Gunslinger

I sat quietly in the dark between the fire and the darkness, my hands pressed firmly against my brow as I tried my best to remain collected while I listened to shots ring out in the deep woods of Rifle Canyon. As the staunch adrenaline started to wear off I was caught with my jaw dropped and the only thought going through my head was "how the hell did I wind up here with these people"? I am more or less a pacifist and don't really get people so full of aggression that they need to physically need to lash out at another. I don't mean to proclaim my own sainthood; as much as I would love to think if I were punched I would calmly get up and talk some reason into my aggressor, I know that I would in fact swing back like The Babe. However, the situation that I found myself in was a sobering reminder of how empowering a gun can be, and how little I support their use in a confrontation.

In late June I found myself at a joint bachelor party for two grooms preparing for their respective weddings. I had never met either of the grooms before, and they were accompanied by a group of guys as tight as brothers. I was the odd man out and it was obvious. The bachelor party was a camping trip to rock climb in Rifle Canyon and I was invited by a friend that I had been staying with, this was a sort of the last hoo-raw of my visit. He was living in Grand Junction, Colorado in the desert just next to Utah. Scott was the first friend that I stayed with on my 10 week trip across the US, and he had all sorts of adventures planned out for us. We embarked on a windless sailing trip, a moonlight climb up a 450 foot spire, a trip to the family cabin, birthday parties, beer, and it all ended with the bachelor party. As tight as all the guys were I was pleasantly surprised with how openly they accepted me.

My friend Scott had talked up my climbing skills, which are mediocre at best, to the guys before we arrived and there were some big expectations. To my surprise I was one of the more experienced climbers there and this is how I found my spot in the group. The guys were not of my breed. Simply, I am sort of an outdoorsy hippy, and these guys were, for lack of a better term, rednecks. We climbed for a few hours in the afternoon and when it started to get dark we packed up and went to camp.

When we got there there were already a few guys who got a head start on the drinking and had constructed an inferno out of Coors boxes and fresh-cut wood. Throughout the night fireworks were continually thrown in and we were causing quite a ruckus. Not one to ever pass up a good time, I cracked a cold one and joined the party. A young man, the younger brother of one of the grooms-to-be, was completely obsessed with flaming Dr. Peppers, which actually contain no Dr. Pepper. Flaming Dr. Peppers are just a concoction or amaretto, 151 proof rum, and

budlight. You fill a shot-glass half with amaretto and carefully pouring the 151 on top as not to have the two mix. With the 151 resting atop of the amaretto it ignites like Michael Jacksons hair, and you drop the flaming shot into a glass of bud-light and subsequently chug... chug... chug. Use caution, YouTube can show you plenty of examples of how this can go wrong, you can

see any number of fratboys setting their goatees aflame. He was yelling at everyone "hey, you wanna flamin' durka durka"? His excitement at the drink of course enticed my curiosity and when the combination is set aflame and combined in proper order, it surprisingly does taste like a Dr. Pepper.

The night was going quite well until we all heard a four by four drive on up to camp. When it parked I was on the welcoming committee along with a couple other guys,

including the drunk younger brother. I was excited and eager to meet our guests "Hey! What brings you all down to this end of the canyon"? knowing damn well the noise of our party could be heard from Siberia. One of the three guys responded "We came to PARTY"! These were my people, he shook my hand with a Pabst in the other and his jeans rolled up. His beard and beaded bracelet were a dead give away, he was a dirtbag hippy like myself.

One of our three new freinds was considerably younger than the rest of us, and seeing as he was different I naturally gravitated towards him. As it turned out he had just graduated from the same high school that I graduated from, and it was a striking circumstance that the two of us from suburbia Oregon met in a Colorado forest in the middle of the night. Needless to say we had a ton to talk about. He had just graduated and taken a train out of town to see the country. He was on his own trekking the states with the purpose to live. He was an avid climber and read a fair amount of literature. The more I learned the more I was enthralled, even obsessed. I had such a reverence for this kid, taking steps at age 18 that I didn't take until I was 22, and he had even fewer luxuries. As we talked and I tried to travel vicariously through him, to teach him to keep pushing the boundaries, an argument broke out at the flaming Dr. Pepper table. As it turns out one of the new guests had said "goddamn" in some kind of casual manner and the drunken little brother flipped his lid. "you can curse your mom, you can curse your friends, but fuck you if you try and curse my god you son of a bitch"! His response didn't really make much sense, but things escalated and a crowd gathered. The argument turned into a shouting match and people began making threats and saying who could kick whose ass. Seeing as there were about twenty of us and only three of them they began to see themselves out.

Finally our new made friends had become enemies, and I gave the other Oregon boy a type of 'keep it up' farewell. As they got on their four by four we were all back around the campfire and I was disappointed to loose our new friends, but more I was disturbed by the ignorance that I had just witnessed. It is these types of people that make me have a strong disdain for christians. As they were driving off one yelled "have a great goddamn wedding". I laughed, but one guy didn't. Instead he stood up pulled out a pistol and ran after them. He loaded one in the chamber and fired off a few into the air, as a type of dominating sign that he was willing to wield a pistol in defense of a family friendly environment; no god-damning was to be seen around here.

It was at this time that I decided that I like neither rednecks nor guns. It was equally disturbing how I was the only one that seemed in the slightest bit distraught, everyone else laughed and congratulated the gunslinger. The peacemaker who pulled his gun out sat there the rest of the night sort of holding it and stroking it, not saying much and staring deep into the fire. He was a veteran sporting an Army shirt, and I would be lying if i said he didn't scare the shit out of me. He was out of his damn mind and willing to act on it. Needless to say my night was ruined, so I got drunk and fell asleep in the bed of my truck.

I still think of those midnight guests and wonder what was going through their minds as they drove their four by four back to their campsite. To be honest, I wished I had gone with them. I wonder what that 18 year old kid did or is doing today. In my mind he remains perfect, a young kid not giving into the societal pull and pushing the boundaries of adventure. He remains built on youth and courage, acting on conviction and not convenience. I choose not to believe that he was living on mom and dads dime, or on a quick 2 week trip; instead I choose to believe that he left without looking back or without a plan, that he was acting on moral belief and expressing something pure, but the reality is that the conversation never got that far. Instead he is just a phantom in my memories that will be preserved as a kid becoming his own man and following what he believes to be true instead of just doing what he is told. I know that my view is romanticized, but since it is all I know of his life I will choose to believe in the perfection of his story.

Graduation

I found this saved from this spring. I want to post it and make a follow up in a couples days about what life is like in the unknown. This blog never got posted and it feels strangely right to read it and post it now. Enjoy.

The end of the year always brings forth a flurry of emotions and events; it is as if everyone has some kind of super human ability to live free of inhibitions, to love recklessly, act out of character, and partake in any and every event that they can. All is well and no one can wrong you, people are seen as immediate friends and not the strangers we usually see them as. Graduation is a bitter-sweet time where you are caught in the exciting anticipation of the future and diving into the unknown, but it is also the sadness that comes with saying goodbye, and the fear of not really knowing what to do next.

Or at least this is the classic romantic way to view graduation. I feel a sense of sadness for saying goodbye and a sense of excitement for what's next, but moreover it just feels like another day in the life. The last year flew by faster than a bat out of hell, and in a sense I really do think it went by before i knew it. Being so caught up in the fast paced life that is the college student led me away from the harsh reality that life would forever be changed, and that I would never again be in school, or experience the excitement of a class crush, or the anxiety of a final. That chapter has closed and no matter how many times i go back to school or how many classes I take, I am no longer a college student.

What I mean by that is that in college, high school, middle school, and hell, even elementary school we experience a deep camaraderie with our peers. We share a mascot, a fight song, a campus, and a smelly professor obsessed with the sexual behavior of chimpanzees. But now that is lost in the history of my youth, and although I can be a student all my life, I will never again be a student. I have begun the age of adulthood, which supposedly lasts until 65.

In hindsight I feel as though I missed out on the experience of graduation, and it took graduation to make me realize that. Don't get me wrong, I still had some kind of super human ability to live free of inhibitions, to love recklessly, act out of character, and partake in any and every event that I could; but this was a fleeting feeling and lacked the significance it merited. Perhaps it was due to my over-commitment and busy schedule, or maybe it was my incessant need to have some extravagant adventure in the works which keeps my eyes on the future and away from the present. Whatever the reason, i don't think that i fully understood the change at hand, and although I'm sure it will hit me someday, today it is just a day in the life. I don't really live with, or believe in regrets, but doing it again I would put a larger emphasis on the people around me, and a little less on me.

Life is too short, live wild. In all of those teen movies where Michael Cera is trying to get laid or a pathetic Jason Biggs feels the real joy of a granny smith, I see a bunch of repetitive, stupid and sometimes funny immature jokes, which all seem the same regardless of which movie. However, I also can't help but feel that familiar sense of sentiment about a part of life being over, where you leave a world of friends and the familiar for the unknown. For as much as I hate to admit it, damn it, those movies for the uncreative solicit some part of my emotion. I just think it's too bad that my own graduation didn't do the same. Isn't that pathetic, I felt a greater sense of departure the first time I watched American Pie than i did at my own graduation. My unsolicited advice is this, live in the moment, live wild, love recklessly, and dive deeper into your life at hand than you think possible.

With much peace and love,

Tony

Rude awakenings

Since i last wrote there have been countless events and stories, and it has been very eventful. Upon leaving Memphis, I journeyed my way across the great state of Tennessee to the outdoor playground of Chattanooga. Basically since i left Denver the pattern has been that while i am visiting people and staying in a house the weather is as beautiful as it can get, but once i leave to go camping (which has turned into just finding a place to park my truck) mother nature unleashes her fury and sets forth monsoons directly over the cities i am visiting. When i make my complaint to a local the response is always the same "yeah, this weather sure is sumpin'. I don' 'spose it's rained in these parts for a good 3-4 weeks" (remember i am in the south so you can feel free to add an accent). The departure from Memphis was no different, i wasn't all that surprised (although now its expected to rain once i go out on my own) when the rain started to fall down after a couple hours or so of driving. In the south the rain doesn't fall like it does up in Oregon, down here it comes down in droves, in sheets, drops the size of cannon balls falling like the wrath unleashed at Gettysburg. The rain falls in such abundance that even as the windshield wipers go full speed everything still looks like it does when you open your eyes underwater, or better when your a little kid (or, lets be honest here, an adult) cry uncontrollably but you don't blink your eyes.

On the way to Chattanooga the unrelenting storm began, but this time there was lightning! It was beautiful at first, and then a little scary, and finally just annoying. The lightning started after a couple hours of perpetual rain and since i departed late from Memphis it was illuminating the night sky like disco strobe. I pulled int the the great city at about 11 and the lightning was in full force. I can't really remember ever being startled by the lightning but this night i was. I found a nice clean park down by the river to set up camp, i think it was a city park, and went through my bedtime rituals. I got in bed and the rain was pouring down. In the canopy of my truck the aluminum sheet metal that makes the roof amplifies each raindrop to sound like that of a 10 pound sledge. I don't say this to complain, but it is a fact. It took me a minute but sure enough i fell asleep in the downpour and was enjoying some great rest when it struck. I don't know where the lightning struck down, but the thunder was a crack so loud that i sat straight up with a gasp, with my heart racing it took me a while to figure out what the hell the noise was. Needless to say i slept a little uneasy that night.

The Next night, after spending a day in the thriving metropolis, i pulled myself into the same parking spot as the night before and decided it would be a great place to camp out. After the nightly routine of brushing my teeth and fumbling around doing small tasks that don't really serve any benefit other than keeping me busy, i climbed into bed to enjoy a full nights sleep. After dosing off a little, the rain started again and brought me back from the middle grounds between sleep and being awake. This was a small set back, i simply closed all the windows and fell promptly into a coma. Next thing i knew there was a huge banging on the back window, startled my hand dropped to my rifle, but i stopped myself from grabbing it. Something didn't add up. Since when did burglars warn you before entering? When did they start shining flashlights in your eyes? And when the hell did they get matching uniforms, utility belts and badges? Oh shit, the police. I opened the back door and pulled myself to the edge of the opening. I talked with the officers for a few minutes and then realized i was chatting with them in my underwear. "officer, do you mind if i put some pants and a shirt on"? They let me, and we concluded our discussion as civil, dressed individuals. They were nice and thought i was a goofy kid. I guess they saw my car the night before and since it was in the same spot the wanted to check it out. They let me go but said i had to leave. It was about 3 in the morning and so i just pulled into a grocery store parking lot and fell asleep again. A couple hours later i awoke to a loud mechanized roar and spotlights shining in the side window. I was parked facing a curb and here roared a street sweeper about to t-bone my sorry ass. I covered my face with a blanket, as if that would help, and cringed. It passed by an inch and i was terrified. once i realized what was going on i chilled out a little, but i had just seen my life flash before my eyes. The truck didn't stop there, it did about 5,000 trips around the parking lot, and i hardly fell asleep after that.

The best part is that all the while i was laughing at my predicament and still in great spirits. that seems to be the story of my trip, despite circumstance it all remains fun. Viva la Vida!

Cheers,

Tony

On the road

It's been a while since the lasy update and an eternity of events have taken place. The last time i wrote i was in Grand Junction, Co with my good pal Scott. After spending about a week in the junk I experienced all types of adventures, including sailing, seeing the night life, learning not to go for a run while in the desert, moonlight rock climbing, daylight rock climbing, time at a cabin in the woods, and drinking beer the whole time throughout. The next stop was Denver, and what a stop it was! Arriving in Denver i felt a sudden rush of saddness, i attribute that to being in a big city alone, and away from the woods, my love. As quickly as i found myself disheartened i found myself in sheer exuberance. The Denver experience can be categorized as a beautiful 3 day party where sleep was a luxury and time moved quickly. A breif summary is as such:

Arrived alone, sad
Went to get tea and read, feeling better,
Met with friends for dinner and beer, delighted
more beer, pool, and dancing, off my face in joy
chatting and ultimately sleep, tired
Wake up early for coffee, excited
Rock climbing and river swimming, beside myself
mid-day break, tired
new burst of energy off to new freinds appartment downtown, revitalized
beer, dinner, beer, delighted once again
meet up with friends and perhaps another beer, off my face once again
sneak into hot tub, happy
discover hot tub is rather cold, disappointed
get pulled over and subsequently warned about a tail light, relief
arrive at the hippies house, tired
sleep, happy
wake up after a few hours, ready
find luke which takes all day, relaxed
4th of july party and beer, tons of fun
4tyh of july party #2 and beer, fun fun fun!
Talking late in front of the fire, relaxed and real
Wake up in front of the fire, exuberant!!!
Eat and leave denver, gleeful at the unknown.

Needless to say i cannot even come close to capturing the denver experience, there is so much that i cannot put into text and even more that i wont even though i can. After this I took a few days and ultimately ended up in memphis where i am now, but i will leave in about an hour. I have been here since thursday eavening and it has been incredible!! mostly relaxing, but still loads of fun. I have never been treated with such hospitality in my life and it makes me never want to leave, but my feet are itchy and the road has beckoned. Talor and the rest of the Norrid family have treated me so well and i cannot thank them enough. In all my brilliance i have decided it best that i leave today and not think about what i am doing or really where to go, except that i want to jump into the atlantic ocean within a week. A true theme for the last couple years of my life is that i have become progressively irresponsible and loving every minute of it. Where will i sleep tonight? Who knows and better who cares, all i know is that it is now and that sends a shock of excitement through every bone in my body. I lift my glass and make a toast, here is to today, might we all make the most of it,
Cheers.

Locked out

Finding a place to sleep can present itself a challenge at times, especially in the city. Usually a good forest service road will lead to a nice secluded place and if I am lucky there is a river nearby in which to bathe. The city brings forth a host of issues that make finding a decent place to park a little challenging, there are the busy streets and high traffic, the puke coming from a college drunk, the grumpy old men who have the audacity to wake you because your "sleeping in their driveway". There are all types of impositions that take their toll on finding a peaceful resting ground, and usually its not worth the trouble to stay in the city; however, driving through endless miles of country road scattered with "no trespassing" signs also begin to take their toll on morale.

I am driving across the country in my trusty steed, whom I refer to as Shadowfax. It is a 96 white Ford Ranger equipped with a matching aluminum canopy on the back, which makes for quite the cozy all-in-one living quarters. The kitchen is right next to the bedroom, and the den doubles as my walk-in closet. She is now fully equipped with running water, a big jug i fill up regularly, and add a couple folding chairs and the tailgate becomes a nice venetian dining room. Add Steve, my plant, to the mix and it really is quite homey. It's not so bad once you get past the stifling heat and lack of head room, who needs to sit up anyway? All that said she is my noble companion and what i have come to know as home.

On one fateful night i made the command decision to stay in the city, find a nice calm street and set up shop. I understand that it sounds ridicules, but it's possible to be fairly indiscriminate. How often do you look in the back of a pickup to see if someones asleep in the back? I had just found the perfect spot, a long driveway put me at a good distance from the house, and the large oaks would provide some excellent shade come the morning. Just one problem, as i gatherd my things in the cab i noticed that at the end of this driveway stood an old man with wily hair, boxer shorts, moccasins, tall socks, and a white tank top, standing in his doorway giving me the old stare-down. Not one to be easily intimidated i waited him out. This was nonsense because i wasn't going to sleep there now, he would surely ask some questions and give me unwanted attention, but how could i let him intimidate me? A smirk crested over my mouth and the waiting game was on. his persistance held out, but i was the more determined party. No less than 10 minutes later he went inside his home, at which point i could finally leave.

Feeling quite accomplished i looked for another spot, preferably without any homeowners that would frown upon someone making coffee on their tailgate at 9am. I found just the spot, it was nice a quiet, fences on both sides of the street, no homes in sight, big trees, no street lights, the type of place i dream about. I park and step outside to give a quick stretch and close my door. Disaster. As soon as the door hits I check my pockets. Doors locked and keys still in the ignition. To some this might dampen the spirits, but not this guy, it has the opposite effect. Motivation. It's 11 at night and my spirits couldn't be higher. Call a locksmith? Out of the question, i will not be defeated by such a minor setback. Go to sleep and wait till morning? Even more unreasonable. The problem will be solved now.

I had left the back window of the cab open to ventelate, and this was the perfect place to start. I have two dowells that are about 2 1/2 feet long, which i use to stop the sliding windows from being opened by an unwanted roomate. I climb in the back of my good old steed and grab one of the dowels. The back window connects to the living quarters under the canopy, but even when it is fully opened it isn't much larger than an 10" by 14" hole at the biggest. I grab one of the dowels and decide it best to use it and push the unlock button on the door. I fit one arm and my head through the whole and navigated the dowel as if I were the miestro of the symphony. The wand is flailing looking for it's landing zone on the unlock button. It's no use, just not long enough. The wheels start turning and i think to myself, with both arms extended above my head my shoulders will shrink and i can fit through this small window of opportunity. With wand in hand i dive wand, then arms, and head and shoulders through the small opening. Shoulders through, i get stuck. I cannot push forward no matter how hard i try, but even worse is that i cannot backtrack. I drop the wand and every muscle inside me flexes out of terror. I am stuck and no one can help me.

Here i am wedged stuck in my trucks window, on a dark street away from anyone, with my keys three feet in from of my still in the ignition. After a couple deep breaths i calm enough to try and weasel my way out of this window. I get out, not unscathed there are cuts on my back where i was stuck, but who cares, I'm free! My determination does not die down, defeat is never a possibility. One dowel lost in the cab i try again, but in another fracas i lose that one as well. Time for a change in tactics. I need something long and sturdy. As it hits me i nearly fall over with my own brilliance, a tent pole! The time has passed to go for the unlock button, now i am going for the gold. I extend the tent pole in the canopy and decide i will thread the needle. As if it were some kind of carnival game i stick the tent pole through the key ring, rip the keys from the ignition and bring it back. By some act of god it worked. I celebrate my keys and hold them close, "i'll never let you out of my sight again" i promise aloud.

Sweaty, bleeding, and too worked up to fall asleep i simply lay on my mattress with the same smile as when i out waited the old man, Tony Williams will not be defeated that easily.

A love affair...

Colorado has presented itself to be the first candidate that could steal any part of my affection for Oregon. How do i respond to this? Must Oregon and I go to some sort of couples counseling? Have I betrayed my one true love, or is it that the world has more to offer? Oregon still holds itself in the depths of my soul, it is my home, my love, my friend; however, Colorado has thrown itself at me like a bitch in heat, and I, a simple mutt, have taken the bait.

Perhaps my wayward love roots from the familiarity it presents, Colorado feels like home. There is the lush endless greenery as far as the eye can see containing communities constructed of either Grizzly Adams style mountain men or forest dwelling hippies with that familiar musk of weed and patchouli oil. There is the mountains themselves with majestic and fierce wild-life in abundance surrounded by that familiar mix of native and foreign homo-sapiens fully equipped with hiking-boots, wool socks and short shorts even though they plan to never leave the visitors center. They both share the arid and dry desert biome which supplies the right amount of dust and sun to make everything appear as if there is a sepia filter covering your eyes and leaves your skin a spotted and peeling mix of pink and bronze.

Sure, Oregon has the coast and Colorado has the rockies, but what really sets the two apart is that Oregon has its roots deep within my chest, she beckons me and i confide in her; that and hipsters, not many fixed-gear bikes around here. She is home and within her i find the faces of friends and family, old roads i could drive in my sleep, and the primordial feeling of kinship one has with his neighbor, even if they have never spoke lest it be a noise, parking, or public urination complaint.

Here I am in Grand Junction, CO. enjoying the hospitality of my good friend Scott Fricke. I have driven across the Rockies four times now, soon to be a fifth, exploring the depths of this great state, and enjoying my time of solitude as well as my time with community. I am really happy despite my circumstances, and have an exuberance for life. All is well and i will include some humorous stories, there is already a vast abundance, and let you all know what I'm up to. Cheers to being alive!

How to Be a Hobo

1. If you cannot find a place to camp and must sleep in the city find a nice quiet suburban neighborhood, no one bothers you and it is the safest bet
2. Think twice about vigorous physical exercise, showers are a luxury
3. Most people are generally nice
4. Dollar beers are good for all the obvious reasons, but some of the lesser known benefits are that it forces you to sleep where you parked, close to the bar, and you sleep deep through the traffic and other general concerns which would normally leave you lying awake
5. The harder it is to make a cup of coffee the better it will taste
6. It snows in Wyoming, in June!
7. Park in a place that will be in the shade come morning, the sun is the most relentless alarm clock that exists
8. Sometimes you've just got to buck up and bathe no matter how cold the water is
9. Trees are your friend, among other reasons the make for a great place to inconspicuously pee
10. Eat at regular times and remember that coffee is a diuretic, its helpful to know when you've got to go

Greetings from the Rocky Mountains!

Reid and I have just passed through a quick and eventful leg of the journey. Here I am in Fraser Colorado spending the evening with Spencer Davis, the dirty dog himself. The first few days have been a blast. Reid and I cruised through Bend, to Boise, to Jackson Wyoming, down to Fort Collins Colorado and now here we are in Fraser. It has been a blast and i would have wanted to spend the trip with no one else other than Reido, but alas tomorrow I depart to find my way somewhere through the land of the brave to end up in the empire state. I am sure that there will be many stops along the way, and I'm not quite sure if I'm ready to be stuck in a truck with no one but myself and Steve (my plant) for the next 6 weeks, but i will soon find out. Undoubtedly I will experience deep loneliness and i will certainly go stir crazy, but the adventure is upon me and i look to make the most of every moment. I long to be challenged and pushed to the brink what I think I'm capable of, and realize that the limits do not exist. I wish to love and live and to see gods great earth. Today is here and now, off i go.

With much peace and love,

Tony