When Tripping...be prepared

 When Tripping...be prepared and be careful- part one

    In 1975 when I was a lad of 27, living on Church Lane a camping craze had gripped the fellas and the addition of psychedelics made even a mundane spot seem like paradise. As has been mentioned youth and drugs together often included poor planning and bungled results. However, if the camping trip described here lacked good sense it did provide great stories forever. In my short experience of hippy living as a part of  the Augustine Glass contingent I camped out with parts of that crew in the wilds of the Sespe Condor Sanctuary out near Filmore in the canyons of the Topatopa mountains. The wilderness area was once home for Chumash indians who named the place Sespe meaning "kneecap" in their language. Since I just followed some seasoned hippy hikers in my previous trip I had no real idea of what such a trek would entail. We got our hands on some blotter acid and drew a group together that included me, Zeke, Ed  and a pal we called Mister Lucky but his true name was John Consoli. Like most of these outings it was concieved on a whim and conducted in a headlong rush toward the unknown. I had no camping gear but we drove by the apartment of Gail Glaze who loaned me an old sleeping bag which I believed would be good enough. We had a tent and we had a couple gallons of cheap wine along with plenty of pot. You may notice the lack of water and food except for some cheap Shasta soda pops in the one cooler we possessed.  It was off season, sometime in the early Fall and we just drove until we saw a clearing and made that our makeshift camp. That night we sat around a campfire drinking and not paying much attention to the occasional plops that seemed to come out of the dark. Only after a couple of hours did someone light a butt and found the dixie cups filled with wine  joined by grubs falling from the trees because of the fire.  So the time came when the drugs and alcohol brought the sandman to our camp and I went and grabbed the borrowed sleeping bag only to find it was a child's model that reached to about my mid-chest. It did feature a cute pattern stating "peace" and "love" which I found would not keep out the rapidly dropping temperature. The well-prepared Zeke, of course, had a minus 4 degree down bag that he could have laid in the snow. The plummeting temperature made it impossible for me to sleep and there was to be no respite from the cold induced insomnia as my teeth literally chattered and I was in a fetal position most of the long, long night. Morning finally came and I got up in a very dark mood. I paced around camp and after a while the better prepared gents came refreshed out of their adequate sleeping bags and Zeke pronounced himself roasty-toasty in his underwear. I should also point out that I was still nursing a badly sprained ankle that was in a cast up until weeks before the trip. However, I borrowed a sturdy pair of boots from my father which were heavy and unagainly. Instead of  nourishing breakfast we drank from a nearby stream and took the acid. Taking a  psychedelic with no sleep is not terrible as long as you are not required to perform lots of physically demanding tasks. Little did we know that the idyllic valley where condors soared above was seven miles across the rugged hills with no  signs or directions from humans. Several times we thought about turning back but we soldiered on through  the dry landscape. After a kind of Bataan death march we came upon blessed Sespe creek.  This part of the journey was just what a great acid trip was all about with the flowing stream, inviting pools, verdant landscapes, paths through the vegetation and complete freedom from mankind. As we passed through a meadow we were sudenly startled by some raggedly looking hippy dudes who seemed to be actually living off the fat of the land and they sent out some bad vibes man.  We all thought they looked like the Manson family but greeted them with love and peace and passed by with no incident. Later Ed and I sat in bliss by a picturesque pool when we noticed a good sized lizard perched on the opposite bank. Ed said "check out Johnny Lizard" and as we looked at  him the reptile nodded as if he understood our trip. With our consciousness expanded we saw a connection to the lizard world. The group spread out to ponder existence and I found a quiet pool where I removed all my clothing and sank into the water just as the beforementioned Mansonoids wandered up with a big bowie knife glaring at me from one of their waistbands. I assumed slaughter but they moved on leaving me to  become one with nature. Meanwhile the rest of the explorers found an actual cave with Indian drawings carved centuries before. That was legitimately mind-blowing. The time spent in the canyon was truly blissfull but as the sun began to sink we knew we had a long hike back to the camp. It was at this time with my boots removed that I noticed a swelling in the ankle formerly sprained on October 4. The weariness masked by the drugs then began to settle in my noodly limbs conbined with the  knowledge that we had a 7 miles hike ahead of us. Truthfully, I was done before we started but I just watched the men in front of me and tried to keep up.  (Part 2 next)

(to be continued)