After spending a surprisingly restful night sleeping in the back
lot of a rest stop, we woke up to a steady drizzle of rain on the
roof. We lazed about the van until 10AM, when we finally decided to
make a break South.
We stopped at a hardware store on 101 to pick up some odds and
ends for mods on the van. We got a small strip of steel to cut up
and glue in different places, so that we could have more options of
locations for placing the magnetic lights. We also got a magnetic
knife strip to store our cutlery, to cut down on drawer items. I made
some repairs to the Reflectix window coverings as well. It turns out
that the sticky back velcro interacted with the adhesive I used, and
consequently didn't form a tight bond. I replaced it with regular
sew-on type velcro.
We met up with my friend Zee in Garberville, CA. It's a tiny town
in Humboldt county, which is pretty obviously is centered around a
very specific cash crop. The numerous head shops and tye-die clothing
items gives you a pretty clear idea what this crop might be. Zee is
currently serving a term as an agricultural worker in this particular
industry, and making a fair penny at it to boot. We met up for beers
at a local cafe, then were invited to camp at the bottom of a remote
mountain road that lead to the farm. If the rutted and winding gravel
road wasn't enough to deter most passerby, the heavy, padlocked steel
gate and multiple warning signs should have done the trick. I didn't
need to be told to understand that more “heavy duty” security
measures undoubtedly lay in store beyond, should someone perchance
stray their way with foul intentions. Zee laughed and said “Look,
this isn't Scarface. It's a simple business, good people with
families. We take care of each other.”
In the morning, we woke up to cold noses and our breath hanging in
the air. Just as we had finished packing up and were preparing to
leave, a truck pulled up to the gate and a man got out and stared,
then started walking directly towards us. I got out to say hello with
a big smile, which he did not return. “ Hey, man, you can't just
stay here without permission you know, this is private property and
that's not really cool.” He scowled threateningly and folded his
arms. I apologized and told him we were guests of Zee's, the ones she
told him about last night, didn't he remember? I tried to look as
innocent and non-drug-stealing as possible. He instantly changed
demeanor and smiled and introduced himself. He was the owner of one
of the largest farms on the mountain, a rough spoken but incredibly
generous soul. He apologized for his gruff manor, saying “You can't
be too careful here man, lots of deadbeat pieces of shit hangin'
around.” He offered to let us stay up on his property for safety,
and to give us keys to his house in town so that we could shower. He
insisted we take his phone number in case we needed anything at all
while we were in town. I was shaken by his instant, unquestioning
generosity and hospitality. This was not the image of a drug lord
that I had been sold since kindergarten. He was genuinely kind, warm,
giving person. We thanked him profusely and headed on our way,
thoughts of the lost art of hospitality heavy in our minds.
No comments:
Post a Comment