Rocks, hot springs, and a tin full of cookies

The next part of my story will be a bit more vague than its counterparts; at the requests of many of the people I’m about to write about, most of the names and many of the details will be omitted.  All of the names with a “*” in them are fabricated. 

                  After lugging my pack into the backseat and sitting down in the passenger seat, Melanie*, the driver, asked, “so where are you headed?”  “I don’t know,” I told her honestly.  “Well, I’m going to some hot springs and then to Tuscon for a gem show,” she told me, “want to come?”  “Sure.”  And we were off.  A ride like this couldn’t have come at a better time, because after my brief encounter with LA, I really didn’t know where I wanted to go.  So there I was, cruising in this enormous converted van to some hot springs south of Flagstaff.  I had suggested to Melanie that we hit up Red Rock country in Sedona, it being right on the way, and she agreed that it would be a great idea.  So, after reaching flagstaff, we headed on scenic route 89A to check out the Red Rocks. 

                  Melanie is a member of the Rainbow Clan/tribe, a group who, along with loving the Grateful Dead and faithfully going to most shows that the remaining members hold around the nation, are synonymous with peace, love, sharing, kindness, equality, eco-friendliness, and things of the type.  This is good for me, because not only does she have pure cane sugar and good coffee (two things I haven’t seen since I was in Italy) but it exposes me to a scene that I’ve wanted to see pretty much since I started listening to the Grateful Dead (what is it with them, right?)  I love talking with her, about her views, experiences, musical tastes, most everything.  We stopped at several spots along the way through Red Rock country to take some pictures and let her dog out for a walk, and she pointed out a cave up in the canyon.  “Wow, look at that, I’m sure the natives used to live up there, I can just feel their energy.”  For most of the ride up, Melanie had talked a lot about Native culture (to which she felt very connected to, apparently due to some Native American lineage that was in her heritage), the “Great Spirit,” “One love,” and a lot of discussion on reincarnation, and several religions, in fact most religions, except for Christianity and Islam. 

                  We eventually make our way to the Camp Verde hot springs, sometime in the night.  To get there, we had to ask at least 3 locals, and wind our way up and down more than 20 miles of bumpy dirt road.  To get to the hot springs themselves, according to the book that Melanie carries with her (a guide to hot springs in the southwest) we still have to hike a little over a mile and cross the river, so we decide to wait until the morning to see them.  

                  In the morning, we made friends with our neighbor Tracy, a girl also doing the Van thing, who was visiting the hotsprings to relax from her job in Las Vegas.  With tracy’s help, we make some hot coffee and have some delicious breakfast.  After eating, and some good conversation, we decided it was high time to head up to the springs.   The trail up was beautiful, a well-trodden dirt trail that led across scraggly rocks and some weeds along the river.  The sky was clear and blue, and the sun shined kindly on us we walked along the narrow trail admiring the prickly pairs and other desert foliage, which was plentiful along the way.  We hadn’t noticed it on the way in because of the darkness, but now that we walked along the river, we had a clear view of the mountains and canyons in the distance, and it was beautiful.  We crossed the frigid (but fortunately small) river and walked another few hundred yards before finally reaching the hot springs. 

                  The pools now used at camp verde were shaped in 1922 when a hotel was built, and cement foundations built to shape the hotsprings.  In 1962 (at least that’s what I remember being painted on the walls) the hotel burned down, leaving only the foundation.  The springs now are now well colored, mostly art and messages, covering the inner walls of the hotter pool and on the pylons remaining from the foundation.   As we laid down our things preparing to get into the water, a hiker walked through, with an enormous pack on his back and a guitar in his hand.  He had sunbleached blonde hair and beard, and was wearing aviator-style sunglasses.  David, our new friend’s name, had already spent a lot of time at the springs earlier in his stay, and was walking back to camp, thirsty from hours of hiking in the hot sun (by now it was well into the afternoon).  David, like Melanie and Tracy, was the owner of a van that he had converted into his home.  David sat and talked with us for awhile, and was kind enough to let another visitor to the springs and myself play his guitar for a bit, which was wonderful, considering that I hadn’t had a chance to play one since Phoenix.  After about an hour or so of conversation, David went back to camp, and we decided to soak in the hot springs. 

                  It was absolutely delightful.  Relaxing in the hot water, sitting in the shade, admiring the beautiful views.  What an afternoon.  After a little while, a group of three ladies came.  Sharon, Kelsey, and Reina were Flagstaff natives who had come to camp verde for a day trip, get out and take it easy before returning to the humdrum of the working/studying life the following day.  They were really cool, and happened to bring food with them!   We (mostly me) happily munched on munchies and shared travel stories, lounging in the hot water for awhile, when one of the girls decided that they would jump off of the cement platform.  Initially, I wanted no part in this.  The fall down looked to be around 12 feet, and I had almost no confidence in the river’s depth.  Not wanting to die, I let them jump in first (you know, so I could rescue them if anything happened).  Shortly after the shouts of thrill upon falling into the water, came yells of how cold the water was: “WOOOOHOOOOOO….splash, 2 seconds later….SHIT, this is SO COLD!!!! AHHH!!!!”  The cries didn’t help much on my decision to jump in, but eventually I decided to say fuck it.  We only live once, might as well do it freezing our asses off jumping into rivers.  I made the plunge, and after the fall (which was just as long as it looked from above) was immediately shocked by the water temperature.  My body was simply telling me, “ok, playtime’s up, now GET OUT!!! Hurry!” and I scrambled up the rocks lining the river as fast as I could, and slipped back in the warming pools.  My friends repeated the act, but I decided I was just fine where I was.  Their continued shrieks told me that I had made the right decision. 

                  Eventually, our friends made their way back to camp so that they could get back to Flagstaff in time, and we decided to head back as well.  At camp, we met back up with David, and cooked some food (Tracy had a nice camp stove with two burners).  We pass the evening hanging out at different vans, eating and drinking, and at maybe around midnight, the others decide that it’s a good idea to go back to the hot springs, and see the view from under the moonlight.  I’m quite tired at this point, starting to doze off in fact, but I go with them anyway.  What a good idea it was.

                  Once we were out of range of electronic light sources, the moon brilliantly lit up the landscape, putting a blue glow on everything.  It was magical.  If the night air and the walk didn’t wake me up, crossing the frigid river again definitely did the trick.  Something about making the hike in the middle of the moonlit night, and relaxing in the water under the wide desert sky brilliantly full of stars, it was just enchanting, and gave the whole experience a deeper, almost sacred tone to it.  Sometimes we’d talk, and other’s we would just quietly admire the mountains, the sky and the moon.  What a night.  We started our walk back just as the early signs of dawn were showing in the far-off mountains. 

                  By the time we reached camp, the sun had already risen, and although the others were considering staying up (Tracy had gotten a flat tire on the way down when she first arrived to the campsite, and they were discussing making a trip into town to get a real tire to replace the spare she was now using) I was quite tired, and decided to lay down. 

                  I awoke a seemingly short time later, with the sun in my face.  I was still a bit groggy, and didn’t want to wake up fully yet, but decided I might as well.  Thinking I had only slept for 30 minutes or so, I walked over to Tracy’s van to find the others seated and drinking coffee (that always seemed to be happening).  I asked for the time, and found that it was almost 3 o’clock!  Thinking I had taken a short nap, I had actually slept for over 6 hours!  I was also fortunate enough to discover that Tracy was making banana nut pancakes, and in a few minutes was happily filling my stomach.  At around 5, just before the tire store in town closed, we ran Tracy up to town to get a new tire, and dropped her off at the beginning of the dirt road that lead back to camp, and Melanie and I continued on towards Tucson. 

                  We reached Tucson late that night, and Melanie found a place for free camping outside city limits that she had remembered from her last stay in the city.  In just a few minutes, we were both fast asleep.  The morning after was frigid (as they usually are in the desert) and after waking up, we drove into town so Melanie could get some coffee and we could check out the gem show. 

                  The Gem Show in itself, to my eyes, was a boring, uninteresting thing.  Everyone there is talking about the energy that these rocks have, marveling at rutillations, amethyst geodes, huge quartz crystals, and other things of the type, and all day I hear things like “what better way to spend a day than looking at rocks?”  I trail behind Melanie, gazing mindlessly at rocks that I don’t give about, smile, pretend I understand what these people are saying.  As far as I’m concerned, all this is a useless bunch of garbage.  Shiny garbage, perhaps, but still garbage that doesn’t serve me in any imaginable way.  I guess that’s my biggest beef with all this, is that for me to like something, it has to do something for me.  A guitar I can play, evoke feelings, make vibrations, music, create a very alive energy.  A rock is something that you can look at, maybe wear, and for what? What does it do?  Anyway, the interesting part of the show for me was the people.  The whole place was crawling with wingnuts, hippies, and generally eccentric beings, and I made a lot of very interesting friends.  Some of these included Khalila, whom I met while sitting on a curb making a bracelet, a girl who did (incredibly beautiful and creative) paintings and crafts, and had come to the gem show after spending some time in Sedona, Micah, a kid a bit older than me with a head full of dreadlocks who was headed to Florida (he offered me a ride there), Rob, a friend of Melanie’s, and many, many others.  On Sunday night, the night after the last day of the gem show, Melanie and I went to a house where some other members of the rainbow clan were staying; there was supposed to be a fire/gathering, and Melanie and I were planning on spending the night there. 

                  The fire ended up being a really good time, I met a lot of really cool people, and I think it gave me a lot of insight on the whole “Rainbow clan” thing, something which I’ve wanted to see pretty much since I started listening to the Grateful Dead (not specifically rainbow, but that scene).  The following morning, we left to head toward Silver City;  there were some hot springs there that we wanted to hit up before the group (the van now had two more passengers, friends of Melanie that were going to the Phil Esh show in Denver) went to Denver, and I went south.  By this time I was starting to feel a little cramped in melanie’s van.  She had an awful lot of rules to play by, and the fact that the other’s didn’t know those rules, pissing her off infinitely, definitely didn’t make things any better.  The morning after we arrived at the Gila hot springs campsite was one of the worst outbreaks;  Melanie thought that she had left her coffee maker at the house where we stayed the night before, was ranting about the kids from the night before using lots of her sugar (which she had also set out the night before for people to make coffee), our friend Tim*’s “negativity” (he had said it was cold out when we woke up) and an apparently somewhat large sum of money that was accounted for.  While the others went to go get some coffee from a store they had found near the camp, I stayed and finished reading a book my aunt had given me back in Georgia, glad to be by myself. 

                  An hour or so later, they came back in much better spirits (having now had their daily doses of coffee)  That day we mostly just lounged around, going in and out of the springs, enjoying the view, and relaxing, which was nice, as I hadn’t had quality, laid back outdoor time in quite awhile.  Not having to worry about where you’ll sleep, where you’ll get the next ride from, and what you’ll eat really makes a difference. 

                  We spent one more day at the springs and met our neighbors Violet and Theo, a very nice couple who was also living out of a converted van.  Theo and I hit it off really well.  Theo had been two quite a few places, and knew his way around the block when it came to outdoor resourcefulness.  In our discussion, we discovered that each of us had what the other needed:  Theo was a sandal fanatic, and had long since worn through his pair of Merrell’s (my friend Kevin from phoenix had given me a nearly brand new pair of Teva Sandals).  He had a quite nice pair of Merrell’s shoes, but really didn’t like wearing shoes at all.  I was looking for a good serve-all pair of shoes, one that I could use in any situation, be it walking for miles on the road, or tramping through muddy fields and trails.  Before my trip, I had bought a pair of (what I thought to be) standard issue jungle boots.  The turned out to be complete shit, and after just two days of solid use, the rubber sole was starting to peel off the leather.  I had my Nike’s, which had served me quite well both in Europe and here, but I was looking something of a little higher quality, that would allow me to walk 10 miles in a stretch comfortably (I could do this in the nike’s, but it kicked my ass in doing so).  Could we make a trade, my sandals for Theo’s Merrell’s?  I tried on his Merrell’s, but they were too small.  Damn.  Still, seeing that the sandals would be put to much better use on Theo’s feet, I decided that we could work something out.  For the cost that it would take to send back a package home (I was planning on going to phoenix to buy a good pair of shoes, mail back the other two as well as some extra stuff) I would sell Theo my sandals.  Later that day we left, and headed for silver city, so the group could get some more groceries before Denver.  It was here that I decided that my ride with them was done, and it was time to go my own way again.  After saying goodbyes, I walked out, and began the walk through town.

                  AT LAST!! I was free again, just the road and I!  Such a wonderful feeling, one that will definitely keep me traveling for a long time.  I began making my way towards the university, as Theo had said that there there were computers that the public could use for free, from opening to closing, and I needed to catch up my blog; a lot had happened in the past 9 days.  After walking for a few hundred meters with my thumb out, a girl with dreadlocks approached me from a nearby gas station.  “Hey, do you need a ride?”  I sure did, I told her.  “Cool.  I’m a hitchhiker too, but I have a van now.”  Excellent!  Those were pretty much the best words any hitchhiker could hear.  As we were walking to the van, I met her partner, David.  Katie and David had been passing in and out of Silver City (where we were) for years, so they had a lot of helpful information (where to sleep, where the mission was, good places to hang out, etc.)  They dropped me off at the college library, and gave me their number before they left.  “Hit us up if you’re still in town in the morning, we can play some music or something!” they told me, and off they were.  After catching up what I could (it was a lot of writing to do) the library closed at 8:45, and I decided that rather than leave town then, I would stay, and hang out with David and Katie in the morning.  I found a place to sleep in an unlit corner behind a gas station that was out of view, and went to sleep.  The night was cold (26 degrees, according to the All-state insurance sign).  My sleeping bag being rated down to 40 degrees, I was quite cold.  I had remembered a conversation I had with a gentleman back in Tucson about using a garbage bag instead of a sleeping bag.  I didn’t have a garbage bag big enough to cover my whole body, but did have one that could cover my feet up to my shins.  I figured this was better than nothing, and tried it out.  It did seem to help, and just to add extra insulation, I sacrificed my pillow (my rain coat) and stuffed it between my feet.  This seemed to do the trick and I slept comfortably. 

                  I awoke before dawn, and after finishing up the last of my writing at the library, found David and Katie outside of the Javalina coffee shop, where they had said they usually hung out in the mornings.  After an hour or so of sitting and talking, I foresaw the exact same thing happening (sitting and talking) for the rest of the day.  Not interested in this, as I wanted to reach Phoenix by the end of the day or the following morning, I said my goodbyes and was on the road. 

                  I walked for a mile or so along Hwy 90W when a burgundy Volkswagon pulled up.  Inside the backseat (the front was full of tanks of propane) were two crazy dogs, and a puddle of piss.  I told the driver that I’d just go around and sit on the other side.  Scott took me about 10 miles down the road, and I was glad to be Out There (away from towns or people, and out on the open road) again.  As I was walking, I noticed a pretty large, dark storm forming a few miles in front of me.  Shit.  It was pretty chilly out, maybe in the 40s and quite windy, and I really hoped that I wouldn’t get rained on.  The storm didn’t seem to be directly approaching me, but rather sort of alongside me.  I walked for several more miles before a pickup truck picked me up.  Off in the distance, I saw the darkness in the sky growing nearer.  As I looked closer into the sky, I noticed something that I remembered seeing online (thank you stumbleupon.com).  The clouds seemed to be forming into sort of little balls, protruding from the dark cover directly above them.  Could this be the rare Mammatus cloud formation I had seen on the internet?  I’d like to think so, but I’ll leave that up to you professionals (I took several pictures that I’ll post for you to see).  They dropped me off near Lordsburg, where Highway 70 veered west in a straighter path towards Phoenix; this was the route that I wanted to take rather than go by the interstate and have to go through Tucson again.  After walking a decent ways down 70 with no luck, I remembered what David had told me (“I dunno man, I’ve heard a lot of horror stories [meaning no rides for days] about 70…) and turned around, deciding that it was, in fact, a better decision to go by the interstate, as I had no interest in walking for days, especially in this weather and altitude. 

                  After walking for a mile or so back towards lordsburg, a big white chevy pickup truck finally pulled over.  When I told the driver I was headed towards phoenix, he replied, “well, I can take you as far as Tucson.”  Excellent!  Frank, the driver, was a really cool guy, and had lots of questions about my trip (where did you sleep last night?” “What do you do for food?”).   After telling him that my breakfast this morning had been a handful of trail mix, Frank said, “Hey man, look in the back for the box under than big one right there (motioning towards the backseat)” I looked, and pulled out a cookie tin.  “No, no that’s not what I’m talking about, but you can have that.”  I looked a little more, and found an enormous summer sausage (3 Lbs, to be exact).  “Yeah!  That’s it.  I want you to have that, man.”  I thanked him profusely, a tin full of sugar cookies and a giant summer sausage, this had to be some of the most interesting food-bag food yet!  After telling him that I was going to Phoenix to visit a friend so I could get some new shoes and take a shower (It was the 16^th, and I hadn’t bathed since the 5^th) Frank said, “Well, I tell you what man.  You’re welcome to spend tonight at my house, take a shower and wash some of your clothes.  You might even get a free dinner out of it!”  It was about 4:30, and I knew that if I had him drop me off, I would probably be able to get a ride to phoenix before dark.  Still, the offer was too tempting, and I had to accept it. 

                  Frank’s house was beautiful, and his family was very nice.  I played some harmonica for them, and we had Chinese for dinner.  As much as hanging out with my Rainbow friends was nice, it was great to see the “straight” side of society again, and have a clean body and clothes again.  Frank still didn’t understand how I could sleep on the ground most nights (“I dunno man, I like knowing I have a bed to sleep in every night”) but overall, I think he enjoyed my company.  Early the next morning, he woke me up to and dropped me off on the way to taking his son to school.  I waited at the on-ramp for a half hour or so, and after having no luck, I decided I would walk a mile or so on down to the next one; seeing some restaurants and gas stations in that direction, I decided I would have a better chance of getting a ride there.  Also, I hadn’t had time to eat or take my morning piss, so I figured I could work that out before hitchhiking out.  After using Waffle House’s facilities and waiting just 20 minutes or so, a blue corvette hauling a trailer pulled off to the shoulder.  “I’m not sure how you’ll be able to fit,” the driver told me, but I explained to him that I could sit with my pack, if he could find room for all the stuff in the front seat.  We shoved all of the other stuff into the trunk of the car, and I squeezed myself into the ‘vette’s tiny front seat, with my pack on my lap.  Mark, the driver, was a very eccentric man who was on his way to San Francisco.  He seemed to be on top of life, having a positive, pushing energy about him, and I enjoyed his company.  Also, it was just marvelous to hear that big V-8 engine pur when we passed cars (which happened a lot, Mark had a small case of road rage, which only amused me more).  It’s times like these when I’m glad to be a hitchhiker, squeezed into the front seat of a corvette, listening to the driver yell “Common lady, GiddyUP!  Gotta MOVE!” to the car in front of him.  Mark asked me, “Hey man, you sure you don’t want to go to San Francisco? I could really use the company!”  Tempting though it was, I was on a mission for new shoes, and was looking forward to seeing my friend Kevin again, and I had to decline.  He dropped me off in Avondale, the neighborhood where Kevin lives, and was off. 

                  After several calls to Kevin to confirm where I could meet up with him and a solid bit of walking, he finally picked me up on Thomas road, several city blocks from where Mark had dropped me off.  We shook hands and greeted each other, and it was good to see a friend again.  We went to Chinese for lunch (which was delicious, I still hadn’t eaten anything yet that day) and after meeting up with Kevin’s friend Steve, we went to Cabela’s so that I could find a good, new pair of shoes.  I ended up getting a pair of Keen’s (Kevin was a big Keen’s fan, and convinced me that it was a pair of shoes I wouldn’t regret buying).  That night, we went to dinner at an Italian restaurant where Kevin’s son worked.  That was the 17^th of February, and today is the afternoon of the 20^th, the last few days I have been relaxing, playing guitar, walking in my new shoes, and writing this very piece.  On Tuesday, after mailing home some extra weight I’ve been carrying around, I’ll head south towards Yuma to cross the border into Mexico, a destination that I have long awaited.  So, until next time, readers.