Pilgrimage to Black Butte

After San Fran we drove up the coast on the PCH until we got to Bodega Bay. There is a campground there on a spit of land that shelters the town from the open Pacific. Ranger Ted was kind enough to give us a campsite for free ($18.00 savings), and cheerfully announced that he did not have any other tattooed visitors in his campground. He was a cool guy but seemed a bit too carefree to be a ranger for the Forest Circus. The next morning we cut inland and headed for Weed, CA.

My friend North Bank Fred lives there. Fred is a freight rider that has settled down somewhat but is still in touch with the scene. He has the biggest archive online of anything and everything related to riding freight trains. A journey to Black Butte and Dunsmuir is a must for any rider, it's on par with making the hajj for a muslim. It must be done at least once.
On our way up into the sierras we stopped at Shasta Lake where we hopped in the lake to cool off. After a while of wandering around we found a rope swing hanging over the lake. This kept us occupied for some time. I jumped off it twice, the second time somewhat precarious in execution, I almost landed too close to shore, but got lucky.





Upon arrival in Weed, Fred took us out to the Black Butte siding where the hobo jungle is. The reception commenced with the three of us sitting in the jungle drinking White Port (or White Puke as the kids call it) and swapping stories. We camped there next to the tracks for two nights with a robust fire going and freights rolling by at night. This jungle is historic as it has been here since the 1910's at least. The old water tower at the siding is covered with old hobo monikers and after looking around the oldest one we found was from August 1931, marked by Lonesome Pete.

At night we went out and streaked our own monikers on the boxcars parked on the siding. The second night we got visitors rolling into camp around 10pm. It was Joey Alone and some girl he had picked up in St. Louis. They had just come from Toronto on CN down to Seattle and then on down to Eugene. Stuck in Eugene, they decided to hitchhike down to Dunsmuir, but got a ride to Weed instead. The conversation was cautious at first, but they both warmed up after they learned why we were there and that I also rode.

The second day at the Black Butte jungle we hiked up to the top of Black Butte itself, an endeavour that took us almost five hours total. It was totally worth it though, what's really crazy is that you can see Mt. Hood some 300 miles to the north in Oregon from the top...


after that we went and laid around in Siskiyou Lake to cool off.
There I encountered a kid with what appeared to be a broken arm. I asked what happened and he said I fell off a rope swing... I called his folks for him and they said they would come pick him up. Next day we took off for the coast again to see the redwoods of northern California.



MOVIE CLIPS:

Rope swing

Rope swing redux

Laying down the streaks

THE GOODS:

North Bank Fred