Day Three. I sit in Whitey Ford, in Florence, Oregon, on Monday. Together we have traveled over five hundred and fifty miles since our ignoble departure Saturday afternoon. Truth be known, Whitey has done most of the work, all four cylinders and maybe two hundred horses of her. All I do is steer, speed up, slow down and keep it between the lines. I think we make a good team, Whitey and me.
Last night, Sunday, we pulled into Neskowin (Pop 134) just before sunset and took a cruise on the beach, capturing some decent video and scouting a place to camp. Camping, for those of you just joining us, means finding an out-of-the-way parking spot that offers the single amenity we require. We don't care about hookups, electrical, hot showers, beach access, wifi, or bathrooms. We care about the cost. As in it must be foxtrot, romeo, echo, echo. FREE. Accordingly, this excludes most areas considered 'normal' by traditional camping standards. So we seek 'alternative' locations. To give you an idea, Saturday night was in the overflow parking area of a sold-out Washington State Park (Staircase) and last night was in the Neskowin park and ride lot across from their golf course just off of 101. It was everything we could want in a short stay. We were lights out by ten and on the road by five, rested, ready for the day and with the forty dollars the campsite wanted for a primitive spot, still tucked in the front pocket of my faded Levis.
Previously that evening I tipped a Denny's hostess five to seat me near power access under the condition that I would be a while. The mission was to download all media, recharge batteries and, wifi permitting, post to the site. Three hours, a house salad and a grilled cheese sandwich later, we had accomplished the first two but failed on the third. You can blame the streak interruption on Denny. The video, should you be one of those interested in the current project, is quite OK, including the reconstruction of video I thought was lost forever due to tech issues on the first night of shooting. After diner and the short drive we were pleased with the overall quality of the day, the drive, and the new media.
Today was another double century, from Neskowin to my current location in Florence. Lot's of good material today including the first bike video and an amazing time lapse sequence in Yachats. It is a few minutes before three and I am waiting to hear from my old friend Jerry, who lives on a nearby lake, to see if we can hook up for dinner.
If not we will repeat the search procedures outlined above and end a most productive day the way we started it.
I had an interesting thought today, somewhere I think near Depoe Bay (Pop 1,398). If we can, as many say, talk ourselves into a bad mood, is the reverse not available as well? I find it amazing how, alone at the wheel for five, six, seven hours, the mind, mine anyway, drifts back to situations, scenes, conversations, places, smells, that in total, comprise our entire deep storage, literally the uninsurable bank of our memory. Almost always I will recall, like today, some weird, silly and sometimes embarrassing take-one scene from my movie. Who the fuck wrote that and how did it get into production?
Likewise, after today's episode, I thought that I would try something new instead of wondering why I had suddenly fallen into the septic tank of internal humiliation, and bingo I was in the process of taking myself into feeling like the first time I had blazed this trail, young, alive, free and wanting only the experience of the adventure.
I tapped the stereo and there was the song. Asking me to wake up to find out that I am the eyes of the world.
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