[lumberjim]

Heather, Shelby and Gina had been to a Rainbow gathering the previous year in Sept Isles, Quebec (and one shortly following that in Woodstock, NY.). It was a National Gathering and there were thousands of people there. Shawnee was to be a smaller gathering. By the time it was in stride, there were only 100-150 people at this one. Imagine a field party without the kegs and the band. For two weeks. We arrived after dark, and there was a very confusing scene as other people were also arriving and spilling out of their cars and milling about. Selecting a campsite was quite interesting. Somehow, though we managed to set up in an ideal spot that was private, and yet just a short walk from where the main kitchen ended up being. The first thing I remember about the next morning was people’s voices through the trees calling, “Welcome Home!” to each other. And when we all got our selves together, and made our way to the kitchen, we got the same greeting. Introductions all around, “Would you like some tea?” We had breakfast with them, and then got busy stocking our camp with dead timber for our own campfire. These two weeks stand out in my memory.

I think it was the first day we got there that we met Marco. Marco was a cross between a bum and a tweaker. He was naked when we met him. Completely naked. Striding about the rocks like he was in his bathroom. He was from the Bronx, and had the accent to boot. He’d been in jail, and found rainbow shortly after his release and had latched on to it, and followed it wherever it took him. Ok. A nudist. I think he had a girlfriend that was also naked most of the time.

The campsite was in the woods on the edge of a big flat field where we would gather. Behind the tents and campsites, there were great slabs of stone forming a ridge about 20 feet tall that ran laterally for miles in the woods. Above these shelves were more shelves of stone that led to the top of the hill and ran along in both directions out of sight. There was a path along the top of the highest ridge, and sparse trees grew along the edges of it making it into a corridor of filtered sunlight by day, and a ribbon of shimmering moonlight on the stone path by night.

We spent entire days on those rocks crafting this and that. In that time, I learned how to Peyote stitch and made various casings for some of the crystals I had brought with me. We had also brought a bit of deerskin suede that we made pouches and medicine bags out of. It was our intent to sell this stuff at the Oakland shows at the end of October. I also began working on a belt, as I was losing weight rapidly. When we left, I was 225 lbs, and by the time we returned home in late November, I was around 170. Food, water, and wood were ever present priorities in our daily life.

Most days, we began by gathering firewood and water to last us the day. We took turns driving into Shawnee to fill several 5 gallon jugs with water at a gas station to bring back to camp, since there was no potable supply on hand. It was around this time that we met Troll. Troll was a Dead Head and had come to this gathering alone. Well, he had recently acquired a golden Labrador puppy named Daisy. He drove a yellow Gremlin wagon with wood paneling. He was one of those guys that you like right away, and he fit in with our group immediately. We invited him to camp with us, and he did. Troll went with us when it was our turn to go get water for the kitchen, and while we were at it, he and Daisy managed to “Spange” $30 in a half hour in the neighboring McD’s parking lot. “Spange” is a contraction for Spare Change. He used the “I need to buy some puppy chow” line very effectively. I remember being somewhat aghast at this, as I’d never known anyone that begged before. I was also impressed that he’d made $60/hour doing it. I had quit a job that paid me $8.50 and hour to go on tour. This was also my first exposure to WalMart. I was perplexed by the existence of this monolithic store in the midst of this highly rural area. There didn’t seem to be anything else in the town apart from the gas station and fast food restaurants. Seemed like a great store to me at the time.

We would bring the big jugs back to the main Kitchen, and drop our own smaller jugs off at our campsite, and then try to help with making dinner. Usually some type of bean chili over rice, with a salad or potatoes if they were available. One day I woke up feeling a cold coming on. My throat was aggravated by the Bugler tobacco we had been smoking because it’s much cheaper to roll your own smokes. I was urged by Heather to eat an entire raw clove of garlic. I tried it. It was awful. That night in the kitchen, I witnessed two separate cooks give the rice and beans “en extra healthy dose” of cayenne pepper. By the time the second one heard me shouting at him, it was too late. That was some bumpin’ food. Never did get that cold, though.