Wheelchair Accessible?

Rolled in around sunset, semi-desirous of a night on the town in the city that Jill so loved during her tenure here. Just being here makes me think of her, makes me miss her. When I was here with her, she was my safe zone, my womb of security. I was freaking out a lot during that time. But I enjoyed Missoula, more I suppose because of her love for the place than anything.

Well, took care of that problem. No more ambivalence. We're in Idaho now. Jerry Johnson campground and au natural hot springs.

I'm leading two men in their 40's around the country. How? Why? What is it about me that makes them follow?

Seven is our new chef. Salisbury Steak, noodles and spinach dinner. Vendange zinfandel and Olympia beer. Salutes over dinner, in thanks for our progress, for Duke's fortitude, for friendship. Then after dinner Tex bums a cig off Seven and Seven goes ballistic. Tex doesn't want to struggle up into the trunk sculpture because he hurt his tailbone today. But Seven couldn't if he wanted to. They fight. I get up and walk to the river. It is spectacular in the light of the full moon. I remember that we're in bear country now. When I return to camp the Salisbury Steak has been left out. Beer bait. Great, especially with Tex sleeping on the ground right near the table.

I pack it into the cooler, the cooler into Duke's trunk and go to bed.

The next morning I rise, actually I "drop" through the hatch down into the car and pop a tape in the pa system, ringing in the dawn with Bowie's Major Tom. Immediately I become fascinated with a rib bone given me by a young author named Morgan Teele who says he's been to Woody Creek Tavern in Colorado several times trying to meet the Great Gonzo One. Morgan has autographed the bone alongside the name of his book, "Road Dogs of the Dead." I glue it to Duke's ceiling. Easy. Then I take on one of those fucking three-pronged Granada name plates and it's a big, gluey mess and won't stay where I want it. Now I'm all sore from weird contortions trying to glue upside down. Sore and reminded that my belly is empty. Eats.

Several handfuls of dry Cheerios, a mug of instant coffee, three bites of a red delicious apple (my least favorite apple), and a couple of bites off last night's ice-chest-cold Salisbury steak. Mmm. Breakfast of champions. Talk of Bob this morning. Oxo Bob and his big-ass house. We all agree that if we had more time we'd wanna go back and hang awhile with Bob.

A perfect day. Blue sky, vaulting ponderosa pine, temperature just right. No complaints on the weather for the past few days. Hell, for the whole trip really. Aside from the somewhat drawn out rains in the Black Hills, the weather has been perfect. And even those rains were do-able. Hell, Tex and all the rest came from Houston where record highs and no rain have been toasting the old and the weak. And everywhere it's been reported hot. But along our route up here in the north by northwest, it's been mild.

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Last update April 1, 2004