even several days later. Anon was very thankful, and very tired,
so they rested while I put everything back where it belonged. I was then
getting ready to set up in the woods of their backyard, when they insisted I stay
in the studio, where there was a couch I could sleep on. I insisted that it
would not be a problem for me to stay outside, but they were much more
insistent that I stay in. I thanked them kindly, and got to work on my
commissions.</div>
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The first
of my commissions I had already started to sketch out while I was staying in
the woods for those 10 days, so I was well into it. I was comfortable with it,
and it was very much in my own style. I was asked to draw a dog from a photo,
the only challenge being that the dog was jet black. That had me a little
worried, not knowing how well it would turn out, but as I picked up momentum
with it, it proved to be a good result. I was quite proud of the outcome. The
second commission, however, was of a horse trotting through a field. Horses are
difficult, because they are powerfully large creatures who show the daintiest
of grace. Getting the proportions right and the demeanor of the "light as
air" horse was very challenging. It's easy to make it look too heavy, too
grounded. Anon helped me incredibly by giving me a fresh look at it every so
often. Anon is infamous for honesty and bluntness when it comes to others'
works, which is invaluable to the progression of a good piece. When I work too
closely with photos, I sometimes begin to lose sight of the grand picture, and
draw myself into a corner. Having an experienced artist advise me along the way
was incredibly refreshing. The result was the best I've had yet. I took on a
style far from my own comfort zone, and couldn't be more proud of the outcome.
I owe Anon immense gratitude for the guidance along the way.</div>
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Heading Out to the Gathering</div>
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Once my
commissions were complete, it was time to head out. The location for the
Rainbow Gathering in the woods was finally made public, so I knew where I was
heading. I'd stayed with Anon for about a week and a half, doing what I could
to help out while they recovered. Anon cooked a huge breakfast for my
departure. As I was packing the wagon, getting ready to go, Anon came out with
a camera asking to take some pictures for some art students. Anon said I'd make
great source material. Imagine that, kids painting my likeness? Though
unlikely, I did like the thought of inspiring someone to draw or paint
anything. We left with many thanks to each other, and promised to keep in
touch. It was a priceless visit for me.</div>
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I took a
short walk or 3 or 4 miles to the Burger King just outside the Ocala National
forest. I wanted to check in with the family before disappearing into the woods
again. I had also been in touch with another friend who had managed to find the
magazine article that was written about my adventure. Remember when I was
walking over the bridge and found a lady waiting at the other end with a camera?
She actually published the article, and it turned out really nice. Sadly my
name was misspelled, but otherwise a very good article. My friend was going to
meet me at the BK, and give me a few copies she'd saved for me.</div>
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I
decided, before heading into the Burger King, to find a place to camp for the
night, since I wouldn't be meeting up with my friend, Miranda, until around 4.
I wasn't sure if it would be dark before I'd get a chance to find one, so I
might as well do it first. I found a wooded area near the BK (not hard this
close to the national forest), and headed in. There was a lot of trash in these
woods, and several dirt roads. I walked past at least three shopping carts
strewn about, a couple of campfire spots, and lots of abandoned clothes. It seemed
many people had stayed out in these woods, whether in the past, or recently. I
went farther into the woods until I saw little evidence of trash or
"campsites," and found a concealed corner to park the wagon. I'd have
to hide it, and set up camp at night so as not to make it too obvious to find.
I moved a few loose branches out of the way, and started to back the wagon into
the bushes, when I suddenly heard a distant, "heeeeeeeyyy!" I looked
around, and just up the dirt road, maybe 100 ft away, was a man staring right
at me. Shit. I've been spotted. "Heeeeeeeeeyyyyy," he hollered again,
"you drink beer?" he held up a large can. He was inviting me over. I
mulled it over for a second. He didn't seem to be threatening at all, but could
I trust him? A random guy drinking alone out in the middle of the woods? I
decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, and answered, "sure,
thanks." Maybe I'm too trusting. Maybe I should've just turned around and
left. Maybe...</div>
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He
offered me a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon. I thanked him, and after a brief
examination of the can, I opened it. I didn't unstrap the wagon from my waist.
I didn't sit down. I kept one hand close to my walking stick. I kept my ears
alert for anyone else around. We drank and chatted. His name was Jason, and
he'd been homeless for a while. He did odd jobs here and there to get by, was
divorced, had kids out in Tennessee, and was fighting a cold. I told him about
my own travels, about my art, and that I was heading out for the Rainbow
Gathering. He mentioned he had taught himself to draw at the public library,
but hadn't done it for a while, so I encouraged him to pick it back up and
never stop. He mentioned he'd heard of the gathering but hadn't ever been, so I
suggested he attend and check it out, since that's what I was doing. Once the
conversation was winding down, and I'd finished my beer, I offered him a can of
chicken rice soup I happened to have with me, to hopefully fight off the cold
he had, in thanks for the beer. We shook hands, and I left. He seemed like a
nice guy, but I couldn't leave the wagon out here now. I took it with me, back
out of the woods, to the BK.</div>
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As I was
crossing the road to get to the BK, I saw a guy sitting at the corner, holding
up a sign that said "SMILE." As I got close, he saw my wagon, smiled
and waved. I waved back. "I guess you're here for the same reason I
am," he said. II told him I hadn't initially come here for it, but stuck
around once I'd heard of it. I asked if he was hungry, offered to buy him
something at the BK. "I could eat," he confessed, getting up and
grabbing his pack. He carried a backpack and a blanket covering some sort of
poles. He was barefoot, and wore a bandana holding up his dreadlocks. He
introduced himself as "Priest." I'd heard that the Rainbow people
take on nicknames for these events. I parked the wagon outside the BK, within
eyeshot, and in we went for some lunch. While in line to order, an older
gentleman, with a Navy veteran's cap on came over inquiring if that was my rig
outside. I told him it was, and I could see curiosity light up on his face. He
was about to ask something else when Priest interjected, saying we were heading
out to the national forest. The veteran looked at him and asked if we were
travelling together, and I told him I'd just met Priest outside. "Oh okay,
I guess I just want to talk to him then, looks like he's in it for the long
haul," said the veteran referring to me. I guess this didn't sit well with
Priest, because as the vet looked down at my toed shoes and inquired about
them, Priest immediately stepped back into the conversation before I could
respond. "Oh I walked through a pair of those last year walking from the
Keys," I could tell the vet was not amused by Priest's interjection. I
explained to the veteran that they were very comfortable, and worked well with
the low arches on my feet, and another girl who was in line with another gentleman
got curious about them as well, "they're comfortable??" I turned to
her and told her I'd walked well over 200 miles in them with no problems at
all. Priest then stepped in and stated he'd been walking for over 500 miles...
With this, the conversation, and everyone's curiosity, was stifled. The girl
and the gentleman turned back to the counter, the veteran said a quick
"good luck" and headed back to his table. Priest smiled, apparently
proud of his one-upmanship. That could have been an interesting conversation to
have with a group of random strangers, but it didn't seem Priest liked the
attention being away from him.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Sitting
down to eat with Priest was a little unpleasant for me. He was a boaster. If I
had an opinion, he had a better one. If I'd done something, he'd done it twice,
or bigger, or better. After just a couple of my own statements in the
conversation, I could see where this was headed if I tried to say anything
else, so I took to asking questions about the gathering, see if I could learn anything
interesting from him, instead. He'd been going for 8 years, and knew quite a
bit about them. I didn't learn much from him since any question I asked went
into a story about something completely different, so I left it at that. I was
getting nothing useful from him, and his mannerisms were unpleasant. He was
very cocky, and seemed to "know it all." I finished my lunch quickly,
and we headed outside. </div>
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We met
another guy in the parking lot, clearly going to the same place. He introduced
himself as Polar Bear, and had just come from the site for the gathering. He
said he would've loved to have stayed, but had other pressing issues outside of
the state to take care of. Priest was determined to describe his own pressing
issues, steamrolling the conversation. It was around this time I decided to
part ways with Priest, wishing him luck on his travels, and that we might meet
up at the gathering. I would have liked to talk more with Polar Bear, but not
at the price of being around Priest any longer. </div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
I went
back into the BK and got in touch with Miranda, to see if she was still good to
meet up. She had an appointment to get to, and was getting out of work late, so
she would have to reschedule. We were to meet up later in the evening. I
decided I'd better take the opportunity to find a spot to camp before it got
dark out. I found a different part of the woods, deeper in still, with no trash
and no sign of people. I covered the DragonWagon with the tarp, being sure to
use the brown side so as not to be so visible, then covered it with branches. I
took a few steps away from it, and almost completely lost sight of it. I had to
be sure to get good landmarks to get back to it. On my way out of the woods, I
heard a couple of voices up ahead. Two men were also walking out of the woods
in front of me. Well, this woods were definitely populated. I'd have to be
careful on my way back in. I waited until they were out of sight and earshot,
then headed out. I realized that I'd taken a wrong turn, because when I came
out of the woods I was at a different place than when I went in. I hoped I
would do better at night to find the wagon again.</div>
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I
eventually met up with Miranda, and we managed to catch up. We hadn't spoken
since high school, but had kept up loosely on Facebook. I met her boyfriend,
who was genuinely curious of my adventure, and her daughter, who immediately
headed for the play pen. She'd brought me three copies of the magazine, and I
thanked her. When they left, I sat down to read what the article.</div>
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As I
reached the original entrance to the woods, I saw a few people in the parking
lot. Some restaurant workers were taking a break out back, some people were
sitting in their cars while parked, and some people were coming in and out of
the restaurant. I didn't want to be seen walking into the woods, so I decided I
would take the alternate route I'd mistakenly taken on my way out. It was well
enough out of the way that no one would see me in the dark. I reached it, and
stopped just as I went in to the tree-line. I couldn't see a thing, it was too
dark and the trees too thick. I took a few steps off the trail I was in, into
the bushes, cracking some branches under my feet. I sat down, closed my eyes,
and listened. I allowed my eyes to get used to the dark, and gave my ears a
chance to acclimate to the sounds. I waited for about five minutes, sitting
with my eyes closed, before I got up and started walking. The moonlight was
piercing through the canopy of the trees, shedding enough light to see, and the
woods were dead quiet on ground, only making slight rustling noises up in the
branches. I took slow deliberate steps, listening for voices or footsteps. I
took my time getting back to the DragonWagon, and when I reached the last
landmark, I stopped, waited, and looked around, listening. When I was satisfied
no one had followed, I walked over to where the wagon was, only I didn't see
it. I looked back at my landmark to be sure I went in the right direction,
which I had. I looked around, and couldn't see it. My heart started to pound
quicker, louder. I took a couple of steps forward, held out my arms, and hit a
few loose branches. There, only two feet in front of me, was the DragonWagon.
Damn I'd done too good a job with the camouflage. It was right in front of me and
I couldn't see it, knowing it was right there. I waited a couple of hours
before setting up camp, since it would be a noisy process. When I was satisfied
no one would be coming around, I set it up, and went to sleep.</div>
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Tomorrow
I will be heading out into the forest for the Rainbow Gathering. I am both
excited and apprehensive. I have heard, from a multitude of people, really
great things and really terrible things about it. I've been told it would be an
unforgettable experience, something not to be missed. I was told that the
people there are amazing, loving, and accepting. I was told everyone helps
everyone else, and that people there are great. On the other hand, I've been
told people go there to steal. I've been told criminals go there, the homeless
take advantage of the kind, and a truly unsavory lot attend. I've been told not
to go, and I was told not to miss it. I don't know what to believe or what to
expect. I've questioned my decision of going a few times. My conclusion is to
go and see for myself. One of the things I've set out to do on this journey is
to experience life for myself and come up with my own conclusions based on my
own experiences. I will take the warnings seriously, but I will show up with an
open mind. I'll hope for the best, but prepare for the worst. Who knows what
will happen.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnUFPemZk6h6xZK0PLGKM_At_VEi_1AmgG_BtIwq52tz-uoDfMLC4E8OD_jjE3OLqlKYq6lIpHZ_k5kx9M5idYkU24nPnvWi5NnT7kheKEFZHreeQkeQVzOhUale_fdpiOIkzkmPxa65OT/s1600/FullShot.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnUFPemZk6h6xZK0PLGKM_At_VEi_1AmgG_BtIwq52tz-uoDfMLC4E8OD_jjE3OLqlKYq6lIpHZ_k5kx9M5idYkU24nPnvWi5NnT7kheKEFZHreeQkeQVzOhUale_fdpiOIkzkmPxa65OT/s1600/FullShot.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />DragonWagonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10258103841458167822noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-221545659137877472.post-75373592541240952832015-01-12T12:56:00.003-08:002015-01-12T12:56:56.592-08:00Ending 2014<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Ocala<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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My time
at David and Patty's was great. It was really good to catch up with them, spend
time together, and just relax. I did my best to not let those same feelings I
had at Scott's come back to take over my attitude. The first thing I did was
take a shower and wash my clothes. I had a clean set I had been saving
especially for this situation, kept safely in a plastic bag, away from dirt and
dampness. I offered to help around the house, did some dishes here and there,
helped replace a section of screening in their back porch, even offered to do
some yard work (which we never actually got around to. I feel pretty bad about
that). These things helped to avoid the negativity I'd felt previously. David
and I reconnected with a couple of old friends, and I even got to attend a
post-Thanksgiving party with his wife's coworkers where we had a huge potluck
feast. We spent a great few days together before they had to leave town for a
while. </div>
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I hooked
up the DragonWagon, and was on my way to find a decent place to stay. While I
was at David's I'd looked up the closest McDonald's and Burger Kings to his
house so I could have a wifi connection nearby. It was only 3 or 4 miles away,
so it was a nice little walk, though a little brisk as the temperature had been
dropping. I made it to the Burger King in time for some breakfast. I parked the
wagon outside, chaining it to the bike rack, and went straight into the
bathroom for some quick business. I went up to the counter afterwards, to order
my breakfast. "Is that yours out there?" asked the woman behind the
counter before I could say anything, gesturing to the DragonWagon in view
through the window. Crap. My first thought was something along the lines of,
"we don't serve your kind here." I confessed apprehensively that it
was. "Here," she said pulling out a plastic bag and a cup from behind
the counter, "some lady asked me to give this to you when you came
out." Inside the bag was a banana, a honey bun, and a couple of other
breakfast foods, and the cup was a hot coffee. I asked her who the lady was,
but she said she didn't know, she had just dropped off the bag and left.
"Did you still want to order anything?" I thought about it for a
second, since I was still really surprised by this token of kindness from some
mystery woman. I decided, since I don't drink coffee regardless of how much I
try, that I would order a large drink. "Oh, is that it? Here, you can have
it." She handed me the cup and refused my cash. I thanked her humbly for
her unexpected generosity, stacked on the generosity I'd already received.
Humbled. I sat down to enjoy my first Honey Bun, and drew.</div>
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I found a
little patch of thick woods behind a Winn Dixie in the same plaza as the Burger
King, and parked the wagon amongst the trees. It was almost midday, so it was
warming up outside with the sun. I looked around for signs of other
"residents" in the woods, not wanting to intrude on any possible
neighbors. I locked up the DragonWagon, still packed in case I needed to find a
different place, and went exploring. There were a couple of patches where some
people had evidently stayed, empty liquor and beer bottles, random trash
centralized near a tree or two, an old decrepit mattress deteriorated through
time and weather. It didn't look like anyone had been around for a long time. I
went in a little farther, and saw something through the trees. I walked towards
it. As I got closer I realized it was a tent, and a big one at that. It wasn't
store bought, but constructed of mismatched tarps, sheets, and other things. I
kept my distance, not wanting to startle anyone residing in there. It was just
past the opposite tree line of the woods I had chosen, in a more open area
between my woods and the next. This had clearly been here a long while. I
decided not to go straight for it, but rather walk around it. I found what
looked like a bike trail leading to it, parallel with the tree line. Whoever
lived here had their pathway well worn in, well established. My curiosity
begged me to inch closer, get a good look at the camp. From what I could see it
was split into three different areas, the large tent, an area with what looked
like empty crates, and a pile of random junk (possibly treasures accrued over
time). I stood at the bike trail for a couple of minutes, still keeping my
distance. It didn't look like anyone was around, so I could just go in for a
quick look around. "How would you feel if someone were walking up on the
DragonWagon right now? What if you had your camp set up and hoped no one would
find it? That no one would get curious enough to intrude upon it?" I
remembered the note that was left on my tent just a few days prior, "DO
NOT STAY THERE. LEAVE TODAY." It had left me with a horrible feeling of
intrusion. I decided, for the sake of karma if nothing else, to leave this
encampment alone. Keeping my same distance, I circled back around the way I
came, and headed back to my own spot.</div>
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After
setting up camp, I went back to the Burger King for some lunch/dinner and to
draw for a while. I got in contact with one my friends I had reconnected with
while in town. When she found out I was about to camp for the night, she told
me it was too cold for that, and that I should come and stay with her. She even
offered to pick me up since it was already dark out. This meant I couldn't take
the DragonWagon, so I decided to risk leaving it in the woods, hoping my
unintrusive karma would pay off. I grabbed my bag of clothes, my laptop bag,
and my sketchbook.</div>
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Sabrina
welcomed me with open arms. I stayed with her and her friend, Ashley, whom I'd
met a couple of times, years back. They had three kids between the two of them,
two 8 year olds and a 2 year old. We had a blast. I played games with the kids,
helped Sabrina cut down a massive tree branch (with an axe, at least 20 feet up
the tree), we played manhunt in the dark, we climbed on top roof at night and
stargazed (where I saw my first shooting star ever, then my second, then my third),
we built a firepit, and, what turned out to be best of all for me, I drew
pictures for the kids.</div>
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When the
kids had seen me drawing in my sketchbook they begged to see the entire book. One
of them even told me I was "the second best drawer I've ever seen
ever." One thing that bugs me a bit, though, is when people start trying
to guess what my drawings are from. Since I don't ever really draw anything
that already exists in a show or cartoon, it's a bit of a shot to the pride
when people say, "that looks just like 'so-and-so' from 'such-and-such'. I
try to keep it original, but sometimes it takes a kid or two to remind me just
how hard it is to be completely new and different. Soon they were asking me if
I was able to draw certain things. Ayden, one of the 8 year olds, pulled out a
book of dragons and would point out his favorite ones, and asked me if I would
be able to draw one of them. "Is this your favorite one?" I asked him
when he chose the one he wanted me to draw. "No, but I think this is the
hardest one to draw. I just wanna see if you can do it." I guess the kid
was testing my skills. </div>
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After
almost a week with Sabrina and her family, I was ready to spend some time alone
in the woods again. I'm not used to spending so much time continuously around
kids, so it was an exhausting rollercoaster of emotions with them. Plus, it was
time to check on the DragonWagon, and make sure my bad premonitions weren't
made reality. Upon my return, I found, to my relief, that my camp remained
untouched, and seemingly undiscovered. Although, a branch did fall on it.
Luckily it didn't damage anything. Okay, that's cool. I can live with that. </div>
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<b>Christmas<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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My family
was going to spend Christmas in Philly at my sister's, so Papi convinced me to
go. He would pick me up, we would stuff the DragonWagon in the back of his SUV,
and we would drive the 18 hours up together. We spent a wonderful Christmas,
all together. The kids got a ridiculous amount of toys, one of which was a couple
of remote controlled helicopters. Ryan and I got busy setting up the two
helicopters, since the kids really wanted to fly them. The one I was working on
was ready to fly, so I took them outside to try it out. Ashton, who was 4 years
old, asked if he could fly it first since it was his present. Being the idiot
that I am as far as kids go, I saw absolutely no problem with this. Ash took
the controller, I turned on the helicopter, and off it went! It flew straight
up into the sky! It flew up, up, up... Right into the tree. Shit. It got stuck
on a branch some fifty feet up the damn tree. Ash turns to me with the worst
look on his face I'd ever seen. I was at a loss... I tried mashing the controls
with the hope having it nudge itself free, but the damn thing was lodged in
tight. Ryan came out to see the catastrophe that was unfolding, as did the rest
of the family. Cool, I'm that uncle, the one who can't be trusted with kids,
because he will allow Christmas to be ruined. Good job. We tried throwing
things at it, but it was too high up and nothing got close. I tried climbing
the tree but got to about 8 feet away from it before everyone's paranoia, and
the negativity of a nosey neighbor, convinced me it was not worth it. Papi
ended up putting together a makeshift 40 ft "stick" (out of a 12 ft
ladder, some gutters off the side of the house, some PVC pipe, and a radio
antena off his car, held together by some rope and masking tape). We struggled
with it for close to an hour on a six foot ladder, trying to get it down. All
in all, it took us about three hours to get the stupid thing down. I'm sure I
won't be living this one down any time soon. Maybe we've just made a new
Christmas tradition...</div>
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The drive
back to Ocala was a long one, with lots of stopped traffic. All the extra time
gave way for a lot of much needed conversation with Mum. My conversations with
her have been the deepest, most connective ones I ever have, especially lately.
We would go for walks on trails near their house before I started my journey,
and had some of the most meaningful conversations I can remember. The ones in
the car were no different. After all, I'd been pouring out more internal
thought in these blog posts than I ever do in person. I don't excel in one on
one conversation, so this blog has been a very surprising outlet for me. I
never thought of writing as something that would help me deal with what's
happening around me. </div>
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When we
were back in Ocala, we pulled up to the back of the Winn Dixie, out of common
sight, and close to the wooded area I'd stayed at a few days prior. It was time
to unload the DragonWagon in all of its pieces. There seemed to be so much more
than before as we pulled it all out of the car. I had left some stuff behind,
gained a few new things from Christmas presents, so it wasn't exactly as it was
before. It was already dark out, and it was getting late. We'd been in the car
for two days, several hours driven before arriving there, and my parents still
had a couple of hours to drive home. I did my best to get everything put
together so they wouldn't have to wait around. I could tell they were feeling
weird about not being able to help. I was rushing so they could go, but I didn't
want them to feel like I was shooing them away. Finally, when I was about
halfway done putting it all away, Mum said they should go. I agreed that it
would be best if they did so they could get home at a decent hour. They were
reluctant. I could tell they didn't want to leave me here. How do you assure
your parents that you'll be okay, even though things don't look so great from
their perspective? They drove off, and I finished packing it all up. I snuck
into the woods again, and set up my tent in the moonlight.</div>
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*If you get a chance, please read Mum's blog. It broke my
heart to read it from her point of view.*</div>
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http://crathbone.blogspot.com/2014/12/the-dragonwagons-mum-part-6.html</div>
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<b>Ending 2014<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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After
spending a couple of days in the woods, I went back to Sabrina's place for New
Years. We made a fire in the firepit I'd helped her build, I helped around the
house with lights and fans, set up some shelves in her kids' closet, and did my
best to help out with dishes and such. Over the few days I stayed with them we
went rock climbing and even got a canoe trip down the river where we saw some
monkeys. Quite the little adventure. I drew a couple more drawings for the
kids, all by request, and one that Ayden actually wanted to color himself.</div>
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I left
her place after a few days to go back to the woods. I found a different patch
of woods that was a little farther down the road, away from the neighbor I'd
found in the back of the previous one. I didn't want any curious folk stumbling
on my camp, so I'd decided not to press my luck in the same location. I've now
spent 7 days in the woods, bouncing between my tent, the local McDonald's and
Publix. The first day, while I was checking in online at the McD's, there was a
teenage looking kid who lingered around the table next to mine after his family
had gotten up to go. I noticed him out of the corner of my eye, but hadn't
thought anything of it. I was too engrossed in my conversation online with a
friend on Facebook. After a couple of minutes he said, "so, are you just
doing this for fun?" I looked up to see he was talking to me. I explained
it in a few words, then his mother walked up. "He's says he's keeping a
blog, mom." They explained they had seen me a few weeks back when I pulled
up to the Burger King, the morning the mystery lady had bought me breakfast. She
said they were looking at my wagon back then, really curious about what I was
doing. They seemed really happy they ran into me again, and seemed excited to
read up about what I was doing. They left in a bit of a hurry since they had
someone waiting for them in the car, so I didn't manage to get their names.
Thanks for your interest, if you're reading this. It's always nice to have
people intrigued about what I'm doing. They seemed like a very nice family.</div>
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I've
found I prefer being on the move, rather than staying in one location over
time. Why am I staying here, then? I'm sticking around to attend the Rainbow
Family Gathering in the Ocala National Forest at the start of February. After
talking to a few more people about it, and looking it up on the internet, I
think it will be a great experience for me at this point in my life. I'm
looking for new experiences and to meet new people, so this seems like a great
opportunity for that. From what I've heard, it's a gathering where people camp
out together, work on a barter system, help each other out, and pray for the
betterment of the world. The peace, love, and prayer are a little too on the
hippy side for me, but I'm willing to try something new. Plus, with everyone
camping out, it should make me feel right at home, make me blend in easier. Who
knows what I'll learn, see, do, or come out of it with. I'm looking forward to
the experience. Until then, I'll be working on new drawings... </div>
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DragonWagonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10258103841458167822noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-221545659137877472.post-82922976499108055112014-12-21T23:54:00.001-08:002014-12-21T23:54:59.443-08:00Trek 2 - Days 6-12<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Trek 2 (Cont'd)<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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Admittedly,
I've been avoiding this post. I haven't been sure how to write it. I'm not even
sure now. I've started it over several times, but it hasn't come out right. It
felt like I was trying to cover it up, gloss it over, water it down. I'm not
going to do that now. I was depressed. I was feeling down. I had too many
doubts, and I no longer felt sure of myself. The truth is, I didn't know if I
was doing the right thing. It's been a while since I started sweating while
writing, so I guess this is the right way to go about it. I'm going to be completely
honest.</div>
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<b>Day 6 (Cont'd)<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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After
wrapping up the previous post at the McDonald's, having sat there for far too
long, I was ready to set off. I barely made it across the street before noticing
the DragonWagon was dragging a little on one side, pulling slightly unevenly. I
looked back to see a completely deflated tire on one side. Well, they did last
longer than the smaller original ones did. I looked at it closer after pulling
over and noticed the tread seemed fine, just the inner tube had deflated. I
tried pumping up the tire, but it stayed deflated, wouldn't keep any air
pressure. The inner tube must have been punctured. Okay, time to change the
tire then, but I'd never changed a bicycle tire before. Nothing like a good old
trial-by-fire. I had to somehow suspend the wagon in the air so the tire could
spin freely, so I ended up using my foldable shovel. Lifting awkwardly with one
hand, and with the other trying to balance the load on top of the shovel, I
somehow managed to set the wagon up for repair. I used my the screw driver from
my multitool to pry off one side of the tread from the rim, and then removed
the tube from inside. I found it had a little hole on what looked like the seam
where the two ends met. It didn't look like anything had perforated it, so it
may have just been stress from the load that burst it open. I checked the
inside of the tread to be sure there wasn't anything where the hole was, ready
to damage the next tube. Seemed fine. I set in one of my two back up tubes,
then struggled to get the tread back on. As I was attempting to lock in the
last section of tread, which of course turned out to be the hardest part, a guy
on a bicycle asked me if I was okay. I looked up to see him riding a sleek
white bicycle. I told him I was fine, just working on replacing a flat, and
asked if he knew where a local bike shop might be. He said he didn't know, but
that he had some spare change if I needed it. I respectfully declined his
offer, but thanked him for it. I finished reapplying the tread, inflated the
wheel, then awkwardly lifted the wagon to remove the shovel from underneath.
All was well again.</div>
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I reached Scott's house a few hours after
fixing the flat. I got there while he and his wife were putting up their Christmas
lights. They had a beautiful home, I'd been there once before. It used to be an
old nurse's dormitory to an old hospital down the road, which they'd been refurbishing
for some time. When I last visited they had most of their doors down, and were
in the process of sanding and staining them. They had come a long way since
then. All of their doors were up, the place was fully furnished, and it seemed they
had only the kitchen left to do. Their home was pristine, the furniture
flawless, and I was not. I carried on me a week's worth of the outdoors. I
carried a stench of rain, sweat, and dirt. I was filthy, and couldn't have felt
more out of place. They welcomed me warmly into their home, but I felt like an
intruder. They couldn't have been better hosts, and I did my best to be a good
guest, but I absolutely felt like I didn't belong. They invited me into the
living room, on a gorgeous couch made of a material I could not recognize, much
less name. I considered sitting on the floor instead of the really nice couch,
but decided against it, thinking doing so might make them uncomfortable. I tried to sit on as little of the couch as
possible. After a conversation of what I was doing, and what they'd been up to,
I went to take a shower.</div>
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After
what seemed like an eternity in the hot water, I grabbed my bag of clothes out
of my rucksack, and found to my complete horror that all my clean clothes were
soaked. They had been soaked from the rain a few days back, and even though I
had hung them out to dry, they had somehow become completely wet again. Whether
there was still dampness in the rucksack, or something else had been the cause,
there they sat, drenched. I was absolutely embarrassed. I may have stood in
that bathroom too long, willing my clothes to not be wet. I hung up some of the
clothes around the bathroom, hoping they would dry by morning, and was forced
to get back into the clothes I'd been wearing. Correction, I was not forced, I
forced myself. I could have, at any moment, come to them to explain the
situation and ask to use their washer and dryer. I should have done that. At
one point they even offered it, but for some reason I had said, "No
thanks, I'll be okay." This was a stupid response. The correct response
would have been, "Thanks, that'd be great." Was it pride? Was it the
pure embarrassment of the situation? It may have been that they had been so
kind to offer me a place to stay, that I felt I was asking too much of them
already. Maybe it was a combination of all of these. I have put myself in these
situations throughout my life, and have yet to learn from them.</div>
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This
began a spiraling series of doubts in regard to my little
"adventure." This is when I really began thinking about what the hell
I was doing with myself, and how I could have brought this upon my friends. The
voice in my head was ringing loudly and constant, "You see? This is why
you can't do this. You don't belong in a nice place like this, with wonderful
people like them. They have worked so hard on this house and here you are
bringing in the filth. If they'd known this is how you would've shown up, they
probably would never have offered to let you in. You are disgusting, and you
need to leave this place. Leave these great people alone. You should have
checked your bag before getting close, you should have made sure your stuff was
clean, you should not even have come here. You should have never left on this
ridiculous journey. This is all for naught. How could you do this to them?
They've been so kind and all you're doing is intruding on their home, dirtying
up the place. You don't belong here." I walked out of the room they were
letting me stay in for the night, in the same clothes I'd come in with. I did
my best not to let them see how out of place I felt, but I have a feeling they
sensed something was wrong.</div>
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We went
out to dinner with a couple of their friends, but I had already eaten just
before arriving to their house, so I didn't order anything. Instead, I ordered
a water since I felt parched from my walk, but I think they took this as me not
having enough money to pay for what I actually wanted. They took it upon
themselves to order extra appetizers which they vehemently shared with me, and
took to ordering pitchers of beer for the second half of the night, and pouring
me a cup along with theirs. I was humbled, and did my best to be as thankful as
I could. The voice in my head, however, didn't let up on the situation. </div>
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All in
all, it was a great night. We had fun, we talked, we laughed, and there was
even some karaoke involved. I did my best to shake the negative feelings, and
just enjoy the night, enjoy my time with friends.</div>
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<b>Day 7<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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My body
woke me up at 6 in the morning, as I'd been used to on the road. I listened for
anyone else who might be up, but heard nothing. I thought I might as well sleep
for another hour or so, and get up when I hear someone get up. I woke up again
at 7:30, but still heard nothing. We'd been out pretty late the previous night,
and maybe they weren't early risers on a weekend. I decided I should get up in
another hour, maybe start drawing in the living room. The next time I woke up,
though, it was well past 11, and I heard them both in the kitchen. Shit. I
hadn't meant to sleep that long at all. I wondered how long they'd been up. I
felt like an ass for sleeping in like that. I went out to find them both in the
kitchen, drinking their coffee. They cooked a delicious breakfast that morning,
after which I asked to see Scott's recording studio. He's in a couple of bands,
and records for some other musicians as well. After admiring his facilities, I
decided I needed to head out. I hadn't made it clear how long I'd be staying,
so I think it took them by surprise that I was leaving after only one night.
Maybe it was relief. They had been nothing but gracious and kind hosts, but I
didn't feel like I was being the best guest. I decided it was better if I went.
I couldn't shake the negative feelings I'd been feeling the night before. That
afternoon, I packed my wet bag of clothes back into my rucksack, loaded up the
DragonWagon, and set out. </div>
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As I
walked down the road, the voice in my head echoed with every step, "Dirty.
Gross. Unwelcome. Intrusion. Burden. Quit. Stop." I stopped at a Subway
for a sandwich, and ate in sitting on the grass behind the building. I felt
more at home sitting outside, sitting on the ground. It felt right. After
finishing my dinner, I saw the sun was close to setting, so it was time to find
a place to camp. I shouldn't have left their house so late in the afternoon, it
had given me little time to find a decent place. I found some trees behind a
bank, but it was too visible, and too close to the road. I kept going, and as I
was coming to a construction zone with a dirt driveway, a car pulled over right
in front of me. It was Scott. He rolled down his passenger window, and was
holding out what looked like a long stick with something yellow attached to the
end of it. It was my walking stick. I hadn't realized I'd forgotten it at their
place He drove out to get it to me, and had attached a yellow bag of M&M's
to the end. He said he'd driven quite a distance down looking for me, and had
turned around when he decided there was no way I could've walked so far in so
little time. He must have driven past when I was eating behind the Subway. I
thanked him profusely, and apologized for being such an idiot. Like I said,
they were really kind.</div>
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After
Scott drove off, and I walked past the construction site, the next lot I came
to was overgrown, seemingly abandoned, with an old "for sale" sign
out front. It had tire tracks indented down the center of the tall grassy area,
which led to a thick formation of trees. I decided to go in. Halfway down the
path I found a less treaded upon track which cut to the left, so I turned into
it. It lead me far from the road, to a section littered with old trash that
seemed like it had been there for years, untouched. I set up my camp among the
trees where the litter hadn't reached. I didn't go to sleep right away, though.
My mind was racing that night. The doubts were building. The voice was loud.
The depression was setting in.</div>
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"Why
are you doing this? What are you trying to prove? You are just a burden on
people. You have nothing to gain from this. Stop being childish. Go back to
what you were doing before, and stop all of this nonsense. He had to drive out
to get you your stupid stick. He was kind enough to give you candy with it. Do
you understand what an inconvenience it must have been for him when he couldn't
even find you, and ended up driving who knows how far down the road? There you
were eating your stupid sandwich while he was looking for you, because you
couldn't remember to pack your stupid stick. You need to quit all of this, and stop
inconveniencing people."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I did not
sleep well that night.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Day 8<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig8xQ8znHkUB6ogF4kDfQoC1ZoPGKqJ0OjQGJ7p6tGtv9dxwK-EgOHbhWs_aPN21apVYGpq-XK-o6r-PyWr0avhNLKLwWXYAIWfbxDV1y9tU3BP-wBfCM6ivPnQyaARe_wF7MfTbpRoLVI/s1600/IMG_7578.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig8xQ8znHkUB6ogF4kDfQoC1ZoPGKqJ0OjQGJ7p6tGtv9dxwK-EgOHbhWs_aPN21apVYGpq-XK-o6r-PyWr0avhNLKLwWXYAIWfbxDV1y9tU3BP-wBfCM6ivPnQyaARe_wF7MfTbpRoLVI/s1600/IMG_7578.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
I didn't
want to get up. I didn't want to do anything. The doubts were heavy. As the sun
rose over the trees, my tent start heating up, but still I didn't move. The
only thing that made me finally get up was the desperate need for the bathroom.
I decided to get dressed, and head out to the road to find Burger King or
McDonalds. I didn't feel like breaking down the camp, didn't want to pull the
wagon, and didn't feel like traveling, so I thought I'd stay another night. The
location was well enough into the woods that no one would happen by my tent, so
off I went, leaving the tent up with the tarp over it. I went out to the road,
and found a Taco Bell nearby. I used their bathroom and their wifi. I thought
the best thing to do right now was to wash my wet clothes, and make sure it was
all dry before doing anything else. I looked up the nearest laundry place, and
found one just a couple of blocks away. I went back to the encampment, and
gathered up every piece of clothing I had. It was time to wash.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPwB8KUPcNYuy47r0hyLK8QuyC_QoRWHeubDPNHz8ReXmIa5FivXUXg5kCvQ1I0nD6tFnWqo4hpTEnWhzbQ8zcKYR2sXcVzqOseVoeLiY0n683gcDZLaURQKGG8L3KsSWmulXbUhk4SYM7/s1600/LaundryDragonsDWWM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPwB8KUPcNYuy47r0hyLK8QuyC_QoRWHeubDPNHz8ReXmIa5FivXUXg5kCvQ1I0nD6tFnWqo4hpTEnWhzbQ8zcKYR2sXcVzqOseVoeLiY0n683gcDZLaURQKGG8L3KsSWmulXbUhk4SYM7/s1600/LaundryDragonsDWWM.png" height="218" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I got to
the coin laundry, and picked out a washer closest to the bench I was going to
sit at. A small Asian looking lady asked me if she could use that machine,
since it was right next to the other one she was already filling. I didn't mind
letting her have it, so I obliged. "You'd be better off with that smaller
washers down there, anyways. Your load isn't that big." I thanked her for
her advice, and did just that. It was still within view of the bench, so it
worked just fine for me. I loaded it up, and sat down to draw while I waited.
The old lady sat next to me, and we got to chatting while I drew. Her name was
Jackie, and she was living with her mother since her husband had passed away.
She had three kids, whom I later found out she had adopted. She was putting one
of them through college, raising another, while the third was in the Marines. She
mentioned she only used these washers to clean her mother's sheets, since
they're so large. When we got to talking about my situation, I think my doubts
and depression was coming through clearly. She obviously felt sorry for me, and
seemed to think my situation was more desperate than it was. She seemed very
concerned for my well being. "Aren't you scared?" This question hit
me hard on this day. Telling her I wasn't scared was more to convince myself
than her. I think she meant to ask "Aren't you scared that you'll get hurt
or worse?" but on this day I took it as "Aren't you scared that
you're making the wrong decisions? Aren't you scared that you've completely
fucked up?" As we chatted a while longer, she glanced over at my washer
and informed me I hadn't used enough detergent, and insisted on giving me a few
of her dryer sheets to help with dryer. She even told me if she wasn't so busy,
she would've driven me to Ocala. She was a very nice woman, and very kind. I
wished her the best with her family as I left the coin laundry, and thanked her
for her help. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I
got back to my tent, I got a hint of the fear I should've been feeling, the
fear that Jackie had asked about. The tarp covering my tent had been pulled
back, and a note had been taped to my tent: "DO NOT STAY THERE. LEAVE
TODAY." I took a look around, wondering if whoever had left the note was
watching from somewhere in the trees. Was it someone who was staying around
here? Were they marking their territory, upset I'd treaded on their precious
spot? Or was it someone who owned the place, angry someone had trespassed?
Maybe a construction worker from the lot next to this one, giving a kind
warning? I didn't know, and at that point it wasn't important. I needed to pack
up and leave. I took the note off my tent, and stuck it to the tree I was next
to. I put everything away as quickly as I could. I considered how lucky I was
that whoever found my camp was kind enough to leave a warning, not just take or
destroy everything. Before leaving I wrote a response on the note, "OKAY,
THANKS. SORRY ABOUT THAT." I was really thankful all they did was leave
the note.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyjhR5zH9jIEfBEL7lM7b0GJ4CbV1AsSzO1vV_G29BRTDwoQMCcuOSs5CBkjD9aVzUU40s-tDBESnJOnH1WcqngKI9USJr1fbAgdbW_0qkNkIvsv9mYjYew8ULV6MwHNS1Yb4X68SwNn30/s1600/IMG_7579.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyjhR5zH9jIEfBEL7lM7b0GJ4CbV1AsSzO1vV_G29BRTDwoQMCcuOSs5CBkjD9aVzUU40s-tDBESnJOnH1WcqngKI9USJr1fbAgdbW_0qkNkIvsv9mYjYew8ULV6MwHNS1Yb4X68SwNn30/s1600/IMG_7579.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I moved
on until I got to a town called DeLeon. I found a heavily wooded area there,
and went deep, deep into the tree line. I broke through some heavy spider webs,
which assured me no one had been through here in a long time. I set up camp,
still kicking myself for having left the tent up at the previous site. My mind
was still not at ease that night. My doubts still weighed on me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Day 9<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I set out
early in the morning, shaken by the discovery of my camp the previous day. I
didn't want that to reoccur, so I moved before the sun came up. I thought it
highly unlikely anyone would find me this far into the trees, but I didn't
care. I was in no mood for it. I broke down the camp, and hit the road just as
the sunlight hit.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhILJG0qLLQeDJDDEV55jvR7UCgY6iERX3afRGicIPVbUVwGg4R4aY27suwcksfyeorB8TPHln_62rA9KsRubfYws08CkiKtIVNSxceN3kFscDehoUrl7evniOTFRHbV2Gd52iYXyg0SLDK/s1600/MonkeysDWWM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhILJG0qLLQeDJDDEV55jvR7UCgY6iERX3afRGicIPVbUVwGg4R4aY27suwcksfyeorB8TPHln_62rA9KsRubfYws08CkiKtIVNSxceN3kFscDehoUrl7evniOTFRHbV2Gd52iYXyg0SLDK/s1600/MonkeysDWWM.png" height="320" width="176" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I walked
for several miles, stopping a couple of times to draw some monkeys my sister
had requested for her Etsy shop. I walked the bicycle lane on the road, since
there were no sidewalks that far out from town. I always walk against traffic
so I can see them coming. I had to veer off into the grass a few times due to
negligent drivers drifting into my lane. This happened quite a bit on this
road. It really surprised me just how many people are either not paying any
attention, or are giving all of their attention to their phones while traveling
at high speeds. I reflected on how often I was guilty of it. How important was
it for me to send a text that could've taken my attention for the most crucial
of seconds? Why was it so necessary for me to look up that one piece of
information I was curious about in at that specific time? I surprised a couple
of people as I walked, when I saw their eyes lazily leave their screens to look
up, suddenly seeing a person walking on the road. One woman swerved a bit out
of shock as she passed by me. I wondered if I might one day cause an accident
just for being there.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVGs5iMx05Ym-B_ytiMEqPiAyX9bF9_8VJX8YiBzony4GOnFX8Ym2yMX9y0Mskx1xREJuDjAFsTJpqubn7VA_dOaydm5-mLCrs8t6q1RfwJHt6ZIQNFJPpQ7y90i3Jg9vjHfhyphenhyphenRJzKP6l9/s1600/IMG_7582.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVGs5iMx05Ym-B_ytiMEqPiAyX9bF9_8VJX8YiBzony4GOnFX8Ym2yMX9y0Mskx1xREJuDjAFsTJpqubn7VA_dOaydm5-mLCrs8t6q1RfwJHt6ZIQNFJPpQ7y90i3Jg9vjHfhyphenhyphenRJzKP6l9/s1600/IMG_7582.JPG" height="320" width="293" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I
eventually made it to SR 40, and after a quick lunch at the gas station Subway,
and making sure my water tanks were filled as far as they could be, I started
heading west. I was heading into the Ocala National Forest, which spanned about
40 miles. I wasn't taking risks. I soon came across a sign, warning of bears
for the next 30 miles. Something new to look forward to.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdrSIyTDxJ19AkqNy7tA3qnTCNcLeDF8SibXCEY2obz5fRi392kAvsyE1I6gTajiZKK1EHvPKCDa2_eKQACIQ8V6N9c67-zn5kwzeqktnEWXR8c4w6ID6sPugR_scXQkhpzv0AWKtMMfpf/s1600/IMG_7584.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdrSIyTDxJ19AkqNy7tA3qnTCNcLeDF8SibXCEY2obz5fRi392kAvsyE1I6gTajiZKK1EHvPKCDa2_eKQACIQ8V6N9c67-zn5kwzeqktnEWXR8c4w6ID6sPugR_scXQkhpzv0AWKtMMfpf/s1600/IMG_7584.JPG" height="320" width="112" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I walked
several miles without stopping. I had some energy to burn off. I was still
conflicted, still with doubt. I hadn't yet shaken off the voice in my head.
"Quit. Stop now." I walked past a couple of places I could've stopped
for dinner, but couldn't bring my body to stop. My mind was racing. One pizza
place advertised "free wifi," which surprised me this far out in the
middle of nowhere. Sold, you have my attention. I locked up the DragonWagon in
their parking lot, behind some bushes and went in for their "world famous
pizza." Their connection took a few times to work, and it was slow, but it
was enough to tell the family I where I was, and how long it would be before my
next contact. It even managed to send the picture of monkeys to my sister, to
see if they were what she needed. The pizza was, in fact, delicious. After
almost draining my batteries due to the slow connection and lack of outlets, I
set off, close to sunset, in search for a place to camp.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Not far
down the road I found another patch of woods. The sun was setting, so I
couldn't get too picky. I went in, a picked a patch of grass off the path,
nestled between some thorn bushes that put up a bit of a fight. After a few
tears in the tarp and my skin, the camp was set up. I lay in my tent, bummed
out. I wasn't tired, despite all the walking I'd done. I was restless. I was
unfocussed. I tossed and turned, but nothing came of it. I decided I needed to
draw. I remembered seeing a restaurant close to the tree line, so I figured I'd
go there to draw for a while. That should take my mind off things, and let off
some steam. I got dressed, wrestled through some of the thorn bushes, and
headed over. With my flashlight I caught a shiny reflection off one of the
trees near my tent. I walked up to see what it was. It was a metallic sign
posted to the trunk, reading "Bearing Tree." I thought back to the
sign that said "Bears 30 miles," and wondered if I'd walked into some
sort of bear reserve or something. I had no idea what a bearing tree was. That
left me unnerved for a while as I walked to the restaurant.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
*I now know, after a little research, that a bearing tree
shows that there is a boundary marker nearby. That meant there was a marker showing
the boundary of a property buried somewhere near that tree.* </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The
restaurant was a small place, with a bar and a few tables behind a wall. It
seemed a few regular locals were hanging out, and only one waitress was working
both bar and tables. I decided to take a small table in the corner, with some
decent lighting, away from people. I didn't feel much like interacting with
anyone that night. I noticed they were running some sort of special for $1
beers, so I ordered one. I didn't get any food since I'd had the pizza not too
long before. I huddled over my sketch book and started drawing. The waitress
chatted with a couple of her regulars, sitting at their tables, catching them
up on her Thanksgiving dinner she'd cooked the previous week. Everyone seemed
calm and friendly. The place had a very soothing atmosphere. After a couple of
hours of drawing, I felt better, more relaxed. I finished my drawing and asked
for the bill. When the waitress came by to give me the check, she noticed my
drawing for the first time, since I wasn't huddled over it anymore. She laughed
out loud when she saw it, "Did you jus' draw that jus' now? I thought you
were doin' paperwork. I told mah friend over there, here you were, drinkin'
beer and doin' some kinda paperwork. Do ya mind if I jus' show this to
her?" She took my book over to the bar where a few of the locals were
sitting together, and they laughed when she told them what I'd been doing. They
seemed to enjoy it quite a bit, complimented me on it, and one even suggested I
could do children's coloring books. This boosted my spirits more than I can
say. I'd been so down for the past few days that this really affected me in a
positive way. It wasn't receiving compliments that hit me, it was that people
who had been quiet and calm for the couple of hours I'd been there, were
suddenly laughing out loud and conversing excitedly after seeing what I'd done.
We got into a short discussion of how a couple of them used to draw, and they
wished they hadn't quit. I encouraged them to take it up again, telling them
it's done wonders for me. I hope they do. I hope they at least try it once.
This small, seemingly meaningless interaction with these people made my day. I
felt positive again, refocused. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhipZC8qCpuynY2ASyyhf7aktn0Sq1edQcsEMWWqIQlAHqMxSJSn3Pid-367ruRa3576EtLG4pHmU4DbHBlDp_UuU_N-k3m8RCp3i0d0i9FbD9r5tpeIBPgGUg9XoMgFH5-hVcwYTpl_tx-/s1600/FlowerRideDWWM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhipZC8qCpuynY2ASyyhf7aktn0Sq1edQcsEMWWqIQlAHqMxSJSn3Pid-367ruRa3576EtLG4pHmU4DbHBlDp_UuU_N-k3m8RCp3i0d0i9FbD9r5tpeIBPgGUg9XoMgFH5-hVcwYTpl_tx-/s1600/FlowerRideDWWM.png" height="236" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Day 10<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b> </b>I walked with a spring in my
step for most of the day. I rarely stopped since I felt motivated, positive. I
charged forward, and found myself taking the uphills almost at a jog. Nothing
was breaking my pace. Nothing was stopping me. Towards the afternoon, I walked
by a lake with a sign that showed it was for swimming. I almost stopped in for
a swim, after all my walking, but for some reason I didn't want to break my
stride. I had a good pace going, and didn't feel like stopping. A few miles
later I wished I had stopped. A quick swim would've been nice, refreshing. I
decided if I came across any other swimming holes, I'd stop in for a quick dip.
As luck would have it, a few more miles down the road, I came to Juniper
Springs. My heart leapt nostalgically. This was a spot my friends and I had
driven out to a few times while we were in high school. My family and I had
even stopped in once. It was a beautiful place to swim. I decided not to miss
out on this opportunity, so I went in.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm-qNKE1R1EaXYrjjPOtl8oyJ5X0AAXjdPlyEoG2ZRv7gCNzqaiD5MrdinT4AV61akVH63c2zOvhyE8Pgg3g3d9KpMIw8zGA1DIDuJQWbrHaSYj1uBAnNYA_izjc7Zbqh4smX7tq9S1aQe/s1600/IMG_7592.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm-qNKE1R1EaXYrjjPOtl8oyJ5X0AAXjdPlyEoG2ZRv7gCNzqaiD5MrdinT4AV61akVH63c2zOvhyE8Pgg3g3d9KpMIw8zGA1DIDuJQWbrHaSYj1uBAnNYA_izjc7Zbqh4smX7tq9S1aQe/s1600/IMG_7592.JPG" height="198" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
I walked
up to the guard shack at the entrance, and looked over their pricing. $5 to go
in, $21 to camp. As I spoke to the red headed girl in the guard shack about the
pricing, she suddenly looked back at my wagon, "Actually, I can't even
charge you, you don't have a car. We charge for people to park their vehicles,
and they put the ticket in the dash. No one will bother you with this thing.
So, you can come in for free, and if you were to camp on the Florida Scenic
Trail, it would be free, too." I thanked her graciously for her help, and
walked in. I pulled my wagon right up to the spring, locked it up to a nearby
bench, and went into the water. The water was freezing, but divine. It was
crystal clear and full of tiny fish. If I didn't keep moving, the little fish
would swarm me, nibbling at my skin, mouths too small to bite. Also, if I
didn't keep moving, I froze. I swam around for a long while, enjoying the small
patches of sunlight that cut through the gaps in the trees. There were a few
people scattered about the spring. One family seemed to be British, another
American, and a third German. Everyone seemed to be keeping to themselves, enjoying
the spring between themselves.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I swam
to the opposite side of the spring, trying to maintain my body heat up, I heard
a woman ask, "So are you on a spirit quest?" I looked around to find
a couple of women sitting on the wall by the water, presumably speaking to me.
I couldn't get a good look at them, since I'd taken my glasses off to go
swimming. They were two blurry figures who seemed to be facing me. "I
guess you could say that." I explained briefly what I was up to, and we
got to talking for a couple of minutes. I was swimming in my underwear, so
didn't feel much like stepping out to continue the conversation, but staying in
the water in one spot was really cold. I stayed in anyways, moving my arms and
legs as much as I could. We talked for a short while before the lady who had
started the conversation left, but the second woman remained. It became clear
very quickly that she just wanted to speak, since her conversation didn't leave
many opportunities for me to respond. She told me of her life in the country,
her time in California, her home in Canada, her stint in Mexico, the health
insurance in Canada, the injustice of Native Americans of her decent (I can't
remember what tribe she claimed to belong to, but they'd apparently been
excluded from several benefits the other tribes receive). By this point the
cold water was beginning to be torture. Several times she said her goodbyes and
had made to leave, but just continued talking. At one point she turned to a
couple of gentlemen who had sat down nearby and seamlessly aimed her
conversation at them. I took this as my opportunity for escape. I swam back to
my side of the spring, got out and dried off, trying to warm up again.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I'd went
back to the DragonWagon to put my clothes back on, as another woman walked up
to me. She had been on the other side of the water, the German family. She
confessed her curiosity, and we got to chatting about what I was doing. She
seemed like a very nice lady, and I enjoyed speaking with her. She and her
husband had also been traveling for some time, but just recently settled down.
After answering a few of her questions, she returned to her family. I was
getting a few things put away in the wagon, when she returned with a small
child, her son. She told me he had a few questions himself, which he asked her
in German. She would translate the question to me, I would answer, and she
would tell him in German what I'd said. He seemed excited, but shy. I pulled
out one of my sketchbooks, and showed him a few of my dragon pictures. As I was
showing him I asked her if he liked dragons, "Oh he is a boy like any
other. Dragons, dinosaurs, you name it." As they started walking away, having
seemingly satisfied their curiosity, she turned back and invited me over to
their campsite for dinner and drinks later.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I hadn't
planned on staying at Juniper Springs. I figured I would go in for a quick swim
and get a few more miles in before sunset. I debated for a while whether I
should stick to my plan, or stay instead. I decided to take the opportunity to spend
time with this family. After all, a big part of my journey is to meet new
people. One of my goals is to not be as introverted as I have been. This was a
good step for me in the right direction. I walked back out past the guard
shack, to the Florida Scenic Trail the girl had told me about. I found a
clearing big enough for my tent, and set up my camp. I put on the cleanest
clothes I had, and used maybe too much deodorant. I didn't want another repeat
of the depression I had a few days prior. I wanted to be clean and presentable.
I wished I could bring some offering to the table, though. A bottle of wine
would have been swell, that seemed like a thing to bring to a dinner one was
invited to. I had nothing to bring, nothing to offer in return for their
kindness. That's when it hit me, "Dragons, dinosaurs, you name it." I
just so happened to have a print of one of my dinosaurs. It could make a decent
offering for her son, who seemed to like the dragons. I put the print in my
bag, and I set off to meet them at their RV spot. As I walked over to their
place, however, I realized I never asked her her name. I didn't know whose camp
I was heading into. What if she wasn't there, and it was just her husband? What
would I say to him? I wondered if I should just turn around, tuck tail and run.
I decided to keep going. Meet new people. Have new experiences. Don't shut
down.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I reached
their RV plot to find the three of them having dinner already. She told me I'd
gotten there just in time. I sat down with them, and finally managed to formally
make our introductions. Her name was Caty, her son was William, and her
husband, whom I was just meeting for the first time, was Oliver. We drank, we
talked, we ate, we had a great time. William, who was 4 or 5 years old, kept
switching back and forth between speaking German and English. After he finished
his dinner, he seemed to become restless about not getting to his routine time
of TV viewing. He apparently didn't watch much normally, but it was habit to
watch after dinner. He seemed to be too young to fully grasp the concept of
being out in nature. I thought this to be as good a time as any, "I have a
gift for you William, I heard you like dinosaurs." Caty spoke excitedly to
him in German, presumably reiterating what I was saying. He looked eagerly at
me as I pulled out the small print of the dinosaur I'd brought for him. I
hadn't expected such a great reaction, he loved it. He completely seemed to
have forgotten about the existence of television as he ran around the campsite,
playing with the picture of the dinosaur as if it were a toy. It roared, it
flew, it ate, it destroyed cities. I was amazed what an effect it had on him,
and how happy he was with it. After some conversations with Oliver and Caty,
William returned to the table making some requests of his parents in German. They
translated that he wanted to cut the blank parts of the paper around the
dinosaur, which he named Terry the T-Rex, to make it more lifelike. It was
fascinating to see how meticulously he instructed his mother in the appropriate
way to cut around the outlines, all in German. Once this was done, he continued
to play with it as we continued talking.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBw83rnAW5XhcCE2QhkkpZkHV2Kwvoc-CDi3uGGMLWFXCuAne9BBUuUtsq-1U8YIp-THL2yLhkSz226nSPsK3OptvRYEinjvlLY2HXqDzud0At7LDTy06zWQtNzRuoBghiI0AHTMSfpZEp/s1600/IMG_7632.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBw83rnAW5XhcCE2QhkkpZkHV2Kwvoc-CDi3uGGMLWFXCuAne9BBUuUtsq-1U8YIp-THL2yLhkSz226nSPsK3OptvRYEinjvlLY2HXqDzud0At7LDTy06zWQtNzRuoBghiI0AHTMSfpZEp/s1600/IMG_7632.JPG" height="320" width="237" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
I stayed
with them for about 3 hours, talking about travels, people, the differences
between countries, adventure, and nature. We played a couple of games with
William, where we were to pretend to be dinosaurs, dragons, and racecars. His
parents had to remind him a few times that I couldn't understand German, so
he'd explain in English instead. I guess that meant he was warming to me. After
a while he had wound down, but refused to go to bed, not wanting to miss
anything that was happening with the grownups. He fell asleep outside, on a
hammock next to the table we were sitting at, cuddling Terry the T-Rex. This
was, by far, one of the best, if not the best night of my journey so far. This
connection I made with this wonderful family was priceless. I was so glad I
decided to stay, and brave the meeting with strangers. I was so thankful they
allowed me to join them. I went back to my tent happier than I'd been in a long
while.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Day 11 </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b> </b>I awoke to a very foggy
morning. I couldn't see the guard shack from the entrance to the trail, which
was just a few feet away. Packing up the camp was dirty work, since the trail
was all sand and dirt, and the foggy morning had dampened everything. As I
tried to fold the tarp into its place, it tracked dirt, which mixed into mud as
I rolled it. The bottom of the tent was completely covered in dirt and sand, so
I got it all over my pants as I rolled it up to put it away. Everything ended
up with dirt on it, stuck to the moisture. I quickly learned, that in the
future, I'd have to avoid dirt patches for camping in. I set off into the foggy
road, with a slightly soar left ankle from all the nonstop walking the previous
couple of days. I paid extra attention to oncoming traffic, since the fog hid
them until they were only a few yards away.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Several
miles up the road, I couldn't ignore my ankle anymore. I had to stop to try to
ice it, get some of the swelling down. I tried stretching the Achilles Tendon,
but to no avail. It was time to break open the first aid kit for the first
time. I'd combined two different kits into one, so I had a fair variety of
supplies, including two different ice packs. All I had to do was break the
contents inside the pack, and it should have gotten cold. I pulled one out,
crushed it, and waited. Nothing. I folded it, nothing. I read the instructions
more carefully, followed the little diagram as well as I could, to no result. I
smooshed everything inside the pack with
my fingers and thumbs, but still got nothing. Must have broken while in the
kit, or maybe expired? Maybe it was a dud. I pulled out my second ice pack,
read the instructions a couple of times, and crushed the contents. This time
something happened. It went from being warm, to being not-so-warm. Great, good
thing I brought these along for emergencies. Still, the not-so-warm ice pack
was cooler than my ankle, so I pulled a bandana out of my pack, and used it to
tie the pack tightly to my ankle. If nothing else, it served to put pressure on
it with some liquid padding. It seemed to be helping. I sat around for a bit,
drawing, trying to get my mind off of it. The thoughts of serious injury in the
middle of the woods admittedly started creeping in my mind.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I
continued on after some rest, and found that the pressure on my ankle was
helping quite a bit. There was no cooling from the ice pack, but the cushioning
was comforting. I walked a couple of miles up the road, and saw a car pull over
onto the grass ahead. A woman got out of the driver's seat and went to the back
door, rummaging through something. As I got closer, she emerged from the car,
and looked up at me, and started walking in my direction. When she got within
earshot I asked, "Are you okay? Do you need help?" She kept walking
towards me, and as she got closer she asked, "Would you like a
sandwich?" Not at all what I was expecting. She took me quite by surprise.
I told her I was fine, but thanked her for her kindness. "I just saw you
walking there with all that stuff, and it gave ME an appetite. I already made
the sandwich, and I have Dr. Pepper." She told me she was on her way to
work at the hospital with her mother, who was in the passenger's seat. I
accepted the offer of a sandwich, which she gave me two of, but politely turned
down the soda. I thanked them both for their kindness as they drove off,
honking their horn when they passed. There are truly some selfless people in this
world, and they continue to surprise me.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A few
miles later, I came to a small town, and stopped at a small restaurant that
served burgers and hotdogs. I sat down for a decent meal, and took advantage of
the table to draw for a while. After my break, since the sun was getting low, I
began to get ready to set off again. As I was adjusting a few things into the
DragonWagon, a kid on a bike stopped next to me. I had a hard time
understanding his thick southern accent, but by the sound of it, he was trying
to sell me pot. I guess I fit the profile. I thanked him for the curbside
offer, and after a few words, he sped off in the opposite direction. I set off
again.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I
walked, and the sun was setting, I couldn't decide on a good spot to turn into
to set up camp. I was losing light, and there were too many farms around, too
much private property. I finally saw a place just before a curve in the road
ahead, but didn't want to be seen turning into it, since the tree line was
really close to the road. I waited for a moment when there were no cars coming,
and turned in. I wasn't exactly sure if this was a good spot or not, but I
didn't have much time to be picky. There was a seedling patch to one side of
the trees, and a farm to the other, where I heard a dog start barking as I
walked in. Every step I took crunched loudly on the ground covered with dry
leaves. I stopped moving when I heard the barking getting louder and louder.
Was the dog running towards me? Could it hear me? Was it actually barking at
me? I sat down and waited for about 20 minutes, as the sun was setting and the
darkness set in, before I decided the dog was just barking. It may have gotten
louder, but it wasn't getting closer. I set up camp in the dark as the
mosquitoes started feasting, and the dog continued to bark. My tent and tarp
both smelled from the mud they'd tracked from the foggy morning, and the dog
continued to bark. I settled in for an early night, and the dog barked for two
more hours. Finally, it stopped barking, and I got some sleep.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Day 12<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b> </b>I got up early in the morning
to make sure there weren't any curious dogs that may have been let loose. When
I didn't hear any barking, I did my best to clean off the now dried dirt off
the tarp and tent by dragging them across the thick layer of dry leaves on the
ground. It seemed to work quite effectively to scrape off the sand and dirt
that had been stuck on from the moisture. I packed up, and set off up the
curve, taking note that my ankle was not hurting anymore.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Several
miles up the road, I got to a bridge. I really don't like bridges. The bike
lane was narrow, and the climb was steep. This meant I would have a hard climb,
drivers would get little time to see me over the road, and I would have nowhere
to go if they happened to veer into my lane. I decided my best course of action
was to go with the flow of traffic, instead of against it. I crossed to the
opposite side of the road when there were no cars coming, but nearly fell when
I tripped on my own pant legs. That would've been great. I was glad no one was
around to see the awkward recuperation from it. As I climbed the incline of the
bridge, I got to look over the ledge at the beautiful view of a stream cutting
through the woods. As the bridge climbed higher, it passed over another body of
water that came to an end along the tree line, trapping green plants along the
edges. The bridge scaled well above the trees, giving a beautiful view of the
canopy. As I reached the peak, I noticed how many pieces of broken glass and
dislodged metal were littered along the bike lane. Having such a narrow space
to travel, and with cars and trucks whizzing by, I had no way of avoiding the
debris. I took the downhill at a near trot since the angle was so extreme.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I came
to the end of the bridge, I saw a car pulled over ahead. I wondered how long
it'd been there since I hadn't seen it pull over. A dark haired woman emerged
from it and started walking in my direction, with something strapped over her
shoulder. Again, I waited until she was within earshot, and asked, "Are
you okay? Do you need any help?" She shook her head and said, "No,
I'm fine. Mind if I walk with you for a bit?" I was, again, surprised by
the response. "Sure, if you'd like." She told me she'd seen me
walking the previous day, and again today, and asked me what I was doing. I
explained a little bit of what my journey was, and she seemed intrigued. I
noticed it was a camera strapped over her shoulder when she explained she
worked for a magazine. She told me they were doing a special issue which might
fit my adventure, and asked permission to take some pictures and ask some
questions. I humbly obliged. We spoke for a while, she took some pictures of
the DragonWagon and some of my drawings, we exchanged contact information. Before
she got back in her car, she said, "I'm glad I decided to wait for you at
the bottom of a bridge." I was flattered and humbled.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After she
left I crossed back to the opposite side of the road, so I would be facing oncoming
traffic again. I noticed as I was crossing, though, that the load on the wagon
was a little off, so I stopped in the grass on the other side to adjust it. As
I was hooking up the last bungee cord, a jeep pulled right up to my wagon on
the grass. A tough looking man came out, and walked up to me. I stayed close to
my walking stick. "Are you here for the gathering?" Being the nerd
that I am, the first thing that popped into my mind was Magic: The Gathering, a
card game. Then I thought cult. Then I imagined robed figures standing around a
virgin sacrifice. Next I wondered if it was some kind of local code for drugs
or something. I responded, "Umm... I don't know of any gathering, so I
guess not?" He laughed. "I thought you were here for the Rainbow
Family gathering, what with your bandana and wagon and all." He explained
that every year, hippies from all around got together at different national
forests around the world, calling themselves the Rainbow Family. They joined
together to celebrate peace and nature and the like. Apparently there was a
gathering in the Ocala National Forest around February, but people often
started showing up as early as December. I told him I hadn't ever heard of it,
but it definitely sounded like something I might look into. He gave me a couple
of websites to check out, and even gave me his own email, in case I was in the
area and needed any help or a ride, said his name was Ron. I thanked him as he
drove off.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I made
sure my pack was secure, and started walking up the street. I didn't get a
quarter mile from the bridge before I realized I had a flat tire. This was my
last replacement tube, so I'd have to stop somewhere to fix or replace the
punctured ones. It didn't take me long to replace the tube, since I'd figured
out how to do it the previous time. After fixing it, I started walking again,
but didn't get a hundred feet before noticing the other tire was now flat. Fucking
shit, come on. Best I could figure, all the debris on the bridge I couldn't
avoid must have done a real number on my tires. I was now out of replacements.
As I was evaluating my situation, a thick bearded man on a motorized bicycle
pulled up and stopped. "You with the Rainbow Family?" Okay, that was
weird, it had barely been an hour since I was asked the same question. We spoke
about the gathering, he told me he'd been involved with them for years. He
mentioned how they were all really kind, really giving, and since he was part
of the cleanup crew, he got to keep a lot of equipment that was left behind
every year. I eventually asked him if there was anywhere nearby I could fix my
tire, and he mentioned a Walmart just a couple of miles up the road. I thanked
him for his help, and asked him his name. "My name is Ron." What the
hell?? Two Ron's within one hour, and both asking about the Rainbow Family I'd
never heard of before? Creepy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I
continued on up the road the couple of miles to the Walmart. I reached a Burger
King just outside of it, and decided to go in for some food first. I contacted
the family for the first time in a few days of walking through the forest,
letting them know I was alive and well, despite a few hiccups along the way. I
found I was in Silver Springs, just outside of Ocala, and that I had just
passed my turn. The road I passed was CR 35, but on the map it read as 58th
Ave. Thanks for that one Apple Maps. When I finished communicating with
everyone, I went to throw my trash away.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was
a couple sitting at the table by the trashcan, and as I walked by, the man
said, "You must be here for the Rainbow Gathering." You have got to
be kidding me. "No, but you're the third person to say that to me today.
At this point I'm starting to think I might as well be." I spoke for a
little while with the couple, who were homeless. We talked about the Rainbow
Family for a little while. They were telling me their experiences with it, and
what they knew about it. I introduced myself, and I shamefully forgot the
girl's name, because the man introduced himself as "Ron." No fucking
way. I meet three complete strangers on
the same day, they all ask me about these Rainbow people, and they're all
fucking named Ron??? I can't write this down in a blog and expect anyone to
believe me. "Ron" must be some kind of code name. That must be it. If
you ever ask anyone about the Rainbow Family, it must be a rule of some kind
that you have to refer to yourself as Ron. There's no other explanation for it.
It must be something like "Friends of Dorothy." </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
After my
non-credible experience at the Burger King, I went to the Walmart to get
replacement tubes for my tires. I fixed the tire, and set off down the road I'd
passed. I reached David's house just as night fell, and thus ended my second
trek.</div>
DragonWagonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10258103841458167822noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-221545659137877472.post-55961317709018243942014-11-29T08:42:00.002-08:002014-12-06T18:32:04.524-08:00Trek 2 Days 4-6<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>DAY 4<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Happy
Thanksgiving! I was thankful on this day that it didn't rain, and that the sun
came out to heat things up. It was a beautifully clear blue sky. There were no
clouds in sight, and the sun was hot and welcoming. I decided it was time to
pull out the long pants to replace the cargo shorts I'd been wearing. It was
pretty chilly in the shade with the wind blowing slightly. I pulled out my bag
of clothes from my rucksack, and my stomach dropped. It was soaked. Everything
inside the rucksack was completely soaked with icy cold water, down to the
core. All my cold weather clothes were moist and cold, despite having covered
it all with the tarp. What good is it for if not to stop water from getting
through? I gave the tarp a disapproving look as you would a dog who tore up the
trash. What did you do?! Well, this put a damper in my morning. Luckily the sun
was shining, so I held off breaking down the tent, and used it, instead, as a
clothesline. I hung up the clothes I would wear for the day, and stuffed the
rest back into the rucksack. I'd deal with those when I reached some laundry
place.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb_9Dbn1ZnZp_GKnNdzXwU1twL-_cxeNqdY1WbCL6r3IprVX1VfHtfJDiM7JDwuwClvyolejCHzizomqDkCZE7Q0QyOqHpKe1HSV69m24iWXcXhPFk4I4a3kdXErClq3sFabsZ1UmyKpzi/s1600/Gold+DragonDWWM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb_9Dbn1ZnZp_GKnNdzXwU1twL-_cxeNqdY1WbCL6r3IprVX1VfHtfJDiM7JDwuwClvyolejCHzizomqDkCZE7Q0QyOqHpKe1HSV69m24iWXcXhPFk4I4a3kdXErClq3sFabsZ1UmyKpzi/s1600/Gold+DragonDWWM.png" height="320" width="302" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I sat
down on my yoga mat to avoid the cold concrete, and drew for the first time
this trek. I sat there in my Batman pajama pants, clothes air drying, in the
middle of a field, on a concrete slab, drawing. I was happy. I was content.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Once my
clothes were dry enough I decided it was time to hit up that McDonald's to
finish writing and post my blog entry. I broke everything down and rolled out.
When I reached the McDonalds, though, I found it was closed. Of course, it was
Thanksgiving. People spend time with family on Thanksgiving, and places remain
closed. I would have to postpone my posting until another day. On I went.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0xw0fqRkJEVObjY6lcucUK-McfT_V6fNfUd5xHPfjgyBbpMmcQbkarEOg-9he6dP2slsfYGPSk4GjYO1M9CVX-HNclfaU4mFGA8lTQ_Iiyrye2I5XHl9BTbzFFJTbrdLD7BFhOCN4PboF/s1600/IMG_7558.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0xw0fqRkJEVObjY6lcucUK-McfT_V6fNfUd5xHPfjgyBbpMmcQbkarEOg-9he6dP2slsfYGPSk4GjYO1M9CVX-HNclfaU4mFGA8lTQ_Iiyrye2I5XHl9BTbzFFJTbrdLD7BFhOCN4PboF/s1600/IMG_7558.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I finally
hit Highway 17, which headed me north, and I realized this was where I'd
calculated 100 miles! I made it to three digits' worth of miles. That felt like
a momentous accomplishment worth celebrating. I saw an open Wawa across the
street, so I decided a celebratory feast was in order. I got a hoagie and a
soup, and celebrated on the curb behind the station. This was a good day. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I continued
north up the road. I didn't go far before I saw a black jeep stopped up ahead,
and a man coming out of it. I saw he was holding a black plastic bag as he
headed towards the sidewalk I was on. "Would you like a hot turkey
dinner?" he asked. I looked around to see whom he was addressing, and
realized there was no one around except us. I stammered some kind of thanks,
and his girlfriend came out of the jeep to join us. He hurriedly led the
conversation, not giving me much of a chance to say anything other than "thanks,
I really appreciate this," and before his girlfriend reached us, he was
turning to go. He bumped into her for not having seen her, and they both got
into their jeep and drove off with a quick "Happy Thanksgiving." His
name was Scott, but I never got to talk to the lady. This was another situation
I wished I could have said more, done more, but their wonderful gesture was not
unappreciated. Having just eaten my Wawa feast, I tied the plastic bag to the DragonWagon,
deciding it would make a great dinner.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I didn't
walk two miles more before a guy on a motorized bicycle rode up behind me. I
veered off the sidewalk to give him room to pass, but he stopped instead. He
asked if I wanted some turkey, to which I declined, telling him I'd only just
received some dinner. He insisted in me having it, so I accepted, overwhelmed
by the sudden surge of kindness, and before I could say or do more, he rode off
in the direction he came from. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have to
stop at this point, and really appreciate all that's happened on my journey. I
have encountered so much unexpected kindness since I've started my adventure,
that I'm completely overwhelmed. People have offered me so much help,
assistance, meals, money, kindness, and well wishes that I don't know what to
do with it all. It's filling me up with such gratitude I may soon explode. From
the first kid, Sheradon, who gave me nuggets and $5, to sheriff McCue who
offered me new wheels, to the family man who bought my breakfast, to Scott and
the kid on the bike who gave me turkey dinners on Thanksgiving. This is not
even mentioning my friends who offered me their couch for a few weeks, and my
parents' never ending support. I have some serious karma to pass forward. I
have a lot of kindness to give out before I feel balanced again. I am so
thankful for each and every one of these people. I hope everyone receives this
sort of kindness in their lives. The world is turning out to be a much better
place than I'd expected. My faith in humanity is flourishing.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I
continued walking, carrying two turkey dinners, I came across a homeless man at
an intersection, asking for help. I offered him one of the meals I'd been
given. He thanked me for it, then said he could really use some cigarettes
instead. I told him I unfortunately didn't smoke. I thought for a second I'd
give him some cash, but decided not to since he'd be buying cigarettes with it.
I was pleased that I gave him a meal, I didn't need to give him smokes. Maybe I
should have, just to perpetuate the kindness train, but I felt it a better
kindness not to. Maybe I'm wrong.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd1_V_JzXuoBvp_QRcgqZnDWiUs2G4kptNyEAXbtnOyjrELKQtrQ0OVt7u2u2-D8gw_cTWWXObByz9pB1KhFZBgf5X3ZZ3S4DGD2hNH15JFXCBCH9zrkSdzsa5aDrlJ1t-khS-l38MIA_1/s1600/squirrel+1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd1_V_JzXuoBvp_QRcgqZnDWiUs2G4kptNyEAXbtnOyjrELKQtrQ0OVt7u2u2-D8gw_cTWWXObByz9pB1KhFZBgf5X3ZZ3S4DGD2hNH15JFXCBCH9zrkSdzsa5aDrlJ1t-khS-l38MIA_1/s1600/squirrel+1.png" height="238" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoWrRZy5OdGlwMrN7xWwhqzRQ-CKioYphRQp1z41K_0OYtoMWmDZ3p8MItkJkFZdNHVy-i4w3g_9TEtmtDP-1rXYqgwOEQpk_jOGo_i9wuDmL4iiIeR4Agcuy-GspN12RRH4Ds4YckjFah/s1600/squirrel+2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoWrRZy5OdGlwMrN7xWwhqzRQ-CKioYphRQp1z41K_0OYtoMWmDZ3p8MItkJkFZdNHVy-i4w3g_9TEtmtDP-1rXYqgwOEQpk_jOGo_i9wuDmL4iiIeR4Agcuy-GspN12RRH4Ds4YckjFah/s1600/squirrel+2.png" height="259" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
As the
sun was getting close to setting, I started looking for a decent place to set
up camp. The pickings were slim, since I'd reached Sanford and was close to
downtown. I kept looking around as the sun got lower and lower, and the wind
began to pick up a bit, dropping the temperature. I came to a cluster of trees,
and turned in to check it out. There was a sign that said it was city property,
and trespassers would be prosecuted. I went in to see if there were any decent
hiding spots, but found none. I stopped for a minute to weigh my options. It
was about to get dark and cold. I could try to set up here, and dodge the cold,
but I'd be in serious risk of being seen. I could try to keep going, but I
might not find anything better. I decided I couldn't stay there. I was about to
stand up to go, when I heard some rustling behind me. I look at the tree I was
sitting against, and there was a squirrel right by me. He stared right at me,
still as could be. I slowly pulled out my camera, and he got a little curious
about it. People here must feed the squirrels regularly, because he came off
the tree and braved the ground right next to me. I held the camera in my hand
as he assessed whether it would be good food, or whether he should even reach
for it. This was a fun little interaction, I really enjoyed it. He eventually
decided this was not food and that I was not worth the interest, so he
scampered off back into the tree. I rolled on.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0fo_rQvjK19gHYi-NtDEYtMBBgkbLJtxozMh4nR4jimcNL4fT6UwrG6e3_FP-MFkHobNBSiNf8-f3YC6-fWPCXb7JO16-Rxn7ytWVF9sMuYpbB-Bc80Nq03TZJ8V1Ov2K-hw5Bo_5iDQ4/s1600/IMG_7563.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0fo_rQvjK19gHYi-NtDEYtMBBgkbLJtxozMh4nR4jimcNL4fT6UwrG6e3_FP-MFkHobNBSiNf8-f3YC6-fWPCXb7JO16-Rxn7ytWVF9sMuYpbB-Bc80Nq03TZJ8V1Ov2K-hw5Bo_5iDQ4/s1600/IMG_7563.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I
continued up the road, until I came to some railroad tracks. I looked down one
direction that looked too cluttered with buildings, then down the other
direction, which looked like it had some residential areas. I looked at a
building down the second direction that looked like an old abandoned warehouse.
Seemed like the best option at this point, so I followed the tracks toward it.
When I reached it I found it had a truck yard in the back, with a big opening
in the fence. I passed through, I went to the corner. It was completely empty.
The courtyard was fenced in all around, and there was overgrowth breaking
through the concrete in several places. This place had been deserted for a long
while. I checked to make sure no one else had gotten the same idea I had of
making this a temporary home. Once my perimeter check was successful, I quickly
set up camp as the sun disappeared beyond the horizon. I quietly thanked Scott
and his girlfriend for the delicious meal I ate that night.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9shnKtr6aapU4tI4PxLdg0br-q6KFy0c0noMtp4qawVH45MXPEibLzcXR4Kv6O0WvswGjtkWUQ7bvGK5-Ew8MfDqbzbD7sGOCvIvBNu9KszLz6SdYI1O-ND1v1arquwwNYhLYSLw8Mxqn/s1600/GOPR1849.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9shnKtr6aapU4tI4PxLdg0br-q6KFy0c0noMtp4qawVH45MXPEibLzcXR4Kv6O0WvswGjtkWUQ7bvGK5-Ew8MfDqbzbD7sGOCvIvBNu9KszLz6SdYI1O-ND1v1arquwwNYhLYSLw8Mxqn/s1600/GOPR1849.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
The
courtyard was bare, so it did little to block any wind as it came in bursts.
Inside my tent, the gusts inflated the tarp, which bellowed every time. It was
a cold and periodically loud night. Every time the wind blew in, rustling and
inflating the tarp, I woke up abruptly. At one point I couldn't sleep because
the gusts had come too often, so I got up and looked at the sky. It was
beautiful and clear. I looked at the stars for a while as I walked around the
courtyard, and really appreciated the beauty of it all. What a grand adventure
this had been turning out to be. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>DAY 5<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My
fingers were a bit numb this morning as I rolled up my sleeping bag. It hadn't
been as cold as the previous night, but the bursts of wind were not forgiving.
I was a bit clumsy in breaking down the camp, and periodically had to stop to
warm up my hands in my pockets. It was a bit of a cold start, and a bit
sluggish. I considered avoiding concrete camping in the future, at least when
the weather is cold. After I packed everything up, I headed out through the railroad
tracks, back to the road.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I did a
lot of constant walking this day. With the wind blowing consistently, I had
little motivation to stop. I walked through Sanford, I passed a large lake that
the road wound around, and then I came to a bridge. This looked like one of
those bridges that interstates have, with the concrete walls, and the two lanes
split individually. I didn't want to get on it only to find there was no lane I
could use, then be blocked in with speeding cars by the concrete walls, so I looked
for an alternate route. I saw a little side road that had a much smaller, older
looking bridge at the end of it. It must have been the bridge that was used
before this new fancy one had been built. The smaller bridge seemed to have the
large iron girder structure on the sides, and was probably not used as much. I
decided this was my better option. I took the small side road, which led to a
park. I reached the small bridge, then realized why it seemed so much smaller.
It only went halfway across the water, then seemed to be cut off. I got a
little closer to get a better view. There was a sign at the entrance to the
bridge saying something about it being a memorial bridge. They'd apparently cut
out the other half to allow bigger boats to go by. Damn. I turned around back
up the side road, heading to the bigger bridge. I tried to find any alternate
route, but it seemed this bridge was the only one around. I went up it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3rwwHgBMI1itV0SG0F4UrVkFfJWyZBqLMjv8w-T4AyZlMLmqJcp-enYiOAfXp1aIzDoAEFsaaiIImql5nEUHoyXWbfj1xfcGv4EpH0qWWKcXEZqPqSa9Qm8U9SZlAIF8lMTR5wQBEeXi2/s1600/IMG_7565.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3rwwHgBMI1itV0SG0F4UrVkFfJWyZBqLMjv8w-T4AyZlMLmqJcp-enYiOAfXp1aIzDoAEFsaaiIImql5nEUHoyXWbfj1xfcGv4EpH0qWWKcXEZqPqSa9Qm8U9SZlAIF8lMTR5wQBEeXi2/s1600/IMG_7565.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was a
hard push up the incline of the bridge, and my legs burned from having taken no
breaks that day. Thankfully the side lane was as wide as a car, so I stuck
close to the side wall, as far from traffic as I could be. I saw the smaller bridge
off to the side, much lower down than the one I'd gone up. I reached the peak
of the bridge and looked out at the lake. The view was magnificent. There was
some other large bridge a couple of miles away, and the sun was reflecting
beautifully off the water. It was a great sight, well worth the climb. The
decline of the bridge was fun, with the DragonWagon pushing me from behind,
trying to go faster than I allowed it. I was at a jog from the weight of it. I
got to the bottom of the bridge and found I'd made it to DeBary "The River
City."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWevNniBE4cJUKWZOA-sTqZIb5QykBdvBxEirAV0RSjdE4o_i0qDJSIE8_1YCVVym4yK3nkZyGEUJJON1WPrsDh2IyKhejgUxVdOdvBdCfkyYlFKlGmbP2abkbBteQPqg28MRQnqIy_XMg/s1600/IMG_7567.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWevNniBE4cJUKWZOA-sTqZIb5QykBdvBxEirAV0RSjdE4o_i0qDJSIE8_1YCVVym4yK3nkZyGEUJJON1WPrsDh2IyKhejgUxVdOdvBdCfkyYlFKlGmbP2abkbBteQPqg28MRQnqIy_XMg/s1600/IMG_7567.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After
several more miles, and a few rumbles from my stomach, I came across the 4B's
breakfast place. This was the only restaurant I'd found for a long while, so I
decided to stop in. I rolled the wagon around back, and hid it behind the
dumpster, between some trees. I walked into the restaurant, and was really
relieved to find that they'd put the heater on inside. I ordered a hot
chocolate, and enjoyed some delicious French toast and ham. A few more miles
down the road I came across another McDonald's, and decided it was time to post
the entry I hadn't been able to at the previous one a couple of days back. It
took me a little too long to finish the post about the first three days, so I
decided I would set up camp somewhere nearby and finish writing the rest in the
morning. I found a perfect little spot behind a plaza full of doctors' offices.
There was a hill next to a small lake, with trees and bushes hiding the camp
from sight. The bushes also worked to block the wind, so I was particularly
pleased with this location after the complications of the two previous nights. As
I finished setting up and the sun was setting, I smelled something delicious. I
realized I'd only eaten the one time for breakfast, and that I'd been walking
all day, but my camp was already set up. I took a look around, and found that
as the sunlight was dimming, my tent wasn't visible at all unless you walked
right up on it. It was far enough out of the way that it seemed unlikely anyone
would wander towards it, so I decided to risk it. This was the first time I
would walk away from my set up camp site. It was risky, but I felt pretty
confident with my concealed location. It was time for some dinner. Luckily, on
my return, my confidence was met with confirmation, as no one seemed to have
found my encampment. I got into my tent with a full belly, and was pleasantly
surprised to find the inside was relatively warm. I was far enough from traffic
that I couldn't hear it, and covered enough by bushes and trees that the wind
couldn't reach me. This, so far, had been the most perfect spot to camp. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNDXZHjZrE_4gr13tjKMbPKvaI8xyE9Gk5a2QgwqzQ7BUA61TvliGjTrpi-CMO5n3vG4RTKM4rE038b05s4u0MS5UaLjnfv1GpREHATleS7QDx0a-yr2KzpgMGAttbXuSTZda-yfabq_G9/s1600/IMG_7574.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNDXZHjZrE_4gr13tjKMbPKvaI8xyE9Gk5a2QgwqzQ7BUA61TvliGjTrpi-CMO5n3vG4RTKM4rE038b05s4u0MS5UaLjnfv1GpREHATleS7QDx0a-yr2KzpgMGAttbXuSTZda-yfabq_G9/s1600/IMG_7574.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirbk9WaNHFO5tFBcGD6Eky5meaB7u8KJpsQSTP_B_b7O96RdjaML8LngZWCyA4rzYRJoV5ZGvEtIx5MbqiPCDDdmwQ8HzLw3nXzUuPGpW_DmAy9e2gQ1xaQweyQS6rD7JdX2U15CW1qu5j/s1600/IMG_7573.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirbk9WaNHFO5tFBcGD6Eky5meaB7u8KJpsQSTP_B_b7O96RdjaML8LngZWCyA4rzYRJoV5ZGvEtIx5MbqiPCDDdmwQ8HzLw3nXzUuPGpW_DmAy9e2gQ1xaQweyQS6rD7JdX2U15CW1qu5j/s1600/IMG_7573.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>DAY 6<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b> </b>It was a beautiful sunrise
over the lake in the morning as I broke down the tent. There was still a little
chill, but it was nothing compared to what it had been the previous days. By
all accounts, this was a great morning with a clear sky. I got myself over to
the McDonald's early in the morning, and set up the DragonWagon just outside
the window where I would sit and write this post. As I set myself up at the
table, a couple of older gentlemen approached me, and started asking me about
my trip. One of them, Trevor, was visiting from England, and his friend, whose
name I regrettably don't remember hearing, was a US Navy Veteran. They were
curious about the wagon, guessing I was prior military due to its organization.
They seemed fascinated to hear about my reasoning for my journey, and when I
told them I was writing about it, they asked for the blog. If you guys are
reading this, thank you for your interest in my adventure and for your donation
to my cause. I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am now
just a few miles away from Scott's house, who invited me to spend a night. He
used to be a coworker of mine, and is a good friend. I look forward to catching
up with him. I'm now all caught up with my blog, and am anxious to see what the
next few days have in store for me. Once I leave Scott's place, which is in
Deland, I'll be heading to Ocala. The route I've chosen will cut through the
Ocala National Forest, so I'm looking forward to that. Here goes Day 6!</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
</div>
DragonWagonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10258103841458167822noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-221545659137877472.post-53143516284022843772014-11-28T13:22:00.000-08:002014-11-28T13:22:21.010-08:00Trek 2 Begins<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Days of Rest,
Friends, Family, and Work<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So much
has happened these past few days, it's hard to know where to begin. Commissions
have been taking off! I'm about to start working on my fourth one, and couldn't
be happier. Anyone else want a drawing done?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My first
commissioner, who had me draw his snake, Chanda, liked it so much he came back
to the cafe to buy my prints. He gave me a glowing email detailing how much he
liked my drawing style. </div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<i>"I
really love your artistic work, & am proud to now be in possession of a
small collection of it (including a custom Commission). Your perspective
on these 'anatomically-correct' Dragons is remarkable. I see many clever
areas where your understanding of real animals such as dogs, cats, horses,
lizards, & birds has informed your conceptualization of these mythical
creatures. I also like how you go beyond anatomy & capture the
life-force & feelings in the Dragons. Notions of innocence,
playfulness, role-playing, wisdom, patience, & fatigue are evident in your
Dragon's rendered dispositions. You are using the Dragons as a dramatic
mechanism to investigate the general sense of life, as living beings encounter
each other. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>As you probably
already suspect, I realize that the difference between a 'monster' & a
'friend' is almost entirely dependent on the perception of the person
considering the status of the subject animal. Your art achieves the
opportunity for the viewer to consider both choices & decide."<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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I don't
know how to explain the feelings this gives me. I never imagined this much
success would fall in my lap so quickly. I may not be a millionaire in cash,
but I feel rich. These, plus the other commissions, have given me the
confidence and financial standing to continue on my journey. Somehow, my crazy
plan is working.</div>
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Spending
good quality time with my friends,
Tessa, Croix, and Alex, who put up with me in their living room couch for way
too long, was refreshing and re-energizing. Seeing them challenge themselves to
achieve their goals has filled me with inspiration. From graduating university,
to applying for grad schools, to even auditioning to sing in bands, this group
of friends is unstoppable. I wish you guys the best of luck in your upcoming
endeavors, and thanks for putting up with this dead fish in your living room
for so long.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjOSGh1EE95Mybz4OKUr-AU6VNXKdH4v1vvov_4owGK2D583gXywZrXiRxAyKWAzLey8QaHQ6BGvaSYZiQNbzutsFQrSsHdfETnES4TXGwNS-BouuyBYO1OXBnN2WQq56_1BvWm4lhdyI3/s1600/photo+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjOSGh1EE95Mybz4OKUr-AU6VNXKdH4v1vvov_4owGK2D583gXywZrXiRxAyKWAzLey8QaHQ6BGvaSYZiQNbzutsFQrSsHdfETnES4TXGwNS-BouuyBYO1OXBnN2WQq56_1BvWm4lhdyI3/s1600/photo+2.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Xvnv2cFjZtEAaUwmUPL6sw5N2MDnoX2NYRLmFwAQtcAd5RJr5PT4S9H-6_NlGkOREEWzBpKJNK9Pq7YUYXGXe_K0YRGtxAunCKoKVvyFAi36ZoZbLjd21St2il7Abr8CCVR_o0BOvGzU/s1600/photo+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Xvnv2cFjZtEAaUwmUPL6sw5N2MDnoX2NYRLmFwAQtcAd5RJr5PT4S9H-6_NlGkOREEWzBpKJNK9Pq7YUYXGXe_K0YRGtxAunCKoKVvyFAi36ZoZbLjd21St2il7Abr8CCVR_o0BOvGzU/s1600/photo+1.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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I met up
with another friend, Ryan, who had been my director for a couple of Orlando
Fringe Festival shows, who introduced me to The Artistic Hand, a pottery studio
and art gallery. He took me there and I managed to make my very first sculpture
(at least since playing with Play-Doh as a kid). Didn't turn out too bad. It
felt so good to be surrounded by artists of all levels, working on their craft.
I met the studio owner, Del, who was a very generous and kind man. He offered
his knowledge, his help, and even some lessons in culture (I learned what
Alice's Restaurant was). He even offered to put some of my prints up in his
gallery. I can't believe how much support I've received since I began this
trip.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtkLBsjNguzJtSQPxjlPqI0YF4GxGWZWJ5LUwcZKyG7QVHJtC0U49ye5Pf4IZqw_OzIC3kun8vLB6i2h96-zRcxe79WVUNS4dFD0opdYni_PPKMS7Danp6IFSyMGPjtdS-WNDlyFOs7rRk/s1600/photo+(5).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtkLBsjNguzJtSQPxjlPqI0YF4GxGWZWJ5LUwcZKyG7QVHJtC0U49ye5Pf4IZqw_OzIC3kun8vLB6i2h96-zRcxe79WVUNS4dFD0opdYni_PPKMS7Danp6IFSyMGPjtdS-WNDlyFOs7rRk/s1600/photo+(5).JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiui48bQXykfUnc85nXA9xAL8Z_kr7V7TJRt-AbRqvZTUZaaoBXAhGEYh1fZbF9Y0b6JoYsbDOo-phD0kNKWK-Rd99JpYzwd7U8Kd5xchE7QUGh09P15c2lK-sItW0o5QRjF7i2Tp3_BPcY/s1600/photo+(7).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiui48bQXykfUnc85nXA9xAL8Z_kr7V7TJRt-AbRqvZTUZaaoBXAhGEYh1fZbF9Y0b6JoYsbDOo-phD0kNKWK-Rd99JpYzwd7U8Kd5xchE7QUGh09P15c2lK-sItW0o5QRjF7i2Tp3_BPcY/s1600/photo+(7).JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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My sister
happened to fly down to south Florida for her new job, and we managed to meet
up at our parents' for a weekend. Papi picked me up from Orlando so we could
all spend a couple of days together the weekend before Thanksgiving. This may
very well have served as our own Thanksgiving/Christmas weekend. Who knows
where I'll be by then. My sister has been also working on her Etsy shop, where
she sells custom painted wooden stools, custom bracelets and necklaces, and
other crafty personalized items. She had four orders to fulfill, so we all
pitched in, formed an assembly line, and got to work. We were working on four
personalized kids' stools, sanding, painting, laughing. My sister then had the
brilliant idea that I should draw on some wood cutouts. I would draw them and
she would paint them. They turned out great. She is such a good painter. We'll
be doing more of this in the coming future, so if you like these, please check
out her store: https://www.etsy.com/shop/OffTheTree .</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUopnx9w27Jy_Y5gdM12k4t4Qr_OJsmjA1HRaz0NiQducRHcWBSlMk3NYSGfgVnaltDRJqdcFrsLElcOanWaHYAm9T_hRTYlBjB0BljMVQQ3Ld8jgsfnfm8O6XJ_HF2aFYoki9FuNQzNet/s1600/photo+(6).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUopnx9w27Jy_Y5gdM12k4t4Qr_OJsmjA1HRaz0NiQducRHcWBSlMk3NYSGfgVnaltDRJqdcFrsLElcOanWaHYAm9T_hRTYlBjB0BljMVQQ3Ld8jgsfnfm8O6XJ_HF2aFYoki9FuNQzNet/s1600/photo+(6).JPG" height="320" width="284" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixnRuzy9Y36_7apxmPf0SG6rM4GTYIAp5wFiwOJMIJLphOliEBgiYUX400Vs52VViOdmVw2GiuqrQ0F7bPdNzrmVf1rXE7m9_SH3LOO7OA5K5akETlmpfY9QjtS0_LOoc64LwNB64CxWeS/s1600/photo+(4).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixnRuzy9Y36_7apxmPf0SG6rM4GTYIAp5wFiwOJMIJLphOliEBgiYUX400Vs52VViOdmVw2GiuqrQ0F7bPdNzrmVf1rXE7m9_SH3LOO7OA5K5akETlmpfY9QjtS0_LOoc64LwNB64CxWeS/s1600/photo+(4).JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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Since my
sister was in town, she brought my nephews in, too. We got to spend some time
together and play some games. The main game was pulling the DragonWagon down
the hill, with them on it. Papi had used the small wheels we'd disassembled
from the original DragonWagon to make a garden wagon for the house. He
reassembled the wheels onto a plywood base, and refashioned the handle to its
original function. The kids had a blast, and so did I. </div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW4CPBLfFAXVFZbKniudEhWiAsS1f2l86QBQg75HbFv3PyGVkydoS2hIU153ZsHjFHjQMWRtYpiC_l_oPvp81cqbUaO-JM_d8xp9qp7TPoh-beG42uAagIyMLoLPXkKxUEfGhbU4Sqr-PK/s1600/DragonWagon+Logo.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW4CPBLfFAXVFZbKniudEhWiAsS1f2l86QBQg75HbFv3PyGVkydoS2hIU153ZsHjFHjQMWRtYpiC_l_oPvp81cqbUaO-JM_d8xp9qp7TPoh-beG42uAagIyMLoLPXkKxUEfGhbU4Sqr-PK/s1600/DragonWagon+Logo.png" height="162" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Once I
was back in Orlando, it was clear that I was ready to take on the second step
of my journey. I was so pumped up for the adventure, I even came up with a logo
I hope to soon incorporate in my works. I may even turn it into a business
card/letterhead. For now, baby steps.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>BEGINNING TREK #2<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>DAY 1<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRAubWaS1gCMMGQ2e3FQoDy3v6uD3EN5sJdlpWM4DwIrELEqQ5Vh7B8SJxA7nzF9Tp42tpdPmZYbtcrGvxGo9u5CIfVfVu1bQTFeWmOYxY-FBMmhPb-Yv-QQ62ZBxUOcNhyQ1C5ax-41Hn/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRAubWaS1gCMMGQ2e3FQoDy3v6uD3EN5sJdlpWM4DwIrELEqQ5Vh7B8SJxA7nzF9Tp42tpdPmZYbtcrGvxGo9u5CIfVfVu1bQTFeWmOYxY-FBMmhPb-Yv-QQ62ZBxUOcNhyQ1C5ax-41Hn/s1600/photo.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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I got too
comfortable at my friends' place, my stuff was all over the place. I'd spent
too much time there, and it took a while to get all my belongings back into the
DragonWagon. Their apartment was on the second floor, so this consisted of
lugging the wagon down the stairs before loading it up. This took a few steps.
Lucky for me, Alex had offered to help me, otherwise I'd really been putting
the new wheels to the test. After several trips up and down the stairs, filling
up water jugs, toting the rucksack, and gathering the last few things I'd
dispersed around their home, I was ready to go. This would be the first time
the new DragonWagon would have the full load on it, so it was a real
trial-by-fire. After some minor adjustments with the belt harness, and some
redistribution of the water jugs, I was all set. I was on my way. I was
planning on swinging by the cafe one more time to say goodbye to everyone, so
Alex got in his car and went ahead. He slowed his car down as he was passing
me, rolled down his window, and asked, "Why do I feel like an asshole
right now?" I laughed as he sped away. </div>
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The cafe
was only two and a half miles away, and I'd made the trip many times in the
days I'd been staying with them. This time was a little different, since I was pulling
the DragonWagon along. It was a different feel, a new rhythm. Where the
original design had four wheels with moving joints that allowed it to flex,
this one had only two wheels and no moving joints. Every push, pull, and jolt
translated straight through the structure and to my hips. It did give me more
direct control of the wagon, but at the same time presented some more
interesting challenges in movement response. After about a mile, though, I fell
into rhythm with it, and it was a breeze. The larger wheels were a huge
difference in a positive way. I no longer felt all the little bumps and
pebbles, and the tiniest obstacles were no longer complete obstructions.
Veering off into the grass to dodge on comers was no longer a massive
sacrifice. The DragonWagon has evolved.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I made it
to Natura Coffee and Tea in minimal time, and sat down with my friends for one
last goodbye. Croix, who was just finishing her shift there, introduced me to a
guy at the bar who had recently done a walk of his own. He'd gone from Orlando
to Savanah (if I remember correctly), and managed it in 3 weeks. Shit! That's
nuts. He said the most he'd walked in a day was 45 miles. That's a bit much...
Definitely humbled my amazing achievement of 15 miles in a day... He had also
used a wagon, but was doing the trek for an independent study in human nature.
Before I could ask more about it, he tended back to his friend at the bar, and
the conversation was over. I turned to my own friends, and wondered when would
be the next time I'd see them. We've been on so many adventures together that
it made me wonder what adventures of their own they were heading into now.
Where would we all be if we were to meet again? I have faith we'll cross paths
in the future. I'm curious what the circumstances will be.</div>
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We all
headed out of the cafe together, and hugged our last goodbye. I went to strap
myself into the DragonWagon as we were saying our farewells, a scene fitting to
a movie, until I realized the harness was too loose. One of the bolts holding
the harness had snapped its head right off. Shit, really? I went less than
three miles, I sang the praises of the new structure, we did our epic goodbye
scene, and my shit's broken? Great. No, this isn't embarrassing at all. They
offered to drive me to Home Depot, offered their help by guarding the wagon
while I went, but I declined. This was indicative that the next adventure had
begun. What would this trek be without challenges akin to the wheel fiascos of
the first one? I assured them I'd be fine, that I would make it to the nearest
Home Depot on my own. After spending so much time in their home, I couldn't
help but feel that I'd become an imposition, despite their claims to the
contrary. It was time I became my own burden once more. I turned the
DragonWagon around, and started clumsily pushing it ahead of myself.</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The
journey to the Home Depot was an interesting one, wrought with minor
challenges. The main challenge, of course, was finding the best ways of pushing
or pulling the wagon. Pushing it meant micromanaging its direction. The
slightest veering to one side or the other meant running into bushes, falling
off the path, or unintentionally scaring on comers out of the way. Pulling it
meant the constant occurrence of the larger wheels catching the heel of my feet
and pulling off the back of my shoes (in middle school we used to call this,
"giving someone a 'flat tire.'" Irony).</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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After a
few miles, I'd reached the Home Depot, with only minimally sore arms and
scraped heels. I hid the DragonWagon in the bushes behind the store and locked
it up. Completely inconspicuous. I was hoping to get stronger bolts to replace
the broken one, and have a back up or two for when the second bolt would
inevitably snap, but they didn't carry them. I was hoping for grade 8 bolts,
but they only carried grade 5, which was what the original ones were. This
didn't help much. I bought 8 of them for good measure, and hoped I'd reach an
Ace Hardware along the way. I grabbed some dinner at a nearby Chipotle and ate
it outside a Buffalo Wild Wing that offered free wifi, as I communicated to my
family that I was heading out and spending the night outside a Home Depot.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I
replaced the bolt to the harness, set up my camp in the bushes, and tucked in
for an early night. There was a light "pitter-patter" on my tent
walls as I drifted to sleep to the sounds of traffic nearby.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Day 2<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I broke
down camp in the morning, and headed out. The Home Depot had been in the
opposite direction than my destination, so I was retracing my steps from the
previous afternoon, only this time the DragonWagon wasn't biting at my heels. I
looked back at my tarp I'd used at night to cover the tent, and saw that it was
dripping a surprising amount of water. So much for the
"pitter-patter." I glanced back a couple of times to see it still
draining in the first couple of miles. I found it slightly odd, but my
attention was quickly diverted as the skies split open to let the Niagara Falls
come down.</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidlUjfFTrvi5DOxpCJVAuACdS38NYGjahI4WYJVwyFCOkIZkOlXRe98qV1XnS_5OFCzJzHvYIRu8MXwUK006_B1DraKUrif0PGVTbsaHT8eY5H5Ylv4oVwh7fDNzYsZv48ED_6YY2pfNQe/s1600/GOPR0850.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidlUjfFTrvi5DOxpCJVAuACdS38NYGjahI4WYJVwyFCOkIZkOlXRe98qV1XnS_5OFCzJzHvYIRu8MXwUK006_B1DraKUrif0PGVTbsaHT8eY5H5Ylv4oVwh7fDNzYsZv48ED_6YY2pfNQe/s1600/GOPR0850.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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This is
what I'd been simultaneously dreading and hoping for all at once. I dreaded the
rain because I didn't know just how waterproof the wagon was, with my laptop
and drawings inside, but I welcomed it at the same time, because I love the
rain. The downpour was so sudden and so intense, that whatever shortcomings the
wagon had with being waterproof, there was no turning back now. With this
resolution I could bathe in the glory of the downfall with no regrets, and I
loved it. A big truck hit a puddle at the shoulder of the road with the perfect
timing to shower me completely, and I found it hilarious. What a great feeling
of release. Freedom. It was gross road water, sure, but it was instantly washed
away by the broken dam in the sky.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then came
the familiar abruptness of reality behind me. It hadn't yet been three miles
from the Home Depot by the time the brand new bolt I'd replaced bent and
gradually snapped, bending the other bolt which then took the full weight of the
wagon. It would soon snap, too, but it was surprising it hadn't already. I
easily removed the broken one, but couldn't fit its replacement in the same
hole, since the other remaining one was bent, skewing the holes. Keep in mind,
the skies are still torn open, and there is a constant flow of water falling.
It was easier to see without my glasses at this point, which is really saying
something. I ended up stripping two bolts trying to fit them into the skewed
holes before I figured out I should loosen the bent one. This was no easy task,
since the bend was at the most inconvenient spot. Don't forget that rain. I
finally get the bent bolt loose, get the new bolt in the skewed hole, and
tighten the bent bolt back. The raining continued to fall as I set off again.
It was only a half mile before the bent bolt snapped, and I fought to replace
it. This time I had the common sense (and prior knowledge) to loosen the other
bolt before trying to fit the new one in. Genius. I made my way again through
the rain, still enjoying its splendor.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
By the
time I'd finally reached an Ace Hardware, the two last bolts had loosened and
bent, and I was doing the best I could holding the parts together to take the
stress off the hardware. The rain was kind enough to keep me company all the
way through. I got the new, stronger bolts, and enthusiastically replaced the
inferior ones. I purchased a few replacements for possible future
complications.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was
a Popeye's in the same plaza as the Ace, and as I passed by I saw chickens
roaming their parking lot, pecking at the ground. If only you knew, chickens,
if only you knew. I continued up the street, and realized I'd reached Oviedo. I
was only a few steps away from my destination, The Artistic Hand. I was going
there to drop off those prints Del said he could put in his gallery, and be on
my way up to Deland. I reached his studio, and presented my prints, but they
were not up to par.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I'd never
sold anything in a gallery before, so I was a little oblivious to any common
practices in doing so. I figured it would be as easy as putting them up in
Natura, a couple of tacks to hold them up and a price tag with a title. This
was not the case here. I was slightly embarrassed when Del showed me the other artists'
works, with hard backings and framed in matting, all in a slick plastic sleeve
fit to size. This was a professional gallery after all, and my presentation
would be below standard, not to mention the dangers of customers handling said
prints, and potentially damaging them.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After
some failed attempts at trying to matt the prints on my own, I decided to try a
picture framing store I'd passed on the way to Ace. I set out as the sun began
to set and the rain began to let up. By the time I got there, however, they'd
been closed for thirty minutes. Damn. They would open again at 10:15am. What a
specific time to open... Okay, no problem. I decided to stop by the Popeye's
for some quick dinner, and wondered about those chickens again. I wondered if
they knew what they were pecking at on the ground around the restaurant. I
headed back to the Artistic Hand to glaze the little sculpture I'd made when
Ryan brought me. When I got there, Ryan and his girlfriend were there, working
on their projects. We worked until around 9 until it was well past time for me
to set up my camp for the night. I'd completely violated my "always set up
camp before nightfall" rule.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I took
the DragonWagon back to an empty lot I'd found on the way back from Popeye's
and tried to sleep to the deafening sounds of water pellets constantly pounding
the tent all night. I missed the "pitter-patter."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Day 3<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b> </b>The rain continued through to
the morning, and presented a new challenge to breaking camp. I had to do it all
under the tarp, lest I pack puddles of water with my tent, soak my sleeping
bag, and saturate my belongings with dampness. It took some real mental power
of will to get out of the warm sleeping bag, and start the process of packing
everything up while crouched under the tarp. The real motivation I had was the
lull in the rain intensity that gave me the best chance to keep everything
relatively dry. Being so close to the ground, I got a good view of the load on
the wagon, and noticed that the water jug by the tarp was empty. I hadn't used
any of them yet, so I was surprised. I looked closer and realized that it
didn't even have water to the level of the spigot, it was completely empty.
Even if the tap had accidentally been pressed, there would at least be a little
bit left. I turned it over and found a gash on the bottom. Then it dawned on
me. When I'd noticed the tarp dripping a suspicious amount after a mere
"pitter-patter" night rain, it wasn't the tarp dripping, it was the
water jug leaking. At some point when one of my awesome bolt breakdowns
happened, this water jug must have taken some damage. Add it to the list.
Thankfully I had three other ones.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I managed
to break down the camp, packed it all under the tarp, and strapped it all down.
That's when I realized it was only 5am. I had 5 hours to kill before the
picture frame place opened, and the rain was pouring. I decided to walk around
Oviedo and take in the sights. This proved to be very difficult, however, since
every sidewalk I took came to an abrupt end, and there were few to no bicycle
lanes to speak of. That little adventure killed about 30 minutes. I went back
to the Ace Hardware where I remembered seeing a bench under an overhang. I
spent some time there, watching the chickens at the Popeye's dodge the rain. I
watched the darkness of night melt away as the sun rose somewhere behind the
rain clouds. I felt the temperature drop drastically. It got cold, and the cold
was sharp. The wind picked up. I'm no meteorologist, but sunrise should add
some heat to the equation, not have the opposite effect. I demanded a refund on
this sunrise. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sitting
still was no longer an option, so I paced the plaza. I had my raincoat on, but
that did nothing for my soaked legs. I realized in these moments that I'd
prepared for heat, I'd prepared for cold, and I'd prepared for wet, but I had
not prepared for cold and wet. This was a problem. Luckily, the Ace Hardware opens
early, and they sell rain suits. I got the heavy duty one. I combined the pants
with the coat I was already wearing, and all was good with the world. My pacing
was working to maintain a good body temperature with the rain suit bottoms.
Crisis averted.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Around
8:30 I finally decided to head out and find some breakfast. Along the plaza
overhang I saw a man sitting on another one of the benches. He asked me what I
was pulling, and I told him it was a wagon with my camping gear. We engaged in
conversation, but I felt bad because I could barely understand him. I gathered
his name was Alfonso, and after I explained my journey to him, he told me that
if I'm in town on the first, I should "hit a brotha up." We shook
hands and I set off into the rain.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Across
the street from the framing store I was waiting for was a breakfast place, so
my decision was an easy one. I chained up the DragonWagon to the bicycle stand
outside one of their windows, and got a table facing it. A happy looking couple
in the booth across from me asked how far I was going, where I was coming from,
etc. We exchanged a couple of pleasantries as another family sat in the
opposite table. After looking around the restaurant and noticing all the
chicken themed stickers and paintings, and recalling all the chickens I'd seen
outside the Popeye's, I asked the couple about them. "Oh, the Oviedo
chickens have ALWAYS been here," was as far as the explanation went. Fair
enough. Just then a particularly fuzzy-looking white chicken strutted by my
window. Point received.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I took my
time with my breakfast, since I was killing time for the store to open and it
was still cold out, so the couple was finished and gone halfway through my
meal. They wished me well on my travels. A man from the family next to me asked
me what I was eating, a country fried steak breakfast, which I highly
recommended to him. Unfortunately they'd already ordered, "but there's
always another day," he mused. I continued to eat, and just as they were
leaving, the same man asked me "is that your rig out there?" pointing
at the DragonWagon. I said yes and we engaged in what was now becoming somewhat
routine for me, where to, how far, etc. Just as I expected him to ask the next
predictable question, however, he caught me off guard, "can I pay for your
breakfast?" I was a little speechless. I hadn't expected that at all. I
stammered some awkward response, and he took my receipt up to the front with a
"good luck on your journey." Thank you family man, the end of that
breakfast tasted especially good.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The store
never opened. There were no signs saying they'd be closed the day before
Thanksgiving, but they indeed remained closed past their 10:15am time posted.
After 10:45 I decided it wasn't worth the wait. It was too cold to stick around
waiting for an "if," so I set off. I would have to matt my prints
later down the road, outside of holiday time, and ship them to the Artistic
Hand. I needed to keep moving to beat the cold. </div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At this
point I began to have trust issues with sidewalks, because they end so suddenly
and abruptly sometimes, that they leave you in some cumbersome predicaments. This
was one of those times. As I maneuvered onto the road I had to stop as two
police cars raced past, lights and sirens blaring. I looked down the road as
they stopped only about a half mile away. I managed to get on the road as a
fire truck and an ambulance went to the same location. A few minutes later I
arrived on the scene, where a car had skidded into a power line pole, snapping
it in half. The ambulance had already left when I passed by. I asked one of the
officers if I could be of any help, already knowing the answer. He told me to
move along, and to mind the cables in case they happen to come down. I hoped
everyone was okay, and thankful I wasn't there as it happened. Although if I
had been, maybe I could have helped. Who knows...</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The rain
continued to drizzle, and I realized what an inconvenience this was to the act
of drawing. I hadn't been able to draw anything the past few days, and that
really bummed me out. I was getting the itch.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Several
miles down the road I reached a McDonald's with free wifi. I went inside with
laptop and chargers, and got to writing this post. Just as I'd gotten in,
though, the clouds parted and the sun came out. Thanks for the timing, irony. I
spent a couple of hours with my six-piece nuggets, really milking my sweet tea,
writing my blog. The sun started to set, and I cut it short, unable to post it
online, lest I lose the light to find a decent camp site to set up in. I
figured I'd post it the next day, early in the morning. I remembered passing by
an open field with some tree clusters about a mile back, so off I went.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
The field
had a couple of concrete patches that may at one point have been roads of some
sort, completely decrepit by now. I found a smooth patch behind a few trees,
and set up camp. It had just turned dark as I finished setting up, and down
went the temperature. I got under the tarp quickly, hoping to dodge the cold,
but, slowly, it crept in under the tarp overnight. This was the coldest it had
been. If I had to guess, and hopefully not exaggerate, it may have been in the
40's or 30's. It was enough cold that my brain jolted me awake a couple of times,
screaming, "DANGER! DANGER!" It didn't help that the sleeping bag I
was using was slightly damp from all the rain, and that I'd set up on the cold
concrete. I finally decided, in my half asleep daze, that it was time to pull
out the cold weather sleeping bag, which also turned out to be wet. I'd been
using it as a pillow in its bag, so I switched them, using the warm weather
sleeping bag as the pillow instead. Again, my brain alerted me mid-sleep that
this was insufficient. I eventually snuggled myself with both sleeping bags,
the cold weather one inside the warm weather one, and passed out. When I woke
up at one point in the night, I realized my body heat had dried them from the
inside out, and I was nice and toasty. I slept well after that.</div>
DragonWagonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10258103841458167822noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-221545659137877472.post-92057357860949669302014-11-12T11:40:00.000-08:002014-12-06T18:27:32.170-08:00First Commission and DragonWagon Modification<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>My First Commissioned
Work<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For the
past week and a half I've been spending time reconnecting with friends. It's
been so rewarding to spend the time to go around meeting up face to face. This
is something I've been missing for some time. This is something I see happening
less and less. I've been so involved with my job that this is something I've
not taken the time to do. I want to do it more.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My friend, Croix, urged me to put
some of my drawings up at an artsy tea shop she works at. I was hesitant at
first, but agreed. I tried to be excited about it, but there was a deep fear
holding my confidence hostage. Putting it up on a wall was serious business. It
was ACTUAL business. This would be me putting a price on my work, and showing
the world what I'd done. At least the limited world of this tea shop. As I
spread my pieces across the bar, wondering which ones to put up, one of their
customers started looking at them. He commented on the style of one of my
dragons, and appreciated the detail of it. I felt abashed, my throat dried up
instantly, and I was unsure how to comport myself. I thanked him humbly, then
he whipped out his phone to show me pictures of his snake. He was the owner of
a boa constrictor named Chanda. She was beautiful. She had amazing patterns,
and a change in colors at the tip of her tail. He was telling me more and more
about her, until, out of nowhere, I found myself telling him I could draw her
for him if he'd liked. "Who said that? Where did that come from? What are
you doing to yourself?" piped in the familiar voice in my head. His eyes
lit up, and he said he'd love to have a drawing of her in that same style.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Shit.
Okay. The pressure immediately set in. The weight of what I had committed
myself to clung on to my shoulders and didn't let go. I was going to try to
draw someone's pet, a creature they see on a daily basis, an animal with unique
patterns, shape, and features. The way he described her, he'd be able to recognize
her from a lineup of identical snakes, and I offered to illustrate her
likeness. "Idiot. Now you've done it. Now you're committed. Now you're
asking some poor unsuspecting person to give you money for your impending
failure." The size of the piece was larger than any I'd worked on before,
the subject matter was one I hadn't done before, I didn't know the client, and he
wanted it in color which I don't do well. "You're going to fuck up. This is
when you find out this was all wrong. You don't know what you're doing."
As I'm writing this, Queen's "Under Pressure" is aptly playing at the
tea shop. Appropriate. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The
process of drawing Chanda was grueling. I enjoyed doing it, but the voice was
ever present throughout the process. "That's not what she looks like.
Those patterns are wrong. That's not even the right color. He's going to hate
it. He's actually going to be offended by this. If you think he's going to look
at this and see his snake you're disillusioned." The color did seem
impossible to match from the photos, and no matter how many angles of her he
sent, the patterns seemed impossible to discern. It was an emotional
rollercoaster. I felt pride in the work, but the voice kept pointing out all
the things that were wrong in comparison to the actual photos. As a whole,
after looking at the final product, I liked it. I thought it looked good, I
just didn't think it matched her color. The style was right, the color was off.
The photos showed her being more pale than I could show, more yellow, more
white, more brown.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The time
of truth had arrived, and I set up a meeting with him. I walked the 2.2 miles
from my friends' place to the tea shop where I was meeting him, which was more
than enough time for the voice to give me an earful. It bashed my confidence
lower with every step I took closer to the meeting. "He's going to hate
it. He's going to hate it. He's going to ask for his money back. He's going to
hate it. He'll say it's terrible. He's going to hate it." I waited at the
tea shop for him, with the broken record in my head repeating incessantly.
Finally he arrived.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He
brought Chanda with him. He transported her in a bucket, where she curled up
snuggly. He pulled her out and I got to see her majestic scales, muscular body,
and her beautiful patterns. She was stunning. After staring at her pictures for
hours, seeing her full "gestalt," as he'd put it, was overwhelming.
He started pointing out unique parts of her pattern he really liked, and they
were ones I'd noticed and included in the drawing. He showed me the distinct
coloring of her eyes, and it was something I'd drawn into her picture. The more
he proudly displayed and described her, the more confidence was dripping back
into me. He handed her to me, and I felt her weight, her strength. She was a
little nervous about being handled by a stranger, but I really liked her. After
a minute of her squirming out of my hold, desperately trying to get back to
him, I handed her back. I mustered my courage, and brought out the drawing.</div>
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He seemed
to really like it. He liked the color, the style, and the overall layout. It
had been based on his favorite photo of her, where she's slithering toward the
camera. In the photo, her tail hadn't been showing its intricate change in
color and different patterns, so I'd changed her positioning slightly in the
drawing to display it proudly. He was really pleased with the piece, and I was
relieved with his reaction to it. Joy. Relief. Success. </div>
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I've now
successfully completed my first commissioned work. This is the first time I've
been paid to draw something. Someone paid for my efforts, and were pleased by
them. I gave him a representation of an animal he loved. This is it. This is
what I'd hoped for every time I felt depressed at work, thinking I was doing
the wrong thing. I'm still sitting at the tea shop after our meeting, and not
sure what to do with myself. I feel pride, happiness, fear, confidence, hope. I
could do this. Maybe people could want me to do this for them. Maybe I could
get by, doing this. Maybe. Thank you, Croix, for pushing me to put up my work
pubicly. Thank you, Rip, for giving me the opportunity to draw Chanda for you. </div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>The DragonWagon 2.0<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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<b> </b>After all the breakdowns the
DragonWagon took in the first trek, a few modifications needed to be made. The
current design was not up to the task. I needed a different set up, different
wheels. I conversed with Papi, and we brainstormed on what we should do with
it. We decided it would be best to bring it back to his garage, and work on it
there. He picked me up in Orlando, and we started loading the decrepit wagon
into his car. This felt like it went against what I'd set out to do, but I
needed to get this right, so I could continue on. I swallowed my pride, and
loaded the rest of my stuff. We met up with a guy we found online who was
selling some parts we needed, so the trip back to Palm Bay happened to go
through the same route I'd walked up.</div>
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Irony did
not miss the mark on this hour long drive through my one week path. I pointed
out to him the places I'd remembered sleeping, eating, breaking down. It seemed
like a bad joke to pass it all so quickly, cheapening my experience so soon
after it'd happened. Too easy, too quick. It occurred to me that the number of
experiences we miss out on for driving our cars are innumerable. The number of
sights we miss, the connections never made, the challenges never overcome are immeasurable.</div>
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Papi and
I worked on the DragonWagon as we had the first time, laughing, arguing,
butting heads, but, overall, enjoying the challenges of the project while
working together. These may be some of the best times I've spent with my dad.
I've treasured these times immensely. I was glad I'd agreed to come back to his
place to modify the wagon.</div>
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A
disassembled tricycle, different hardware, and many nuts and bolts later, the
DragonWagon is ready to ride again. Hopefully this time it'll last longer than
30 miles in 3 days before she breaks down again. Hopefully now grass and other
terrain other than asphalt won't be like dragging a rock, digging a trench as
it moves. Trek #2 will be from Orlando to Ocala, roughly 75-85 miles, so about
the same distance as the first. We'll see how it goes this time.</div>
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DragonWagonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10258103841458167822noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-221545659137877472.post-63763283330168255722014-11-03T16:30:00.000-08:002014-11-03T16:30:20.528-08:00Days 6 & 7<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Day 6</span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I laid in
the motel bed a little too long. I'd hit the snooze button because the sun
didn't beat down on me today to make me get up. I didn't have a tent to break
down, or a load to pack to head out. My DragonWagon was still wheels-up in the
living area of the room, and my belongings strewn about haphazardly. I felt a
lingering twinge of depression that I wasn't outside. The room was stuffy
without a working AC unit, but I didn't mind that, I just missed the breeze
outdoors. It was time to get up, time to get moving. I stalled a little longer,
then got up.</div>
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<br /></div>
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The
previous night, Papi and I had strategized which wheels were good, which needed
what replacements, and which he should take with him so I didn't carry extra
weight. I had ordered two new wheels and two replacement inner tubes, so we
adjusted accordingly. We switched out the bad rim with a good one, and he took
the two wheels that were basically destroyed. This left me with two good
wheels, two deflated wheels, and the two new wheels that I'd ordered. That
means I'd change the inner tubes on the two deflated ones, and end up with 6
total wheels, for the next emergency. All seemed well.</div>
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I took
the two deflated tires with me to get them fixed, and hoped the new ones had
arrived on time. Joe, the mechanic, had told me they would arrive 8:30-9:00am,
which worked out well since I needed to check out of the room by 11:00am to
avoid any fees. When I got to the tire shop with my two deflated wheels, I was
overjoyed to find out the wheels and inner tubes had indeed arrived. This was great
news. My stomach plummeted, however, when I saw that the two new wheels were
just the treads. No rims, no ball bearings, no inner tubes included. Damn.
Somehow, ordering two wheels and two EXTRA inner tubes meant two tire treads
and only two inner tubes. This complicated things. I left my two deflated tires
with Joe to get the tubes replaced, and decided my best bet was to get the
worse looking treads replaced as well. Since the two wheels the sheriff had
given me were newer (or rather older but less used), I decided to keep their
treads on, and replace the two originals. I ran back to the motel room and
grabbed the older tire, and decided, while we're at it, might as well grab the
other one to make sure it was inflated enough. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I ran
back to the tire shop with the last two wheels, then Joe and I had a little
confusing back-and-forth about which tread went where, what tube was getting
replaced, and what tire just needed some air. It was a confusing exchange for
both of us, and my time was starting to tick away. He finally got to work on
them all. He gathered some tools, and started to work on his shop floor, one
wheel at a time. I watched him struggle trying to get the two sides of the rims
to meet just right, so I offered him an extra pair of hands to keep them
together while he bolted them. He said he had it. This frustrated me a little
more than I'd care to admit, because it would've been much easier for two
people to do it. He struggled at it for a while, and it was slow work. He may
have been more used to working on car and truck tires. These were microscopic
in comparison. He eventually got to the last tire and could not manage to get
the pieces together. He tried again and again and again, and I could see his
own frustration mounting as much as my own. That's when other customers arrived,
needing to rent a trailer, a big ticket item. He set his tools down and went to
assist them. He was on my last wheel, and he left to help his customers who
seemed to know him by name.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am not
one for confrontations. I am not one to complain about petty things. I don't
tend to get angry with unfair treatment. I was, however, disappointed and frustrated.
This is something I could just do myself at this point. I had to fight the urge
to get in there and finish the job and be on my way. The temptation was great.
I had a small urge to say something along the lines of, "would you mind
just doing the last tire real quick so I could go, please?" but I didn't.
Something about being the outsider in a Southern town, amongst people who know
each other, made me think that it would only hurt my situation. I was patient.
I waited. Joe helped them get their trailer hooked up, got their necessary
cables, and was ringing them up as another customer pulled in. This customer
was looking to buy a tire for his pickup truck, another big ticket item. Joe
finished with the first customers, then went over to the new one to see the
specifications of his truck. It was now 10:05am, which meant I had less than an
hour to get this wheel done, put them back on the wagon, pack up, and get keys
turned in. My patience, at this point, was irrelevant. When Joe walked back
from the truck to the shop, where I was standing, to see if he had the
necessary parts, I managed to say, "hey, Joe, I gotta check out of the
motel by 11, so..." He assured me it would be okay, then went to speak to
his other customer. Another customer was just pulling in, and my nerves were
tingling. He spoke briefly with them, then came back to my tire, finished it
up, and rung me up. Relief. The bill, though, was not what I had expected.
Since the new tires were only treads, they had required labor to apply, which
was an extra charge. Also, he charged extra for not only assembling the tires,
but disassembling as well. I had no time or patience to argue. I paid and was
on my way, grumbling as I tried to carry the four tires and two extra, slightly
worn treads.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I reached
the room around 10:40 and had no time to waste. I did my best to put the wheels
back on the wagon, flipped it right side up, and started to restock it with all
the stuff I'd set around the room. After much sweating and several spot checks,
I was out of the room at 11:05. Luckily the lady at the front desk didn't seem
to notice (or maybe didn't mind) my tardiness.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Thus, I
was on my way again.</div>
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At this
point, I was in St Cloud, an actual town, civilization. This was both exhilarating
and nerve wracking. I had been out in the boonies for a few days, where
everything was slow and expansive. Here, everything was compact and rushed. A
lot more car traffic, and a lot more places of business (especially more places
of business, since I'd just come from having none around). I had not walked far
before I made it to Narcoosee road, where I needed to turn right to go North,
to Orlando. The feeling was unparalleled. I was HERE. I thought it would be miles
and miles more before reaching this point, but I had almost made it here
yesterday. Had it not been for my complete wheel breakdown the day before I
would have made it. This was an amazing feeling, and I no longer cared about
all the crap I had just undergone. My pace slightly quickened, and I found
myself humming triumphant songs aloud as I walked.</div>
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This was
amazing. I thought I had been set back so much with all the obstacles I had
encountered, that I would be on this road for a long time to come. I turned to
go North, and the sun was now at my back, no longer burning just my left side.
I could almost feel the heat waves pushing me forward. Success. Triumph. North.</div>
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I walked
several miles, then stopped under the shade of a large tree in a grassy area,
and drew. I didn't feel much like reading, so I just drew, and was really happy
with what I was accomplishing. I walked a few more miles, and stopped for a
quick meal out of my pack, then drew some more. Greatness. Awesomeness.
Happiness.</div>
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I kept
walking into the afternoon and evening, and it was time to find a place to camp
out. Suddenly, it became increasingly obvious that this was not going to be as
simple as it had been out in the country. Out there I just had to find a place
far enough off the road so that I wouldn't get run over in the dark. It was
about finding a place out of sight so no one would get too curious and come
looking. Here, however, it was more compact with many, many more businesses and
residential areas. No woods, no hills to hide behind, no bridges to duck
around. I came up to a neighborhood that was under construction, and was very
tempted to sneak in there for the night, but past experiences in my life lead
me away from that decision. Too many early workers, too much heavy machinery,
too many cops patrolling, and too many other people who may be considering the
same thing I was. I pressed on.</div>
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I finally
came upon a fancy looking gated community with a golf course. I thought how
funny it would be to set up camp on the 18th hole. That's when I saw it. At the
entrance to the community was a large sign advertising their new homes, golf
course, and security. All around the sign were freshly shaped hedges, and a
wooden fence that spanned along the sidewalk I was on. Behind the sign,
however, there was no fence, no hedges, just grass. The opening led to a lake
that separated the road from golf course. I quickly drug the DragonWagon around
those bushes, and ducked behind them. This little nook was perfect. There were
chest high hedges on three sides of me blocking me from the road and the
entrance to the community, and on the other side was the large lake with the
golf course across from it, and there were big trees perfectly in line to block
the gate guard from view. I sat there for a while, apprehensive about pulling
anything out or setting anything up, since I'd just pulled in from a busy
intersection and was sure someone would report a suspicious looking character
pulling a wagon behind some bushes. After an hour of paranoia, I decided I was
okay. I continued to draw. After the second hour I pulled out just my sleeping
bag, since it was starting to get chilly, and I was in plain sight of the golf
course. Once the sun had finally set and the darkness took over, I decided it
was okay to set up my tent, and I slept under the stars, surrounded by bushes,
with a beautiful view of their lake and lit up fountain.</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Day 7<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b> </b>I kept waking up throughout
the night, nervous I would be found out in my ritzy camp site. By the time
5:30am rolled around, I decided to pack up and head out, to avoid the sunrise
exposing my location. The temperature was a lot colder a in the dark as I
walked up the side walk, and the wind was picking up quite a bit. I kept moving
at a brisk pace to keep the blood flowing and stay warm. I walked a few miles
up the road, sharing the sidewalk with all manner of runners and power walkers,
seeing groups of cyclists on the roads, until I came across my first McDonalds
that offered free wifi. Finally, I could communicate to friends that I was
alive and well. I pulled the DragonWagon off onto the grass by the sidewalk,
and dug out my laptop, taking all the stuff that was in the way and dumping it
around me. It must have been a confusing sight to see a guy who looked like a
hobo with his stuff strewn about the grassy area, on his laptop. Several of the
walkers and joggers who were going by gave me a range of confused looks, and
one almost ran into the guy running next to him because he did a double take
looking at me. Regardless, I sent messages to family, posted on Facebook, and
attempted to upload the blog I'd written at the motel. The winds picked up, and
the temperature noticeably dropped. Facebook worked fine, but I couldn't get
any other websites to open. It was getting colder. I checked a map long enough to
see I was roughly 15 miles from my friends' house I was heading to, which I
estimated would take me until the following day to reach. The cold got sharper,
so I gave up, packed it all up, and started moving to get the blood flowing
again. Sitting still for those few minutes didn't do me any favors.</div>
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The wind
was getting unbearable, and the sun was just breaking through the sky, but not
through the trees. It was still dark, and getting colder. I decided that
walking was not going to warm me up enough to make up for wearing a t-shirt and
shorts. I stopped to dig out warmer clothes. I didn't think I'd need them for a
long time into the journey, so they were buried accordingly. I had to pull out
a serious amount of obstacles to get to them. Being in such a populated area,
with cyclists, runners, and the like, I couldn't go change anywhere, so I just
slipped the pants over my shorts, and threw on a sweater. This was a bit of a
hint at what it could feel like in a winter situation, which was a cause for
worry and relief, simultaneously. I thought about how much colder it could get
and how I wasn't sure how well I would deal with it, but, on the other hand, it
was a welcome break from the dead heat.</div>
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Crossing under
the 417 before the sunrise was exhilarating. Finally a landmark I recognized!
Roads I knew! While it gave me a rush to know I'd made it this far, it also
took away from the experience of being out in the middle of nowhere, a place I
didn't know. I started to recognize what was about to come up, and it took away
the mystery of the adventure. It was a strange battle of feelings in my mind
over whether this was good or bad, but I kept moving. I walked and stopped to draw,
walked and stopped to eat then draw, walked and walked. I'd crossed under the
528, then crossed over the 408, and before I knew it, I'd reached East Colonial
SR50. I turned onto 50, hit Dean rd, and turned North again. This was it. I was
on the final stretch, and it was shorter than I imagined it.</div>
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<br />
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I reached
my friends' neighborhood by 5:30pm and was astonished at my accomplishment.
That meant I had walked about 15 miles over the span of 12 hours, totaling 75 miles in 7 days. That's
insane. I would've never imagined I could do that. I would have never known. I
might never have believed. Pulling my wagon along I saw their second floor
windows open, letting in the cool breeze that seemed so welcome to them, and I
yelled their names from outside. Their door burst open, and I finished my first
trek by hugging my dear friends.</div>
DragonWagonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10258103841458167822noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-221545659137877472.post-25609750685629392712014-11-01T23:40:00.000-07:002014-12-06T18:25:25.124-08:00Days 1-5<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">The Night Before</span><o:p></o:p></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
No sleep.
Maybe slept a max of one hour, but anxiety, nerves, excitement, reluctance, and
self doubt gripped me for most of the night. It felt like the best thing and
the worst thing to do all at the same time.</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
When I
was packing my belongings in my apartment a few months prior I had come across
an old notebook I had kept since I was in about middle school. It is one of
those zip-up notebooks that used to have the three rings on the inside to keep
notebook paper in, neatly organized. I had, a long time ago, done away with
said rings, and by now was packed to the rim with old pages from school. This
had been a collection of notes I had taken from middle school through college,
but, more specifically, the ones I had doodled on. </div>
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Since I
was young I had made a pact with each of my teachers (all in my own mind, of
course) that everything within the margins was their territory. I would write
the notes they beckoned, and put down the answers to their quizzes, but
everything outside the margins, where the three holes were, was MY territory.
This is where I let my imagination go when teachers rambled on about this or
that. This was where I spent the most ink. This is where I had my fun. If the
teachers weren't keeping my full attention, I was outside the margins, in
places where creatures that have never existed lived. This was my escape during
the long school hours I was made to attend. From time to time I fully
commandeered entire pages I deemed unnecessary for school use.</div>
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</div>
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I had not
looked in this notebook in years, only opening it to add another year's worth
of notes, quizzes, tests, worksheets, and handouts. So when I was about to put
it into a box, I opened it. It made me so happy that I won't waste time trying
to describe the feelings in words. It came as an affirmation, a nod from my
past selves, a hand shake from all of my selves from middle school to college
for having saved these. It had only been three years since I'd graduated from
college, but somewhere around 10-15 years worth of doodles lived here. It was
like sitting in those classrooms again, with those teachers in front of me. I
was reminded of great times, terrible experiences, and everything in between.
This notebook, to me, is priceless and definitive of who I am meant to be.</div>
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I spent
most of that night photographing many of those doodles. I hope to be brave
enough, one day, to share them. I hope that I can use them to thank those
teachers somehow, to show them that I (hopefully) was not just wasting time in
their classes, but becoming who I was meant to be. I hope that if anything
comes of these doodles, I can give back to education, to teachers. Their
patience with me must have been beyond infinite.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
By 5am I
was finally finished photographing them, and turned out the light. The last
time I remember looking at the clock it said 6:30am, and I was still wide
awake.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My alarm
went off at 10am, and it was time to get up and finish final preparations. I
had a wonderful salad lunch with my parents, before setting off by 2pm.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Thus the
adventure began...</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Day 1</span><o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I started
by calling this Day 0 since it was halfway through the day before I started,
but it quickly became too confusing to say "Day 0, Night 1," then,
"Day 1, Night 1- No wait, Night 2," and I am a simple man, so no time
for that nonsense.</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Last
minute preparations were underway as I packed the last of the stuff I was using
at my parents' house, taking my last shower, having my "last meal."
Both my parents were beyond supportive, they were amazing. Mum helped me
psychologically, preparing my mind with various questions and curiosities.
These were integral for my inner fortitude to begin my journey. Several things
she asked me about I had not quite thought through until I had to put them to
words, this prepared me. My dad, here on out referred to as Papi, helped me in
a more physical sense, in building my wagon (the DragonWagon), putting together
the load, and hooking up a solar panel and battery to keep my camera going.
Both of these aspects were essential, and without this balance, I may never
have begun. I cannot thank my parents enough for all they've done and do for
me.</div>
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So, Day 1
started at 2pm. Everything was packed and ready, everything was prepared. Mum
and Papi were there with me for the "launch." We said our goodbyes
since we weren't sure exactly when (and morbidly but unmentioned, if) we would
see each other again. I might've made it to the end of the road then turned
around and come right back. As I started the first few steps of the journey I
found myself feeling silly. Here I am with a funny hat, funny looking shoes,
camelbak, and a wagon strapped to my hip resembling some sort of ox, and I am
about to be seen in public. The wagon, stacked to chest height with an
assemblage of random necessities, had a solar panel on top making it look like
a Mars Rover catastrophe. I was suddenly and almost overwhelmingly embarrassed
as I passed the first of the neighboring houses, although no one else was there
to witness. I turned around as I continued walking to bravely wave at my
parents, who stood there side by side in a picturesque moment of love, and it
gave me courage. This is it. This is the beginning. I got to the end of the
block and as I turned the corner, realizing this was the first busy public
street, I stopped the wagon. I took a few steps backward so I could see my
parents' house again, and there they were, still watching. I took off my hat
and raised it to them in salute. They waved back. This gave me the last ounce
of strength I needed, I knew I was not going to quit.</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
It is an
awkward feeling to do something in public that is so far out of the norm. It
feels foreign and unfamiliar. Pulling my little wagon along the sidewalk felt
strange, but not as strange as the speed in which I got used to it. It took
much less time than I thought to "become one" with my wagon. I
wondered what I looked like to all the people driving by, their gazes following
me as they passed. My answer came quicker than I was ready for.</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Sheradon.
I think he said his name was Sheradon, maybe Sheldon. I had repeated
"Sheradon" back to him to make sure, and he said yes. Either it was a
miscommunication all around, or pity he gave me by not correcting me, or his
actual name. Less than an hour into my walk, only two or three miles away from
the house, I saw a car, that had driven past me, turn around. This PT Cruiser
stopped in a driveway on the other side of the road, and a teenage looking kid
got out. He crossed the road to my side, then went back to the car, then
crossed to my side again. He walked in my direction, on the same sidewalk,
while the car still sat there. I had just turned on my camera a couple of
minutes before to get some super exciting footage of my walking, but I am so
glad I did. This kid, dressed in his Sunday best, tie, long sleeved purple
button up shirt, clean black slacks, walked committedly towards me. He had a
paper bag in his hands. As we got close enough we said hello to each other, and
to my complete surprise he offered me his food, the paper bag. I'll have to
refer back to the video to see exactly how the encounter went down, because to
be completely honest I was taken absolutely by surprise. (Again, I am beginning
to sweat while I write this. This was a very special moment for me) I didn't
know how to react. I thanked him and said it wasn't necessary, but he insisted,
and gave me $5 as well, right out of his wallet. I thanked him, then he turned
away. I called back to him before he crossed the street, and asked his name. I
repeated it back to him to be sure I heard him right, told him mine and shook
his hand. I thanked the lady in the car, still waiting across the street, as
Sheradon got back in.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Less than
an hour into my journey I had been given a bag of nuggets and $5, but that was
not what I really received. What I actually received was kindness, hope.
Sheradon showed me a side of the world of strangers that I have rarely seen and
am not accustomed to. He saw a person dragging all of his belongings with him
on the road, decided he needed help, and helped. I cannot express how touched I
am by this. I thought, in a moment, that I should refuse his gesture, that I
didn't need it, but I didn't want that to be the reaction that this kind of
service deserved. I didn't want this kid to go home thinking "I'll never
try giving people anything again if they're just going to refuse it." I
hope he goes through life knowing that this is the right way of doing things,
that even little acts of kindness can be huge. This was huge. As I ate the
nuggets, continuing my walk, I felt a regret creeping up on me. I really, truly
wished I had given him something, anything in return. What could I have given?
It dawned on me. A drawing. A page out of my sketch book. A finished, original
piece. "Whoa buddy!" came the ever present negative voice in my head,
"what would he want with that shit? It's not worth anything, it's not
good, and he probably wouldn't want it anyways." I fight this voice on a
daily basis. This is the voice that kept me at my job for three years too long.
This is the voice I am working on muting. I wanted to give him a piece of me in
return, no matter the value of it, because it would have been better than
nothing.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This
moment, I felt, was extremely important, and very influential on my trip.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Before
having set off I had glanced on Google Maps to see where the first place was I
should stop and roughly what lay between Palm Bay and Orlando. A whole lot of
farms, nothing, farms, and a town. I decided then not to pour over the map for
long, and let the adventure be what it was going to be, other than deciding
where to make first camp. I had seen a canal on the map that crossed over US192,
and decided it wasn't too close or that far from I-95. Well outside the
outskirts of Palm Bay/Melbourne. I am amazed I made it. I thought for sure,
while looking at that map, that I would never walk 11 miles, but I did,
somehow. I walked for 5 or 6 hours straight, only stepping in for 5 minutes at
Mum's school, knowing she had an event, and to shake hands with her principle
whom I had spoken with about this journey. It was an attest to my power of will
and determination in my journey, even though every step I took was echoed by
the voice saying, "stop," and "go back." Every step.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My mother
drove out to meet me about a mile before I stopped. She couldn't help herself,
and I was glad for it. She drove out to make sure I was ok, to tell me how
proud she was, that she couldn't believe I was doing it, and, just maybe, to
give me a way out. I thanked her, hugged her, kissed her, and went on. This was
very important to me. I had to do this.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Night 1</span><o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
While I
was amazed I made my destination, I didn't make it there before sunset. I have
found the sun has been setting by about 7pm which means that I must have made
it there about 8pm, in darkness. I got to the bridge that crossed over the
canal, and my skin, which had been cooking under the sun for a better part of
the afternoon, was still sweaty but now freezing. I barely felt the cold since
my muscles were so warm, but I knew I had to get my tent up quick, and
stabilize my temperature, lest I get sick on day one. That would have been
embarrassing.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I decided
not to cross the bridge tonight since there was a seemingly perfect little spot
next to it to camp in. I was hidden from the cars by the concrete wall of the
bridge, and protected from them running me over in the dark by the metal
railing connected to the wall. There was a slight downhill from the road, so I
was well out of sight, and there was an electric pole I could set up next to.
Perfect.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Not
perfect. Far from perfect. Since it was dark, I had to use my flashlight to
see, and as soon as the light went on, mosquitoes from a mile radius were on
full alert. I was, after all, setting up next to a canal, AKA mosquito breeding
grounds. They COVERED me. I was swiping swarms from my ankles, that merely
relocated to my wrists, which then found my face, neck, and eventually got
desperate enough to bite through my clothes. I would smack my arm and kill only
the five slowest ones at a time. I had to pull the DragonWagon through the
grass on what suddenly seemed like a 90 degree slope, straight down. The wagon
rolled over four or five times, each time somehow getting exponentially
heavier. When trying to get smart, and turning it uphill to roll it upwards, it
rolled onto its back wheels (the heavier four gallon water jug being in the
back) popping relentless wheelie after wheelie, digging the rear deeper and
deeper into the grass and dirt. I finally got to my "perfect spot," exhausted
and drained of most of my blood (don't forget to keep imagining those
mosquitoes, because by this time they are getting worse. They have gotten a
taste and told their friends to join the party), but the wagon kept trying to
roll down hill or flip sideways. I jammed it up against one of the wires
keeping the electric column in tension, and began, finally, to set up the tent.
You have never seen such speed, blood and sweat flying in the night air. I was
extremely motivated to get this camp site up. Everything was backwards from how
I'd planned it, everything was turned around, but I didn't care. I couldn't
care, I didn't have enough blood to care. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Finally,
the tent was up, I threw in sleeping bag and other essentials, and I was in,
but I was not alone. As soon as I got in my tent I had to start clapping, but
not out of celebration. Every time my hand met, the impact killed 10-15
mosquitoes, and I wish I were exaggerating. So many of these bastards made it
inside that I spent the first 10 minutes trying to kill them all, and save what
little I had left in my veins. My tent was a graveyard. My ankles were
bloodied. I had not slept the night before, I was ready for sleep, but sleep
would not come too easily.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My
"perfect spot" had another down side, a more literal one. I had set
up my tent on a downhill, and it quickly taught me the frictionlessness (sure,
it's a word, let's move on) of my tent floor and sleeping bag materials. The
yoga mat was not much help. Every 5-10 minutes I had to wiggle my way back up
the tent, lest my feet burst through the opposite end. Not only that, but my
"perfect spot" was so close to the road that the cars were deafening,
and the trucks were surely on a straight path to run me over and kill me. Every
time a truck approached, I kid you not, I thought this was it, this was the
end. I would die in my silly little tent, with all the mosquitoes I'd killed,
under some trucker's tires, on some silly little adventure. The fear was
irrationally gripping due to my dazed and exhausted state. I did not sleep. I
did not rest. I was tested. It was a trying experience. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then the
voice set in.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"See, idiot? This was stupid. You never should have
done this. You should have stayed home. You never should have left. Why are you
doing this? This is dumb. Go home." </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Self
doubt is a powerful enemy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The real
craziness of the situation was settling into my mind as I tossed and turned and
slid and wiggled back up. I started thinking about all the reactions people had
to me telling them what I was doing, and they varied as much as there are
colors, but on this night I was focused on the negative side of the scale. I
saw the faces of people looking at me as if there was something broken in me,
the people who gave me blank stares, and the people who just didn't know what
to say. Everyone who had somehow given my water bucket of confidence a drip of
black doubt came to the surface. Then, I started thinking of those who
encouraged me, supported me, helped me, or just got completely excited about
what I was doing. All the people who said they wished they could go, the people
who said they wanted to know more, and the people who asked questions. They
were filters for my water bucket. They helped at night. Thank you.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Day 2</span><o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The
previous night had done its damage. My ankles and wrists were slightly swollen
and covered in dried blood where the mosquitoes had feasted. My clothes and
sleeping bag were wet from the morning dew and shotty work I'd done of covering
everything. The harness straps on my wagon had broken from all the rollovers it
had done. My will power was shaken, but not broken. I had anticipated the
straps might break, so I'd brought wire along to mend them. I just hadn't
thought that they would break on the first day. I patched them up after
breaking down the camp, and was ready to head out, but I was tired. There was
no way that I could've maintained the pace of the first day, walking 11 miles
for 6 hours. I managed to walk for two hours then took an hour break. </div>
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<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">
On my
breaks I read and drew on my break, and it gave me strength. I walked for
another 40 minutes. It obviously hadn't given me that much physical strength,
it must have been more psychological or metaphorical. I rested for two hours, I
read, I drew. I walked for another hour, and this was it for the day. It was
about 5pm and I was already setting up camp. I slept. I slept a beautiful sleep
until dawn, and I was rested.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I
noticed, eerily enough, that whenever I walked past a field of cows, no matter
what they were doing, they would all stop and stare at me. They would follow me
with their gaze until I was quite a distance away. Strange feeling.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
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<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Day 3</span><o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This day
was a good day. I picked up a good rhythm, walking one hour and resting two,
managing three walks per day. I roughly estimated it was about 3 miles each
walk, so it could have been 9 miles for the day. This made me feel good,
determined. I was feeling great about it all, until a worry started to fall
heavier and heavier on my mind... I was running low on water. I had had such
confidence with my 4 gallon water tank that I didn't worry about running out
before I needed to refill, but I hadn't come across anything other than vast
farm lands for the last couple of days. I couldn't be sure how far ahead the
next town was, since my map research only went as far as the canal, and
glancing over the farmlands. I didn't take studious notes of how many miles
between A and B, then B and C, with alternates D, E, and F. I had thought I'd
let the journey take care of itself. Once I had to start tipping the tank to
refill my camelbak I began thinking of alternatives. I could go into one of the
massive farmlands, hope there is a house, hope there are people in that house,
hope that they're willing to allow me some water. I could wave down a car and
ask them to give me a ride, but leave the DragonWagon behind? I could hide it,
or give the driver the water tank and some money, and hope they'd be willing to
do it, and not drive off with it... I could... I could... It was endless
guessing and second guessing, assuming and conjecturing, despairing and self
assuring.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I found
myself becoming a detective. I analyzed the trash on the ground as I walked by
it, gathering what clues I could. Other than busted tire treads and roadkill,
there were several items of McDonalds breakfast containers. "People don't
tend to hang on to those for long before eating them and throwing the trash out
the window. That shit's nasty when it's cold. It couldn't take them longer than
ten minutes to eat a McMuffin. That half eaten bagel still looks fresh, as do
these three well dispersed banana peels."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I hadn't
come across any cross roads the past couple of days, but today I crossed three.
They, however, were not paved roads, but gravel. This meant I was still in
farmland. No signs to speak of, and it was getting late. I would get an early
start in the morning, to try and beat the heat of the sun.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Day 4</span><o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After a
decent sleep I woke up early and set off. I was determined to get somewhere today.
I kept a brisk pace and charged forward. I looked for more clues. I found more
McDonalds trash, must be getting close. I saw another gravel crossroad. I
started to see what looked more like houses than barns, with smaller properties
that were less and less like farms. I came across another crossroad, and, yes,
this one was paved, but with no painted lines on it. I'm getting closer. The
house numbers were now plastered on mailboxes by the road, and they were
descending from the 9900's. Closer now. My first paved road WITH lines. Hope.
Finally, after another paved road with lines, and house numbers descending to
the 8000's, my very first "Reduce Speed Ahead" sign. I knew this was
it. I'd made it. A town.</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">
The town
of Holopaw seemed to consist of a Citgo gas station, where I managed to refill
my water and buy some more canned food, and a restaurant, called
"Restaurant." I found nothing else within eyesight of this
"town." The Citgo and the restaurant, called "Restaurant," were
on either side of a major intersection of 441 and 192. I rolled on over from
the gas station to the restaurant, which had a sign out on the road, reading,
"Restaurant. Holopaw Produce. Fresh Fruit & Vegetables." I was
very excited, since I hadn't had either since the trip started. I rolled to the
front door to find quaint little tables outside, one occupied by two ladies. I
greeted them as friendly as I could, trying somehow to not look like a stray
vagrant, uncoupled myself from my wagon, and started toward the door.</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
"Watcha
look'n fur, h'ny?" asked one of the ladies sitting outside. I mentioned
the sign saying fruits and vegetables, and that I hoped to get some. "Aw,
that's an awwld sign, h'ny, we don't sell that no mo'." I was slightly
amused and taken aback, and did my best to politely ask if they were open for
business. I might have offended one of them, or just ruined their pre-rush
smoke break, but they mentioned they had a menu inside on the table. I had a
delicious breakfast, the Holopaw Omelet, which would apparently "take a
minute, since it's gawt everth'n 'n th' kitchen." This was a well
appreciated meal, since all my previous ones had come from cans. I thanked
them, and asked them if there was anything on the road between here and St
Cloud. There apparently was, and it gave me hope. I set off again.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9d4dJrKZCmpEvzMcvlJVkMNnr5Dr1BmyxZjqc23ggbKMvR1z-JKbwY00-oCdOmniG9OCzJsOUCinYZoxwuuor2Yvm8s-yZTgDAhk1YeUl5Kr-jDSvzmV-Efmz18PHRKVYHAROjKqheKGb/s1600/IMG_7349.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9d4dJrKZCmpEvzMcvlJVkMNnr5Dr1BmyxZjqc23ggbKMvR1z-JKbwY00-oCdOmniG9OCzJsOUCinYZoxwuuor2Yvm8s-yZTgDAhk1YeUl5Kr-jDSvzmV-Efmz18PHRKVYHAROjKqheKGb/s1600/IMG_7349.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
The
DragonWagon was now refilled with water and food, and it showed. It lagged
behind me and made me realize how much easier it had been while I was dwindling
the water supply. I now had somewhat mixed feelings about filling it to the
rim. The sudden addition of weight must have taken its toll on the wheels,
because on my first break from walking I found one of the front wheels had worn
through the tread and was getting down to the threads, starting to fray. I
decided the only thing I could do right now was to rotate it to the other side,
and hope it lasted. I enjoyed the rest of my break, drawing and reading, then
set off again.</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Not long
after, I start to hear a "whirrr-whirrr-whirrr-whirrr" from one of
the wheels. I tried glancing behind me, not seeing anything, until I started to
feel the wagon really lagging, almost pulling me to a stop. This had suddenly
become a much harder pull than before, and it wasn't the water weight we'd put
on. I pull over and check the wheels, and there it was, staring me flat in the
face. One of my rear tires was completely deflated, and its ball bearings were
busted. The rim was scraping against the axel. I was dead in the water.</div>
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I'd
thought the wheels might eventually wear down, but I hadn't expected one to be
completely bald and the other to break down all together within the first 4
days. This was a brand new wagon bought especially for this trip. I turned the
wagon on its side and started disassembling the busted wheel. There was nothing
I could do, all the ball bearings were gone and lost, the piece that held them
together shredded. I was wheels up on the side of the road. I might have to
quit this trip. I might have to go back home. I figured I could flag someone
down and use their phone to get help, or try to find some tire place or
mechanic shop around, but I'd have to somehow hide the DragonWagon so no one
would pilfer it. Just as the possible solutions and gloomy ends were battling
it out in my head, a Sheriff pulls up.</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Well, at
least I would get to sleep in a cot, possibly get a decent meal. I wondered if,
when he arrested me, he would just leave my wagon out here, try to fit it in
his car to take with us, or just have some Sheriff van or truck come to take
it away. I dreaded the process of having to inventory the whole load as they
checked it in, and threw me in jail. I guessed this would make for a decent
story, something to laugh about when it was all over.</div>
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The
officer walked up to me and asked me if I was ok, so I told him I was, but that
I seemed to have broken down. I still had the wheel and multitool in hand, so
as not to seem threatening or be mistaken as a weapon, I set them both down on
the side-tipped wagon. He walked up to me and the DragonWagon and asked what I
was doing. I explained vaguely that I was walking to Orlando. He asked me,
"where you comin' from?" I said I'd been walking since Palm Bay.
"Shiiiit." I laughed at his reaction. "That's a helluva walk,
where you headin'?" I told him I had a few friends in Orlando willing to
put me up for a while, then maybe Ocala, and that I have a sister in
Philadelphia. "Aw, hell naw, you're not walkin' to Philly." I told
him it didn't seem like it at this point. I began asking him if there were any
tire shops or mechanics around. He didn't seem to think there were any, but he
offered to check for me and come back to let me know. At this point I was blown
away. How had I gone from thinking I was going to get arrested, to having a
Sherriff officer drive around town looking for a tire shop for me? This was
unreal.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The
officer asked for my ID, ran it, offered me water (had it been the day prior I
would've jumped on the offer), then came back with a ticket notebook. He
assured me this wasn't "a thing," he just had to report that he'd
seen me, and take my description. He asked for the usual, social, address, eye
color, tattoos, scars, if I was homeless, if I was in a gang, etc. Then he
started to write down what I was wearing, and as he looked down at my shoes he
asked, "what the hell are those?" For the entire trip thus far I'd
been wearing Adidas Adipures (sounds so fucking fancy), the shoes that cover
each toe individually. I explained to him how great they'd been so far, and
that they hadn't given me any blisters at all this whole trip (I really am
impressed by that), but that I had my army boots in the pack just in case these
broke down as well.</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Once he
had finished writing up his ticket, he took another look at my poor wagon. He
stared a little longer at the wheel I'd dismantled, then moved the multitool
I'd set on it to get a better look. "Y'know, I think I have these
wheels." I may have blurted out, "shut the fuck up." I asked him
what he would have had them for, and he mentioned he'd gotten them for his lawn
mower, but it had been too heavy for them. He started debating aloud, saying it
might just be easier to drive home and grab them, see if they fit, rather than driving around
for a mechanic shop. I expressed how grateful I would be, and off he went,
telling me to "sit tight." I couldn't believe it. He came back about
an hour later with two extra wheels that fit perfectly, and I was incredulous.
He dropped them off, said, "have fun, good luck," and drove off
before I could think of a better thank you. I replaced the busted wheel and the
fraying one with these two new ones, and marveled at the conditions of the
situation. This officer is the only person who had pulled over this whole trip
to see if I needed help, other than Sheradon, and just so happened to have an
exact match for my wheels. I really had to stop and think about that for a
while. Amazing. Thank you Sheriff McCue, I hope I read your name tag right.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFi0nyBMzC25rKRjseY1MqSUAeycp4Nr4ojnYpb75RUmplA5AR0QXiDixHNmY_LmbwaD-ZABBVCS2LTINjOtGefU44KGMaYqRzT9wHtlB5G8UOlMUFaYGV9VlOs_24XpFiC_MJjetAmy95/s1600/IMG_7351.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFi0nyBMzC25rKRjseY1MqSUAeycp4Nr4ojnYpb75RUmplA5AR0QXiDixHNmY_LmbwaD-ZABBVCS2LTINjOtGefU44KGMaYqRzT9wHtlB5G8UOlMUFaYGV9VlOs_24XpFiC_MJjetAmy95/s1600/IMG_7351.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
I
continued onward with renewed hope and fresh fervor. This had been a
challenging day, but it turned out for the best. I now had four tires rolling,
and two that I could mix and match parts with in case of an emergency, only I
didn't realize how quickly that emergency would come. Not long after replacing
wheels, only a few miles down the road, that dreaded
"whirrr-whirrr-whirrr-whirrr" returned along with the leg burning lag
of the wagon. There was no way. This was too soon. I look back to see it plain
as day, one of the new tires the officer had given me had lost all its air in
just a few miles. I did the best I could to haul the dead weight to a safe spot
where I could set up camp, work on switching it out in the morning. I was done
with this day. So I drew, well into the night.</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Day 5</span><o:p></o:p></b></div>
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I woke up
early, but refused to get out of bed. I kept looking at the wheels, which were
eye level with me laying in my tent, with pure resentment. I didn't want to get
out of bed, have to break down the camp, and change a tire, and hope the frayed
one would make it. I was tired and I hadn't slept well. I lay there, awake, for
an extra hour and a half before getting up. I broke down the camp, brushed my
teeth, had breakfast, read a little bit, drew a little bit, all in
procrastination and defiance of the wheel problem. Eventually I did it. Instead
of strapping the two torn up tires under the wagon like I had done the first
time, I strapped them on the top, maybe so the world could see their shame. I
was now back to having the frayed tire teetering on the brink of destruction. I
pressed forward.</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
On my
second walk of the day I passed by a Cozy Bear Cove Inn and Bar. It seemed
quaint, next to some grocery food store. I considered stopping in, but decided
against it, considering I had recently replenished, and I should press on to
hopefully find some tire place. I'd gone a little while past it, when, much to
no one's surprise, the frayed wheel went flat. That's right,
"whirrr-whirrr-whirrr-whirrr." I decided maybe it was a good idea to
go back to the Cozy Bear Cove Inn, see if they had any vacancies, and hopefully
someone would know where I could have a Viking burial for my damned tires, or
just a place I could get them fixed. It was not an easy haul. The DragonWagon
fought me the whole way. It fought me hard. I felt like I'd pulled it for miles
by the time I reached the inn again. The bartender was nice enough, but
couldn't offer me a room, they had no vacancy. She did, however, inform me that
there was a place just up the hill, past the Serpentarium called the Colonial Motel,
and that there may be a tire place next to it. Hope and dismay were swelling
inside me, fighting it out for territory. I set off again.</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
"Whirrr-whirrr-whirrr-whirrr-whirrr-whirrr-whirrr-whirrr-whirrr-whirrr-whirrr-whirrr"
It was getting harder and harder to pull this thing, I thought it damn near
impossible, until finally, the whole wagon rolled over onto its side. I thought
maybe I'd gotten too close to the shoulder of the road, where the flat tire
was, but as I came around to flip it back over, I found the nasty truth. The
back wheel on the same side must have taken too much stress from the front one
being flat, that it too had wasted through the tread, and had completely
deflated. I flipped that wagon over like a football player hitting a dummy sled,
somehow cutting my leg in the process without noticing. It was much heavier. I
got it back onto the road and pulled it with a vengeance until I reached the
motel.</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
I managed
to snag the last room, drug the wagon in, and immediately went for the bathroom.
Shit and shower were priority number one. I'd only gone once in the woods,
where I learned how not to dig my shit hole, and had had no shower the whole
trip. It was time. This was when I found out my leg was bloody and dry. I
assumed it must have been from when I flipped the cart. The adrenaline had been
flowing strongly.</div>
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I took my
time disassembling the tires, and checking their conditions. I had spotted the
tire place about a block or two away from the motel, so I strung up the wheels,
and set off. I managed to order a couple of full replacements, and a couple of
inner tubes, which should get me to Orlando. After that I'll have to figure out
an alternative method of load transportation.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXF5wZYnS6bmS-tX_YHK9LqghtvkXRCoZwVZ-_k984DYoyE9Xviq1KvG1LZCf8PLvMD0SG-y4ZCZFRqYtL7l04-NTXMsWXhtBxI9vFnDbsBA5yx3S4qKHL7m2-ic2x5ImdETcWwh0wsK1c/s1600/IMG_7368.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXF5wZYnS6bmS-tX_YHK9LqghtvkXRCoZwVZ-_k984DYoyE9Xviq1KvG1LZCf8PLvMD0SG-y4ZCZFRqYtL7l04-NTXMsWXhtBxI9vFnDbsBA5yx3S4qKHL7m2-ic2x5ImdETcWwh0wsK1c/s1600/IMG_7368.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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I walked
back to the Cozy Bear Cove Inn and Bar, and ordered a couple of beers and a
hearty meal. It tasted like undaunted success. I made friendly conversation
with the bartender and a couple of patrons, and had a few laughs. Once I was
finished I put in a call from the bar phone to my parents, and left them a message
saying that I was alive, about where I was, and what had happened to my wheels.
I'd also said that I wouldn't be reachable at this number, and that the motel
had no phone. After that I came back to the room, and started writing this
whole mess down.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My
parents, however, being the concerned and loving people they are, employed
their detective skills to finding me. They had called the number back, spoke
with the bartender who happened to know where I was staying from our
conversation, drove over to the motel, found out what room I was staying in,
and treated me with a surprising rat-tat-tat on my door. I was completely
surprised and overjoyed. I explained my whole ordeal to them, and my solutions.
They explained their whole process of finding me. Apparently the bartender knew
exactly to whom they were referring over the phone "Aw, you mean the
walker?"</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Mum and
Papi offered to take me home to fix the DragonWagon, but, though I was tempted,
I declined. I want to finish this trek to Orlando, then reevaluate the wagon. I
have come about 50 miles on foot, and have about 20 more to go. I am almost
finished with my first goal, and I can't quit now. </div>
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DragonWagonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10258103841458167822noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-221545659137877472.post-15419375716841401332014-10-23T22:52:00.000-07:002014-10-23T23:28:09.337-07:00About This BlogEnough people have told me to start some sort of journal about my journey. I don't write much, but I figured I'd give it a shot. Not sure what to write about, but my mother's said to me when I don't know what to write about, write that down and go from there.<br />
<br />
So I don't know what to write about, and that worries me sometimes. I wonder what's so great about what's going on in my brain that I should put it into written words. What great thoughts do I have that I could share with the world? What can be so great that someone would take the time to read?<br />
<br />
As I write these questions down I am breaking out in a sweat. I'm not sure why I get so nervous about this. I used to feel confident in school when writing papers, because I felt I was good at them. I was good at putting together decent essays and research papers about crap I really didn't care about. I also never did much creative writing, or any writing about myself or my thoughts. So this is new. This is different. This is me, in words. I'm not sure how I like myself in words.<br />
<br />
I don't feel like I belong. It's a weird thought to think, but it's a feeling that never really goes away. I am sometimes distracted enough by what's happening around me that I forget I feel that way, but the feeling always seems to come back.<br />
<br />
But let's not write about that yet.<br />
<br />
Let's write about why I'm doing something that may seem crazy.<br />
<br />
Okay, let's do that.<br />
<br />
<br />
So, I am doing something that may seem crazy: I am walking. I am going on a walk, into the world. I have gotten rid of my job, my apartment, my car, my cellphone, and a lot of my material belongings, and I'm going to walk outside for a while. I guess that may seem crazy, and maybe it is, but I have to do this. I have to shed myself of the fat, start at zero, and see what grows from it. I am, almost irritatingly, aware that this may ruin my future, but I can't know what that future is, so I don't know what it would've been. That means I am building it still, and it can be anything.<br />
<br />
Why do this? That's an excellent question, and one not easily answered.<br />
<br />
Short answer:<br />
-I need to. I must.<br />
<br />
Long answer:<br />
-I wasn't happy doing what I was doing, even though I felt I was doing it right.<br />
-All too often I wondered if my job was the right one for me.<br />
-Despite my success at work, working didn't feel right.<br />
-So many days I've felt like my options were narrowing.<br />
-I felt a crippling, overwhelming, and ominous fear that my life would become too monotonous to bear.<br />
-Too many times I found myself feeling depressed that I was cooped up in my home, missing out on experiences I could not imagine.<br />
-I wanted to meet new people.<br />
-I needed to see new places.<br />
-I felt the necessity of breaking out of my introverted tendencies, and force myself out.<br />
-I was too comfortable with my conditions.<br />
-I needed less financial responsibilities.<br />
-I wanted to draw more.<br />
-I wanted to be involved in more theatre.<br />
-I wanted to play the violin again.<br />
-I wanted adventure.<br />
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Something is driving me to do this that is harder to explain. The thought I get everyday that "this is not it" hasn't left me alone. I have been in school, and done it well, but that wasn't for me. I have been in the military, and done that well, but that wasn't right for me. I have held a job, and succeeded at it, but that wasn't it for me. So what then? What should I be doing? Why do I have such an aversion to the systems everyone around me seems to adhere to so easily? What is it about me that knows I can conform, but don't want to? Why do I feel like I'm playing some part in a play I can't read the script to?<br />
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One major reason for this move is that I've always loved drawing and acting, but I never thought I could maintain my standard of living if I pursued one or both of them. I looked at my bills and imagined how far into debt I would go if I suddenly decided to pursue my hobbies as careers, so I would immediately dismiss the idea.<br />
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I found myself in a self generating cycle:<br />
-I worked to live in a place I lived in to work.<br />
-I worked for a car that I needed to get to work with.<br />
-I was too tired to do the things I love, because I worked too hard and too much.<br />
-The more money I made, the more I spent it, the more I needed it, the more I had to work.<br />
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I started seeing my financial obligations as the big obstacle in doing what I wanted. I saw my job as a necessity to maintain those obligations at bay. I was paralyzed by the idea that I wouldn't experience instantly gratifying success in becoming some sort of artist, and I would slowly, painfully have to part with everything I had built up to maintain my standard of living. So, logically, I came to the conclusion that it would be better for the band aid to be ripped all at once. Become homeless now so you won't suffer through the process. Get rid of all the things you think you will lose by taking this leap.<br />
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Think you'll become homeless? Ha! Be homeless already, and you'll have nothing to worry about! All you can do is improve your situation! Think you won't be able to pay your bills? Get rid of them! You don't NEED your car, it's a convenience. You don't NEED your home, it's a comfort. These are all standards and conditions I have become accustomed to, because I've always had them, thanks to my parents' hard work and, more recently, my own. It's easy to think sometimes that there is no other way of living, but we are human beings, and human beings are animals and animals live in this world, not secluded from it.<br />
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So maybe I'm crazy. Maybe I've lost my sound mind. Maybe this won't be for me. Maybe I should have stayed, doing what I was doing, day in and day out. Maybe I shouldn't have quit or moved out. Maybe I should have kept my phone and my car, but I don't regret it, at least not yet.<br />
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Maybe I will regret all of this. Maybe I will go out for a day or two and realize what an idiot I am for having gotten myself into this situation. Maybe sooner than later I'll be back to working at some job, living in some apartment, and leading the same kind of life, but I'll have tried. If I try and fail, I'll have won, because I tried. Even if I don't make it a week, I tried it. The thought of coming this close and not actually doing it seems a more regretful decision than trying it and finding it doesn't work. Then I can ask myself, "See? That was stupid, wasn't it?" and I can confidently answer myself, "Not stupid, necessary."<br />
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It's time to trim the fat. It's time to start from nothing. It's time to not have what I thought I should, and find out what I truly need. It's time to see what happens if I put as much work into what I love as I have into what I thought was necessary. It's time to go out into the world and see it for what it is, at least through my eyes. I'm tired of relying on others to tell me what it is. I need to make my own observations, and come to my own conclusions. That's what I'm going to write about. That's what this blog is going to be. I will write down what I observe and conclude through my experiences. That's who I'm going to be in words.DragonWagonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10258103841458167822noreply@blogger.com15Palm Bay, FL, USA28.0344621 -80.58866460000001627.8101146 -80.911388100000011 28.2588096 -80.26594110000002