Miles Traveled: 417 Location: North side of Grants Pass in Southern Oregon along I-5
Least we forget: It is nice to read through a travel log and see the neat things going on in the here and there. However, this is about women and children in the jails and prisons of the nation. There are more than 2.7 million children who have at least one parent in prison. We are not counting the jails. Chances are that if it is their mother, there is less than 10 percent of a chance that she is married. Chances are that in an average of a 5 year sentence, less than 50 percent will have the opportunity to visit with their mother. Twenty-five years ago, there were 1 in 125 children that had a parent in prison. Today it works out to 1 in 25. Don’t know that there is anything else to say, “Houston, we of have a problem./a.”
Mt. Shasta: There is no way that a photo could capture the intensity or majesty of being in the open air on a motorcycle and coming around a corner and seeing Mt. Shasta brave and bold at the end of a tunnel vision. This vision is heightened by what I would call the blinding white of the snow. The second thing that happened once I got it together again was a trip back to January or so of 1962 when I was loaded on a troop transport to begin what was to be a four year tour of duty in the Far East culminated with a tour in Vietnam. The first item I bought in the ship’s PX was a Shasta Cola and wondered just who would name a soda pop after a mountain. I attributed this foolishness to something in the water of California.
No Name Mountain: This is another one of the those images that was just breath taking on the motorcycle. As I remember, when going around the left side of it, the lava trails were very apparent from who knows how many decades past. We started out the day in Nevada City with leather jackets and glade we had them. By the time we got into northern California it was back to tee shirts. Travel in the open air with mother nature flowing into every poor of your body is an experience that I had not felt in I don’t know how many years that must border on decades.
Logging Truck: It was not long after the second mountain was past my vision that I came upon this logging truck on a 6% down hill grade. The first thoughts that passed through my mind were most unzen in nature and soon past. I have never been an eco-terrorist but at that moment of my life came as close to being one as I have ever experienced. I have been in the open air of the motorcycle traveling the highways and byways of the country and in the process have developed an appreciation for the land as I have never experienced in my life. On a parallel track, I have also experienced appreciation for people or maybe better said ‘humanity.’ There is the reptile and social parts of our brain that in theory are supposed to work together but it seems as if seldom is that the case. Hence, you have the logging trucks and mountains and our race, culture or whatever you want to call it is doing a fine job raping both of them.
Nevada City: Like the logging truck above, Nevada City was about the rape of the land. Only it happened circa 1850 with the gold rush. However, unlike the logging truck, it has evolved into a very spiritual and artistic community. I am told the buildings downtown are preserved in their original structure from their 1850 foundations.