The morning held a bittersweet farewell -- not to my family, who will be coming to Salem to see the first ceremony tomorrow, anyways -- but to the Bumblebox. The good folks at White Bison had figured out a place where I could swap the gas-guzzling behemoth out for a panel van like the one I was originally supposed to have.
The new van has exactly the same construction as the old one, but is about the size of something suburbanites would use to drive their kids to soccer practice. In other words, it means I can back up, make turns without hitting curbs, and get more than one mile to the gallon. The downside is that I have to start remembering where I parked, as it will no longer be painfully obvious.
This was my first opportunity to meet the team, and early signs appear very promising. There was some problem with Maria's flight, so I haven't met her yet, but Don and Marlin have their same powerful presence and radiating sense of conviction, and Wayne (who I'd never met before) seems like a real nice guy and a real benefit to general organization and success. There were a few other people I met -- it sounds like one elder, Ozzie, will be traveling with us for a few days.
My van has no real ability to hold people, so I have become the official equipment van. I now carry all my own stuff, plus several hundred books, some ceremonial equipment, other people's luggage, T-shirts for sale, some rocks (not sure what those are for, yet), and some extra tripods and such that someone at White Bison found and provided for me. I've also been given temporary custodity
***
This was the point that a four-plus hour adventure began involving the emergency room, swine flu, and the police. It's now 2AM and I'm going to bed.
T Minus One
Being Social
First, Montana is really long. It took us 13 1/2 hours of driving straight west to get from one side to the other. And I mean STRAIGHT west. That road doesn't so much as wiggle for hundreds of miles.
Secondly, Idaho is really short. Since we crossed a time zone midway through, we drove from one end of the state to the other in seven minutes. It was also prettier.
This leg was unquestionably the "social" one; I doubt I'll have much time to visit people when I'm pointed back towards the east.
The first stop was in Big Timber, Montana, a town known for its drug trade and for having a restaurant. We went to the restaurant, and it certainly lived up to its hype: it was a restaurant. We met my Aunt Barb (Dad's sister) and Uncle Tom there, where we had a quick bite to eat and discussed if the Bumblebox looked suspicious or not. Aunt Barb was determined to be a good grandmother, and was sure to bring out pictures of her daughter's little one at every appropriate opportunity.
If not for babies, who would buy "booties" anymore?
Dad and I had the very good fortune of being able to stop in Seattle to visit my dear friend Katie, who decided it would a really good idea to move a really long way away for some reason. Nice try -- I found you!
She seems to have fit very well into Seattle life, and took us on a walking tour of a hugely massive market area with fresh fruit and stuff. We looked at Puget Sound, admired some steel sculptures, and had sandwiches. Hopefully, next time I'm a little less rushed; I'd like to check Seattle out more thoroughly sometime.
It rained the whole time, but we didn't want to stick out; we left our huge yellow box parked and walked everywhere without hats or umbrellas, just like all the locals. They all looked fine, but I suspect I looked really, really wet. I wonder how they do that.
Right now we're near Portland, staying with Dad's brother's family. Apparently, Uncle Rich makes humongous hamburgers, which seems like pretty good way to make them. I taught the kids to play Race for the Galaxy, and... and...
...I'm pretty sure I can think of something that's happened today, but I can't keep my eyes open any longer. Everyone else has already gone to bed. I'll fill this in more later, if I get the chance.
***
edit: It was good to see family again; being so distant means we only cross paths once a year, or less. The kids and I tried to decide if there were any cousins left to get married (triggering a family reunion). I think it's pretty much down to Brian. If you're reading this, man, we're counting on you.
Jacob then proceeded to destroy me at Smash Brothers. It's not fair.
Aunt Ollie, bless her heart, was pretty determined to mother me while I was under her roof. She helped me with my laundry, made me a bunch of little toaster waffles, gave a choice of brownies with or without nuts, and even sent me on the road with some new board games (being a favorite pasttime of mine). If she'd be willing to just follow me around for the next six weeks, this would be the easiest trip ever. And I'd never be hungry or thirsty again.
***
Tomorrow morning I leave for Oregon, leaving Dad behind. It's been a good trip out, and I'll be sorry to see him go. But, sink or swim, from here on out my success is up to me. I hope I can find Oregon from here. Maybe I'll download a map in the morning before I go.
The first ceremony is the day after tomorrow.
Flight of the Bumblebox
The first leg of the trip was supposed to be easy enough.
The plan, as I initially understood it, was that we would head west to the first ceremony in Salem, OR. The nature of "we" was a little fuzzy, but I assumed it would all somehow get taken care of. That misconception crumbled away by degrees fairly quickly, as most misconceptions do.
A few weeks back I learned that Marlin, one of the team of five (more on this later), was the only other member coming from Minnesota -- and he was planning on flying. That left me on my own to get to Oregon. But surely, once there, that nebulous "we" would solidify and "we" would start heading east again.
But not so much. First, I have the vast majority of the equipment. Secondly, the other four are really focused on ceremonies and organzing community events and such. That means they're stuck on a strict schedule of travel. I, on the other hand, may be asked to fall behind or go ahead so as to get good video footage.
The net result was that I would be driving solo for six weeks and 10,000 miles with a trunk of equipment.
Doubtfully, I sent my little Camry in to the shop to see if it would live through this adventure. Since State Farm will no longer insure it, it only sometimes turns left, and you can only open one door at a time, it seemed unlikely to be the ideal vehicle for this adventure. When I got it back from the shop, they had replaced the axle and the thing that connects it to the wheel, saying something about how another few miles might have caused it to collapse, killing me.
I won't be taking the Camry.
White Bison was very understanding, and snapped right into action finding me another vehicle. I was very impressed with their immediate response and general helpfulness -- these are good people to be working with. They found a van to rent in Fargo, and got everything lined up for me. I slightly misunderstood the instructions, however, hearing only that I needed to pick the car up on a certain day. Apparently, I needed to pick the car up on a certain day before noon. Noon came and went, and the rental place canceled our long-standing reservation without bothering to call me, White Bison, or anyone else.
So, I arrived in Fargo with my parents, expecting to transfer a few bags and send Mom back home with our van (not the Camry, which is recuperating from its surgery by refusing to start). Instead, I found no car, and most rental places within two hours of closing. I know almost nothing about Fargo, and that set off a whole pile of phone calls trying to solve this delemma.
Long, stressful story made short: Dad and I ended up leaving Fargo in a rented car, prepared to cross the long wilds of North Dakota, the vast reaches of Montana, the twin mountain passes of Idaho, and the urban jungles of Seattle and Portland in a vehicle tenderly nicknamed "The Bumblebox."
Pictures will be coming soon; but imagine, if you will, a huge yellow cube 11 feet high by 16' long. It's a moving van for a three-bedroom house: the last vehicle left in Fargo.
F1rst p0st!!!
In order to make it out to the first ceremony (Oregon), I've decided I'll need to leave home by Monday. That's tomorrow.
As far as I can tell, I don't think anything I'm looking at right now counts as "packed." I thought I'd have some time over this weekend, but nothing doing. Two days ago, I spent the day filming. Yesterday, I had a meeting that ended up lasting (brace yourself) 11 and a half hours. Today, I made a blog and realized that I really should pack something.
Maybe a camera and some socks, or something. Toothbrush?