There was Steve, me, Steve's friend sitting next to me
(I can't remember his name for the life of me), and Steve's
girlfriend, Reggie, who's on the bike w/Steve in the second photo.
We travelled in Steve's VW bus, pulling his Harley on a trailer behind
us! I think that's a perfect symbol for Steve. He was so gentle
while fancying himself to be so fierce.
In the first photo, we are in Montana, at Lost Lake (?) Ranch.
It was owned by Reggie's uncle, who was not happy to have
a band of scruffy hippies visiting his ranch. He had no idea
his beautiful, smart niece from Radcliffe, had turned into a lefty,
hippy, ne'er-do-well. Remember, it was early in the story of the
culture wars.
Upon first arrival, as we exited the bus, Steve said Reggie's uncle
took him aside and said in no uncertain terms:
"I have a fourteen year old daughter, and if you or your friends offer
her drugs, I'll kill you!"
It was a very uncomfortable moment. He let us know that the men
and women would be staying in separate quarters, and then, as I recall,
took us to a huge field of hay bails. We were asked to walk behind a pickup
truck and lift the heavy bails up to a waiting cowboy, who stacked them in
the bed of the truck. It took a couple of hours to load all the bails, and by
the end, our hands were blistered from the ropes that held the bails together.
We were very hot and tired.
Happily, Reggie's uncle was impressed by our hard work and invited us to dinner.
We feasted on home made everything. The family was amazing. They grew their
own food, both animal and vegetable. It was my first experience of this kind of life,
and I loved every aspect of it.
I think we stayed nearly two weeks. I got up every morning at five and rode
the range with cowboy Bob. He couldn't believe that a college girl could ride
a horse so well.
The family grew to love us. We worked hard every day, and at dinnertime,
we naively carried on about such things as geodesic domes, the war, and
dreams of living a life governed by right livelihood. I think they were sad
to see us go.
We pushed on, searching for Hole in the Wall. As you know, Steve was in
love with the outlaws. We risked life and limb trespassing on miles and
miles of big sky country dirt roads, camouflaged by that damn bike dragging
behind us. We slept on the ground, underneath the stars and surrounded by
cattle, when we got caught by the night and couldn't turn our wagon train around.
It was both wonderful and scary. Steve was our captain and insisted we get to the
end of the canyon.
We never found that illusive hole in the wall, but for one brief shinning moment,
we were Butch Cassidy and the Sundance kids.
And so it was in the long ago.
Much love to you my dear.
How I wish he were still here.
Johanna
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