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Part 2 of 2

I damned near bought the farm when I went into the Clackamas high on acid the day it turned hot.  The water was little more than ankle deep, but the current pulled me off my feet and I went through a set of rapids barefoot with just a pair of jeans on.  People on the bank shouted instructions to just relax, face up-river and the like. I finally crawled out of the river it seemed like a mile or more downstream; I was quite exhausted.  It was almost dusk and it took me until two in the morning to find my way back to my campsite.

After dark on the way back, I remember climbing a ridge and seeing what looked like teepees and campfires for as far as the eye could see; the feeling was of stumbling upon an Indian encampment hundreds of years ago. I stopped several times to ask for directions and would inevitably smoke more dope or whatever so that my progress was impeded; two steps forward, one step back.

Each day the crowd swelled and I had this great sensation of watching a community organize itself right before my eyes.  Signs went up, pathways were established, people would do trash duty and the like.  The State of Oregon not only had food kitchens set up, but they would drop off pressed sawdust bricks (not pot - I would have known) for fires so that no one had to disturb the forest.

There was surprisingly little if any organized music, just a lot of individuals playing guitar, drums or the occasional flute. There were no political gatherings or rants either as far as I could tell. Just a lot of mostly stoned younger people spontaneously hooking up for sex, drugs and a simple, almost innocent outdoor experience. That's how I remember it anyway.

We had to get back to the East Coast and so we left the day the festival was supposed to start. The crowd had grown to perhaps 40,000.  From what Love said about the weather, it seems that turned out to be a great idea.

Just a word about the locals - naturally they were concerned about property damage, but I found them accepting, even curious. And I had never seen nor tasted fruits and vegetables as marvelous as those in town and in the camp.

Dan

posted 3 years, 4 months ago
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Part 1 of 2

Hello Everyone -

The summer of 1970, a good friend of mine and I took a six week trip  from Asheville North Carolina. I had just graduated from UNC Chapel Hill and we wanted to tour some state and national parks and I wanted to gain some, ahem, experience.  We were in San Francisco when we heard about Vortex 1 and so we made a detour and arrived about six or seven days before the festival actually opened.  The day we arrived there were perhaps two thousand people there.

I have several distinct memories of it, which is surprising since I was high on something virtually all of that time.

One memory was that of a black guy we met in San Fran, fresh out of San Quentin who, lacking a car and money, somehow managed to greet us at the gate, a jug of red wine in his hands.

As I remember it, the crowd consisted of migrant farm workers, returning Viet Nam vets, motorcycle gangs, and various younger aged people - some college but dominated by a lot of West Coast anti-establishment types and locals.

The edgy, "we are stardust" vibe seemed about 5 to 10 years ahead of anything I'd seen on the East Coast. I never saw any violence at all, but people seemed to camp with like-minded folk.

I wasn't there very long before a smiling girl about my age popped a microdot into my mouth, the first of many. Pot, hash, mushrooms and acid (Blue Cheer, LSD-25 microdots, pretty pure stuff) were the dominant drugs, but the Vets seems to have a good deal of heroin as well; there was even a little opium around.

There was a great deal of nudity for sure and pot, of course.  You'd be walking along the ridge, your eyes would meet someone’s, and the next thing you'd know, you'd be smoking a joint and talking about where you were from, politics and the like.  This happened over and over again.

In preparation for my West Coast adventure, I read "Electric Kool Aid Acid Test".  While I did not see the Merry Pranksters for sure, I did see a brightly painted school bus with a jet canopy fastened to the roof and heard talk of Wavy Gravy.

I remember watching from afar a gathering of mostly Vets and their girlfriends around a huge bonfire.  One guy pulled down his pants to reveal tattoos on each buttock with the words "Twin Screws" etched beneath.

part 1 of 2

posted 3 years, 4 months ago
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