two, the crowd would have thrown rotten vegetables if they had any. He droned a few more lines when the cry came from the top of the natural amphitheater“ gong‘ em”. The crowd roared its approval and a judge whacked the gong with a hammer.
The singer slunk off the stage. He was followed by a comedian, and then by a black man who did a Bobby McFerrin imitation. He was followed by Andrea Harsell, a professional singer who sang Janis Joplin’ s“ Mercedes Benz” a’ Cappella. Her voice carried up to the last row and the audience started singing with her after the first line. She was followed by a teenage waif who sang a heart-breaking song she wrote. The restive crowd was polite and let her finish. Another“ hippie with a guitar” knocked our collective socks off with an energetically performed song about something that seemed important to him. A white boy rapped out a poem he wrote, which was well received, while the next poet was booed off the stage. The audience could be merciless and was very vocal with their likes and dislikes. I left at midnight to find a fire to warm my still damp nylon biker jacket.
Near my tent was the Lovin’ Oven camp where the family built earth and stone wood-fired ovens. They baked bread, buns, brownies and all sorts of dough-based delicacies. I had a piece of brownie, an unadulterated variety and was it was delicious at 2 a. m. The Lovin’ Oven had a triple fire-ring community area under a very large tarp that was suspended from trees. The fire pit was ringed with stumps and log benches and on each one was a body toasting in the heat. The musicians stood in a bunch on the smokeless side of the fire and played popular rock music.
People sang along if they knew the songs and even if they did not. One shapely thirty-ish woman in a tight black dress danced near the fire. Her gown was sleeveless and low cut. She had amazingly bushy under-arm hair that accented her long black cranial tresses. After listening to male voices for an hour, some one asked her to sing. In a nearly operatic voice she sang three Janis Joplin songs, starting with“ Me and Bobby McGee” and ending in“ Mercedes Benz”. An interesting choice for people who say they eschew material goods.
In fact many people attending the event drove decent looking vehicles, from VW Westfalia campers, to current century pickup trucks and Subarus. I saw three other motorcycles in the parking lot, an old Honda dirt bike, a newer Harley and a large Japanese street bike. There were many converted school buses, lots of motor homes, and one 1950s Chevy bread truck with flowers painted on the side. I saw one car dead on the road leading into camp and plenty of 20th century cars that should have been traded in during the“ Cash for Clunkers” program. A lot of Rainbows hitchhiked or walked to the gathering.
I finally entered my tent to sleep; the bottle of wine now empty. I slept in my clothes because the sleeping bag was not warm enough. I fell asleep to the gentle pounding of the drums and an occasional cheer. I woke in the morning to the sounds of children talking. Other than that, the camp was silent – eerily so. After leaving my morning urine on a tree like a Boy Scout, I was reminded that we were asked to be silent and prayerful from dawn until noon, when the prayer circle for world peace would start.
It was early, I was bored, I hungry and needed to relieve my bowels. I was breaking camp when“ J” came over with a whispered question“ Why are you leaving?” I admitted that I was unprepared for another day there and had“ better things to do.” She said she had been there since Monday and had seen it all too. I believe she wanted to leave after the mid-day prayer. She also bridled at the“ unwritten rule” that we had to be silent. I was reminded to be quiet several times, and I tried to respect their wishes and customs.
I rolled up the tent in the sleeping pad and packed my dry bag with all my stuff. I donated toilet paper and water and picked up a few stray pieces of trash and humped them up the hill. I was huffing and puffing all the way up and it was not even hot out yet.“ M” wanted me to come down the hill again for the prayer, but once on top other concerns seemed more important.
With the help of Carlos, a black man from‘ south of the Texas border’( judging from his accent) I pulled the bike out of the divot under the tree and got it on the road surface. I thanked him profusely, gave him a manly hug and loaded my gear high on the bike
I drove out, smiling at cops, Rainbows and whoever was on the road. The gate greeters, who allegedly were drunk all the time, did not acknowledge my exit. I had a brunch at Rosa’ s Cantina, made several cell calls and texts saying I survived and rode to Wisdom. There I was gouged for gas($ 4.26 per gallon for premium), gave up my garbage and had a several minute conversation with a couple from South Carolina who wanted to drive up to the gathering in their Cadillac Escalade SUV. I warned him about the 20 mile round trip on gravel but they seemed to be determined to be tourists and see the hippies. A Rainbow sister was in the Jeep behind me patiently waiting to get to the pump.
Outside of Wisdom, I came upon a Highway Patrol car while exceeding the speed limit by 5MPH or more. He blinked his roof lights at me, I slowed, he slowed, I thought“ Oh crap”, but then he doused the lights and sped on. I kept the BMW under 70 for much of the rest of my time in the Big Hole. My MP3 player ran out of battery and I had to ride without amplification all the way back to Missoula, singing“ Oh Lord, won’ t you buy me a Mercedes Benz? All my friends drive Beemers and I must make amends.”
“ Fun Facts” about the Rainbow Gathering, gleaned from the internet and local newspapers and conversations: The Forest Service estimated that 9,700 people and 1,925 vehicles attended the gathering. The first people arrived several days after the gathering place was announced by the Rainbow Council in mid-June. It snowed on the early campers, driving away the young ravers and leaving camp construction to“ the adults.” The attendance numbers apparently were determined by aerial surveillance. I heard a small plane loiter over the camp on the morning of July 4. Aerial photos were posted on the internet.
There is a 16 day limit for camping in one place on Forest Service land. That rule was mostly ignored by the FS law enforcement. The Missoula Independent reported that“ law enforcement ' s strong presence didn ' t detract from
The West Old & New Page 13