Day 7. Eugene to Ashland.

Day 7.
We packed down our hilltop castle, hiked to the village & mingled with the cretins. Ate peanut butter & carrots & then caught a lift with Mara, who Paul met & organised to ride with on Craigslist. Perfect! No disdaining looks. No sunburnt dome. Just sit, chill, meet, ride. The new generation is so much smarter. Oh how hope for the future abounds.
We lay in our travel pod in the back of the van, on a bed, three abroad. I’m not sure Paul was so keen to be that affectionate after being with me 24/6, but he did so with true monk like valour.

We pulled in to Ashland & learned from a VW Vanagon restorer that there were hot springs in town & camping on the shores of the pool.
Nudity was a concern for Paul’s saintly mind, but he concluded we need to be in the world, if not of it. So, along with Dan, another new generation hitch-hiker who was with us in the van, we set up camp.
Paul managed to sweet talk an earth lover with his explanation of what we’re doing & how tight things are & got our camp fees at half price. (I don’t care what anyone says. I believe it was all in his pitch & has nothing to do with him being a tall, dark ex model.)
If you’ve never had the experience of a weeks bathing with baby wipes, then the sheer joy of being immersed in warm water will be lost to you. Those of you who are baby wipe showerers, we strongly recommend a hot tub bath from time to time, if for nothing else, just for the thrill of it.
We soaked & learned about the health benefits of drinking water than smells like the digestive system’s response to so many eggs & beans. (Sulphur water was all that was available at the camp.)
The following shower was of equivalent bliss as a 12 mile snowboard run in untracked fresh powder. Well… maybe 2 miles. It was good.


We cooked & ate, my tent perhaps feeling a little insignificant nestled between two large tepees, but we reassured it as best we could, climbed inside &
sleep enveloped us like a fat lady’s bosom envelops a small, newly found child.