12-28-06 Deadman,Geoff

I was working at my bench the day before Christmas when a guy that was camped across the way from me, came up and wanted to visit. He was drinking a beer and he was a little tipsy but not too bad. He was wearing a Viet Nam Vet head band and decked out in jungle fatigues. He was really nice and introduced himself as Cherokee and he was working with a guy named Doc, and was going to be a security guard at a display of the ‘Wall’. This Wall is supposed to be 4/5ths scale model and is going to be set up in a park here in Quartzite along with some other Veterans goings on to honor them. He said he had just got out of the hospital down in Phoenix and that the cop had brought him back to camp the other day. I had seen a cop car come out and stop across the way but hadn’t thought too much about it. It is always best not to interfere with cop business I figure. He mentioned that he had been in the hospital because he was thinking of killing himself. He sure didn’t seem depressed and was in good spirits, but that could have been the beer acting, who knows? He mentioned that he had a friend camping with him over at the pickup and the guy was drinking Jack Daniels. He said he didn’t drink the hard stuff and got along good with just beer. We talked a little bit and when he found out I worked silver he wanted to look at some. He is the only person that has looked at my stuff and identified it as pure or  .999 Fine silver. He asked me if he got a military Kabar knife, would I make a silver plate with Doc on it and attach it to the knife. He wanted to so something special for his friend Doc who was one of the head guys on this Viet Nam Wall thing. I told him if he brought me a knife I would look at it and see if I could.

It was just after sunset that both of the guys showed up at camp. They wanted to be sure I was aware of the great sunset and we stood out there and watched it finally fade to gray. His friends name was Mike I think it was and he was pretty screwed up and could hardly stand even though he was using a cane. Cherokee was totally armed to the teeth. He had a 45 colt on the hip and had a two foot machete on the other hip as well as what looked like a 9mm pistol tucked in his shirt about mid chest. I have never seen any one do that before but he wasn’t threatening at all in his manner and I don’t mind guys with guns, but I will admit that I don’t particularly like a drunk with a gun. Mike said he was going to get a new knee sometime soon and I imagine it was VA related as I think they met each other at the hospital down in Phoenix. They finally wandered on back over to their camp. They were just sleeping in a pickup and the night before I could see that they had the lights on probably with the motor running to keep warm. It wasn’t that cold but just sitting in a pickup trying to sleep I would imagine was not that comfy.

After they left I got busy and cooked supper and was sitting around fiddling with the computer when I heard some yelling. I stuck my head out and could hear yelling across the way. My ears are so bad I couldn’t understand what was happening but I sure didn’t want to go over there and see what was happening and tucked myself back in the pod. It wasn’t too long until another guy across the way (Cherokee and Mike’s neighbor) went flying out of camp in his little jeep. Everybody goes real slow through the campground and I figured he must have gotten scared or something and blasted out to go get help calming the activity next to his camp. It seemed like only a few minutes when there was a huge flash of lights and the jeep came back followed by three cop cars. There was a lot of activity over there but I stayed out of it for sure. I did notice that two ambulances finally showed up and even a wrecker. There were a few other cars that came and went but I finally went to bed and slept though what ever else happened.

In the morning, everything was quiet and there didn’t seem to be anything over at their camp as the pickup was gone. I went out in the desert to offer a turd to the desert (as I squatted there enjoying the morning sun and trying to not focus on how the knee I just had surgery on was not liking it, a coyote came crushing by, maybe 20 feet away, he wasn’t concerned at all that I was pooping in his yard) and made my way back to my camp via a round a bout way by their old camp. The place was a mess with beer cans and some garbage strewn around. I went over to the neighbor guy with the jeep to ask if he would take the garbage to town if I went over and picked it up. He told me that one of the guys killed himself last night!!!!!! Holy shit! I never did hear a shot but evidently he just pulled out a pistol and shot himself, or at least that is the story that Mike told the cops. I got a trash bag from the guy and went over and started picking up the beer cans and garbage. The whole crew around here showed up, well the men of the group did, the women stayed in their motor homes. I have a bunch of Canadians I am camped with over here on ‘my’ side. They were really nice and helped clean up too. When I found one of the beers to be still full I asked if anyone wanted a ‘dead mans’ beer. Nobody did but I thought there was something special about it so I put it in my pocket and brought it back to camp. I wasn’t going to drink it, I was sure, but there was something about that beer my new, late, little friend never got to drink.

It was interesting that when one of the guys picked up a dozen eggs and found that it was full, he said that since they were just eggs they should be ok and to not waste them. Humm, how is a dead mans eggs different than a dead mans beer? I will have to think on that one for a while…….

I got dressed in my ridding gear and took a little ride because it was just such a nice day. The desert was beautiful and I had a really nice ride. I stopped in Bouse to eat some lunch and this guy rolled up. His bike has 206,000 miles and it was sure well taken care of. He was a little strange as maybe we all BMW riders are.

There is a nice little rest area that the vets have made right along the highway in town.

I took a series of dirt roads out east of Bouse and ended up someplace down the highway south of Bouse. It was a great ride and the gravel roads in Arizona are as good as I remembered. This section of road is what I call a ditch road. Notice how the dirt if just plowed of to the side and it makes almost a canal. When it rains they are a canal.

 I ran across this canal that is the Arizona Aqueduct system.  There is a lot of water that comes down this ditch.

I went past some orchards that I think are olives. The trees seem to have been mechanically trimmed like hedges.

When I got back out on the highway I saw this stuff along the road and at first thought ‘damn, someone threw out a bunch of toilet paper’ but no, it is raw cotton bolls that must have blown off a wagon taking bales of cotton to a gin someplace.

This was now Christmas afternoon and one of the Canadian guys name of Harold came over and invited me to come down for Christmas dinner.

The Canadian camps.

These Canadians were well set up for luxury camping. We had turkey, dressing, mashed spuds, gravy, cranberries, and the usual other stuff and toped it off with pumpkin pie. I was sure pleased to be invited and really enjoyed the food and company. After supper they started a big fire and we all sat around watching the fire. I walked over to get my little folding chair from camp and this jeep thing pulled up and there was a bearded guy in viet nam vet clothes that asked if I knew anything about what happened here the night before. He said his name was Doc and he was a friend of Cherokee!! I told him all that had happened that day and what I had found out from the other guys. This was the Doc that Cherokee had wanted me to do the silver inlay for. He was a really nice guy as was his wife and they were sure sad to loose a good friend. I told Doc, “wait, I have something that Cherokee left for you” and went and got the beer can. Jeez, he almost broke down in tears……. He was very appreciative and said it would go on a special shelf to remind him of Cherokee.

 I went back over and sat watching the fire and thinking. Someone commented on how zoned I was watching the fire. Well, hell, they built a huge fire and a person better watch it.  I told everyone that I was expecting a friend to show up on his motorcycle probably that night and sure enough Geoff came in late.

We went on over to my camp and he was zoned as he had traveled over 700 miles that day from someplace down in Mexico. He had been ridding down in the Sierra Madre (the Mother Mountains) He was starving and I handed him a sandwich I had made earlier that I was going to have for Christmas supper. It was a cube stake with melted high grade extra sharp cheddar cheese and grilled green peppers, on whole wheat. I don’t think he was impressed but he was hungry. I told him it was too bad he didn’t show up sooner as he could have eaten Canadian Christmas. He wasn’t amused.

Geoff wanted to go for a ride the next morning so I lashed on my knee brace and we headed off in the north east direction past Bouse and on to a little ghost town and old mining site called Swansea. It was pretty good gravel road on over there and the desert was wonderful.

I wasn’t impressed with the town and mining area as it has been ‘developed’ for tourist by the blm and other government folks. There was a handout brochure that showed all the interesting sites as well as the roads, so we each grabbed on of those from the stand and charged off on one of the little roads. We were immediately lost and struggled along in deep sand washes and very rough cat cut dirt roads. It is a good thing I had that knee brace on as I would have torn my lower leg off one time for sure and another time it would have hurt it really bad I am sure. Hey, that thousand dollar brace works!!! I need to write that brace guy a thank you note.

We made it on down to the Bill Williams River where Geoff was brave enough to strip and take a bath in the little stream. I worked on re-attaching my windshield that had gotten knocked off its mounting pins in one of the rough stretches. Geoff is a city guy and seems to need a shower or bath quite regular. I try not to get wet as much as I can.

Gee, it is too bad I didn’t get a photo of some of those sand washes that were just pure spooky to travel. We both had a rough time going in it but that little blood hound did so much better than Geoff’s big R100GS/PD that he would have me (with the bad knee…) scout on ahead and see if there was a way through the wash and see if the road came out of it onto good ground. Darn little bloodhound can sure sniff a good trail. To tell the truth I was ready to turn around and head back the way we had come even though it meant going back through all that shit. Geoff turned historian and told how General Grant never did turn back as he had a phobia about it. Hell, I aint Grant and I don’t have phobia’s about calling it quits if the going gets rough, but darn if he didn’t talk me into charging on ahead and we did finally find a nice gravel road to get back home on. That road isn’t on any map we had, just lucky I guess.

While sitting around in the evening somehow the subject of guns came up and he said “why don’t you get out a 45 or something?”. OK I said a and drug out a pistol. He was amazed! City folk don’t have guns in California anymore I guess. Well, to be fair, he is from back east and they may not have them back there. He had a 22 rifle when he was a kid but had never shot a 45 before. I only carry two clips for it and I didn’t have any target rounds so the next day we tooled into town and found a hardware store where he could buy a box of ammo. He said you have to have a permit to buy ammo in Chicago and he didn’t think we could buy ammo here in AZ. Well, there is nothing to it, just hand over the cash, or credit card. We loaded up the 45 and my little S&W 22 target pistol and headed out into the desert with a couple of cans for targets. I usually only shoot a few rounds at paper targets but Geoff had a blast shooting the cans and some white rocks that I put on some boulders for targets. I only shot either of them a clips worth, and that is always fun.

Geoff had lost a valve on one cylinder and had to replace the cylinder and head. When he did that he put in new high compression pistons as well as new high compression head gaskets. He didn’t use the copper RTV silicone sealant when he put the gaskets on and his heads were showing some leaking from the head gaskets.

I had a chance to give his purple dog a ride and it sure was like my big old yellow dog. They are so big compared to the bloodhound. They sure have more snap, but I still like the little bike better I think especially for just knocking around. There is no doubt that the big bike is better for long distance cursing and packing more weight.

Geoff got up early and left this morning just before sunrise. He has about 600 miles to get back home to Silicone Valley area around San Jose. I eased around camp in the morning and went into town in the afternoon to see if I could find a spring that I needed that would help hold up my center stand. The darn spring got knocked off when I hit a huge pot hole in pavement at a truck stop. We were going through that truck stop when a major wind storm was going through. The dust kicked up from the parking lot and it was hard to see but maybe 20 feet. I didn’t have a chance to dodge the hole even though I saw Geoff hit it ahead of me. I stopped at a couple of places and finally found a couple of springs that will work for a while until I get some replacements and get the mounting hole welded back on.

I also stopped at a couple of places to see if I could find some earring findings. I somehow didn’t load up some of my silver parts when I left camp. I finally found a guy that has a repair shop located in a residential area. One shop keeper called him when he didn’t have what I needed. It turned out that it was a really nice place and both he and his wife were very nice folks. I had a good time visiting with them and it turns out they both had little Honda 90’s and loved to prowl the desert. He actually sold me some of his personal stash as he usually doesn’t sell findings. He had to come out and look at the bloodhound and liked to talk bikes.

After I got home I happened to notice a little Scamp trailer just like the one that Tom and Karen had bought just across the way, over where Cherokee did himself in. There was no vehicle over there that towed it in so I waited to see if they would show up. It was just getting dark and I decided to walk over and see if it was Tom’s trailer. I could see that it wasn’t theirs as this one wsa looking a little rough with the sun and weather.

This is just like Tom’s I think, or at least the same size. I was just taking a photo of it when a guy pulls up in a pickup and catches me taking a picture!! Well, I had to explain my self and it turns out he is a pretty cool guy I think. He said he doesn’t usually camp in such a place and is usually hidden out in the desert some place where no one can see him. Humm, sounds familiar eh??

We talked for a bit and it will be interesting to see if we get a chance to visit again. He likes the pod and tells of some really cold times he and his wife had up in Montana one winter. Seems like they woke up with their hair frozen to the side walls of the trailer. He said it could get cold in there. They call it the ‘cube’ as in ice cube…. I asked if he had a heater and he said yes. Humm, hear that Tom????

I need to go down and check out what is on display in Quartzite, I don’t mean shop, I mean just look around. I will try to remember to bring my  camera and get a few shots of the action. Some of the booths are set up but there are a lot of them that are just starting to get set up. They say that things don’t get really rolling until after the first and then some say it takes longer than that.