Serendipity, Diogenes and the Gold Kazoo 1

“I don’t know why they don’t put you in jail. It’s a crime to be happy without
  equipment.”
                                                                     John Steinbeck, Sweet Thursday



I made it to Seattle by the end of the day. A nephrologist friend of a respirologist friend hosted me for a couple of days, while I suited up and provisioned the next leg of the journey. I strolled into REI Co-op with a list, a swagger, and the intended realization of all my twilight dreaming about adventure gear.
“You need some help?” Asked one of the young sales staff.
“I do, indeed.” I said.
“What are you looking for?”
“People, places, ideas and things.” I replied. “But today I need things.”
I already had a brown internal frame knapsack named ‘Serendipity,’ but the only contents were some clothes, a few toiletries, and a silver flute.
“What sort of conditions are you likely to be camping in?” He asked.
“All kinds.”
I already knew what I was seeking- an Early Seasons green and yellow tent that looked like something Diogenes would have bathed in, a golden kazoo-shaped sleeping bag, a blue anorak, and the first of fourteen pairs of hiking boots I would destroy over the course of the next five years. I bought an Olympus XA camera that I named ‘Oracle.’ Although these items alone consumed ten per cent of everything I had earned in my internship year, I still had $2500 to see the world. In retrospect, it appears I was making a terrible mistake. I didn’t have too little money. I had too many things.
Second Rule of Hitchhiking: Possessions weigh you down.




                                              “I took a kimono off
                                               To feel lighter
                                               Only putting it in the load
                                               On my back”
                                                                 Manoiku



                                        *         *        *



                                           “Where you goin?”
                                           “Sleep”
                                           “Sleep where”
                                           “On the sand”
                                           “Why?”
                                           “Got my sleeping bag”
                                           “Why?”
                                           “Studying the great outdoors”
                                           “Who are you? Let’s see some identification”
                                           “I just spent a summer with the Forest Service”
                                           “Did you get paid?”
                                           “Yeah.”
                                           “Then why don’t you go to a hotel?”
                                           “I like it better outdoors and it’s free.”
                                           “Why?”
                                           “Because I’m studying hobo.”
                                           “What’s so good about that?”
                                                             Jack Kerouac, Lonesome Traveler



My first night out in the real world occurred in Coos Bay, Oregon. The truck driver that took me there from Seattle pointed to a copse of Douglas fir trees, out on a nearby peninsula.
“I’d camp there for the night.” He said, as I slid out of the cab.
I camped there.
Serendipity and I sat in the mouth of Diogenes, watching the moonlit waves lap the shore.
I played the silver flute. And dreamt inside the Gold Kazoo.