Going West At Last

Once I returned from my ill-fated trip to the Rainbow Gathering, I considered flying or taking Greyhound to just get myself off the East Coast, but I knew I had to make that drive or it wouldn't be worth it. It wasn't just about getting there — it was all about the process of getting there.

An acquaintance introduced me to a couple of hippies who were about to leave town to drive from Portsmouth to Eugene, Oregon to see Bob Dylan and The Grateful Dead play a concert. She had a dark green VW Bus, and that seemed the perfect destination in the perfect vehicle.

I had another friend from Portsmouth who had moved to Eugene the year before. I called her immediately and she told me that if I could get to her house I would have a place to stay until I figured out what I wanted to do. Knowing that I had a place to land allowed me to fully enjoy the trip.

Leaving Portsmouth for the second time was anti-climactic; I'd been here before. We headed down I-95 and picked up the Pennsylvania Turnpike (I-76) headed west. It wasn't until I'd crossed the state of Pennsylvania and entered Ohio around dusk that I knew this was for real. I had been here once before, but this was different and I liked it.

We drove day and night, taking turns at the wheel and filling the tank. We pulled off at small towns to find food in Safeway's and look at the locals. The people I was with were an interesting diversion in their own right, but the car had a stereo and highway was clear, so that hardly mattered.

Broken down!
near Laramie, WY

Cruising out of Laramie, Wyoming around dusk on the second day the van died. We spent a sleepless night piled in the back on the shoulder of I-70 while each passing truck rocked us violently. A godsend of a mechanic in Laramie put on the road again late the next afternoon, but by then it became clear that we were not going to be in Eugene in time for the Dylan/Dead show. We now set our sights on Berkeley, California where both my hippie friends knew people we could stay with. I, living by serendipity, thought that was fine.

How Hippies fix vans
near Laramie, WY

My traveling companions had a rocky relationship, which led to their breaking up and getting back together in the wee morning hours in Salt Lake City, Utah. Their relationship (and the van) were able to hold together long enough to get us to Berkeley, but when we arrived she said she needed some space, so he and I were dumped near People's Park. Fortunately he had some friends to crash with and we spent the night in UC Berkeley student housing.

I found myself in the care of people I hardly knew in the strange world that is Telegraph Avenue in Berkeley, California. I had made it to the West, but this was not where I wanted to end up.