Trailways Koan: The Conclusion

Part Two of the cross-country bus trip I took when I was 17 years old

The first part of this story can be found at this link: Trailways Koan Part I

I decided to take the bus straight through the Midwest into the Rocky Mountains. In Denver, there was a connecting bus to Estes Park, 90 minutes to the northwest, and hitchhike to the national park near there. The trip from Chicago was a blur of highways, corn and wheat fields, and burger joints rest stops. I probably smoked two packs of cigarettes as we crossed Illinois, Iowa, Nebraska, and climbed the mountains in Colorado to Denver. The only thing I remember standing in the aisle in front talking to a vegetarian girl who told me, earnestly and sincerely, that there was five pounds of undigested meat in everyone’s intestines. That didn’t deter me from my cheeseburger and chocolate shake travel diet.

Continental Trailways 85816 4-1-1978 John LeBeau

Arriving in the Mile High City there was a long wait for the bus to Estes Park, Colorado. I locked my pack in a locker at the bus station and wandered around the broad empty sidewalks downtown. I passed the United States Mint and was impressed, even though I was no longer a numismatist. I pondered Neal Cassady (Dean Moriarty in On The Road and driver of Ken Kesey’s psychedelic bus trip) as I walked. He had lived in Denver flophouses with his alcoholic father and stole cars during his youth. I’d learned this after reading his autobiography. I returned to the bus station, started reading Childhood’s End, and smoked until the departure time.

It wasn’t a long ride to Estes Park, about two hours. I got there in the late afternoon and caught a ride with some older dude who wished me luck camping as he dropped me at the entrance of Rocky Mountain National Park in the dusk. As I hiked in looking for a suitable campsite it grew darker and darker. I decided to sleep next to a rock wall I found not far from the park’s entrance. It was pitch dark. At dawn I awoke looking out over a cliff. In the dark I hadn’t seen it. I could have rolled over during the night and fallen off!

In the early morning, as I followed the trail out, I saw two men and two women. They were dancing in a circle and appeared elfin to me from a distance. One of the women wore a long diaphanous pastel green dress. I heard laughter as I passed them. On reflection, probably just some tripping stoned hippies camping out as I had.

Putting my thumb out I caught a ride in a van with some Jesus freaks who were cool about it. They dropped me at a small grassy park in town and I read the rest of Arthur C. Clarke’s novel while waiting for the bus back to Denver.

I visited the Haight and bought an old poster of a Jefferson Airplane show for $10. I drank in the seedy hotel bar every night. I had a sushi dinner with a former school counselor of mine in a Japan Town restaurant.

From there I headed north to visit Eugene, Oregon because my hero, Ken Kesey, lived nearby on a farm in the Willamette Valley. While there I was amazed by the beauty of the nearby rivers and forests. The people I met there were easy-going, unlike New Yorkers. I liked it and decided that if I were to attend college it would be in the Bay Area or Eugene.

The first thing I did when I was in my room was to put Highway 61 Revisited on the turntable and play “Just Like Tom Thumb’s Blues”. The stereo effect, the tremolo guitar vibrating, transported me to a strange place, it was like I’d never heard the song before. “I’m going back to New York City, I do believe I’ve had enough,” made me want to cry. That trip proved something, some bravery, some kind of courage, to face the future and recreate myself. I found solace.