Traveling through California and Oregon listening to the music of Woody Guthrie on the occasion of the 100th anniversary or his birth, July 12, 1912 was a completely serendipitous event. I had no knowledge of the date beforehand, but when I turned on the radio, and I heard Woody's travelin' music, I was elated and sure it was a sign that our trip would be rewarding. Woody had lived in both California where he had a radio program and in Oregon, where he wrote many of his most well-known songs. Our trip began when we arrived by plane in San Francisco and had dinner at a Greek restaurant in San Mateo before heading down to Santa Cruz. Woody may not have related to the upscale beach condos in Santa Cruz but would have liked the boardwalk amusement park under the gory gaze of two Gargoyles. He also would have loved the farmer's market on a terraced hillside near the University of California at Santa Cruz. On our travels we saw farmer's markets in almost every city we visited, a homegrown, ground up movement (no pun intended) to provide healthy locally grown food.
The following day we enjoyed a drive down to Big Sur and all the riches the California coast has to offer, stopping to visit the wharf in Monterey and an afternoon reminiscing with John Steinbeck on Cannery Row. Woody was able to see the movie the Grapes of Wrath, based on Steinbeck's novel, and he captured its essence in his song, The Ballad of Tom Joad. Guthrie, in his own plain style, also wrote about seeing the film in one of his columns for the People's World, praising its directness: "... Shows the damn bankers men that broke us and the dust that choked us, and comes right out in plain old English and says what to do about it." Guthrie urged his readers to go see the film. "... You was the star in that picture," he wrote, meaning his everyman readers. "Go and see your own self and hear your own words... "1
Later Bruce Springsteen wrote the song, the Ghost of Tom Joad focusing on the lives of steel workers, immigrants and migrant workers in the late 20th century. Bruce said of Woody, "To me, Woody Guthrie was that sense of idealism along with a sense of realism that said maybe you can't save the world, but you can change the world." We had only to turn on the car radio and hear about the current economic situation, supreme court rulings on immigration, and complaints about the banking industry to appreciate the timeless quality of Woody's words.
Next we traveled to Yosemite to enjoy the spectacular views and trek up the John Muir Trail. John Muir was a Scottish-born American naturalist, author, and early advocate of preservation of wilderness in the United States. His activism helped to save the Yosemite Valley, Sequoia National Park and other wilderness areas. The Sierra Club, which he founded, is now one of the most important conservation organizations in the United States. One of the most well-known hiking trails in the U.S., the 211-mile John Muir Trail, was named in his honor.2
In 1966 the United States Department of the Interior gave Woody Guthrie 'The Conservation Service Award' in recognition of his life-long efforts to make the American people `aware of their heritage and the land. While this and other songs may do just that, they also decry the ills of a Capitalistic society that treated "the people", be they migrants, farm laborers, or Mexican immigrants, unjustly. The granting of the Conservation Award, and even the popularity of This Land Is Your Land is testament to Woody's songwriting genius, but they are also symptomatic of a gross over-simplification of the meaning and significance of his work." 3 Reading further, I learned that Woody was protesting a specific event of 1936 when he was kept out of Los Angeles along with other migrant workers. Those who identify him with Communism are mistaken as he was a chronicler of historic events in this country's history and specifically a folk singer. As such he fought against instances of injustice and greed.
Back at Yosemite, we were viewing the world from the back of a mule on the John Muir trail at a height of several thousand feet. The Asian man behind me on the trail wanted to move in front of me to be close to his eleven year old son. It was fine with me but not my mule. He bit the mule that had usurped his position and was kicked in return. Feeling that this was not the place for petty bickering, and with my left foot hanging over the edge of the canyon, I tried to urge him back toward the inside of the trail but to no avail. He seemed to prefer the outer edge. He also seemed to appreciate the view and would frequently stand on the edge and stare out. I couldn't blame him as it was breathtaking, but I didn't realize until then that mule riding could be an extreme sport. Three quarters of the way down the son's mule slipped, and the boy went flying off. His sudden departure from his saddle was a realization of all our worst fears. Fortunately he landed on the inside of the trail, and his father thanked me again for having let his mule move ahead of mine. We all breathed a sigh of relief when the kid got back on his mule with only a sprained wrist and some minor scratches.
Our travel plans took us to June Lake, appropriately named because it is usually impassable before June due to snow. Thanks to the short-term advantages of global warming, the road was clear, although the streams were still cascading down the mountain sides fed by the melting snow on the mountain tops. Another beautiful view awaited us as we drove into the town and saw the clear mountain lake. We enjoyed a wonderful dinner at the local tavern and decided to move to June Lake as soon as possible. The next morning we traveled to Mono Lake and learned about its geological history. I hoped the thirsty Californians would drink more wine so the water level of the lake could be restored. Mark Twain had once visited and called it a dead lake. Roughing It, published in 1872, provides a humorous and informative early description of Mono Lake in its natural condition in the 1860s. Twain found the lake to be a "lifeless, treeless, hideous desert... the loneliest place on earth."4
He was dead wrong as the lake was teaming with life in the form of brine shrimp, and migratory birds. The native Kutzadika'a people, Kutzadika'a meaning fly larva eaters, derived nutrition from the larvae of the alkaline flies that live in the lake. We viewed a movie of them panning for fly larvae with sieve like baskets, and were thankful for our jar of peanuts. And on the subject of subsistence, NASA recently discovered arsenic-eating bacteria in the lake that would constitute the first life form capable of replacing one of the six essential elements (carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, nitrogen, sulfur and phosphorus) in its biomolecules. Discoveries such as this provide yet another reason to preserve and protect our national and state parks.
We spent a brief time in Bodie which Woody would probably not have loved. Although some hard ramblin' and hard gamblin' was goin' on during the gold rush days, the prospectors were a greedy lot and Woody hated greed. In 1879 Bodie boasted a population of about 10,000 and was second to none for wickedness, badmen, and the "worst climate out-of-doors." Killings occurred sometimes on a daily basis. A couple of residents pulled out $90,000 in gold in ninety days. Now a ghost town, but filled with tourists, Bodie is a great historic stop.
On to Lassen Volcanic National Park, home to smoking fumaroles, meadows freckled with wildflowers, clear mountain lakes, and numerous volcanoes. The dominant feature of the park is Lassen Peak, the largest plug dome volcano in the world and the southern-most volcano in the Cascade Range. The Lassen area was also a meeting point for at least four American Indian groups: Atsugewi, Yana, Yahi, and Maidu. A Yahi Indian named Ishi turned up in Oroville, Calif. in 1911. He had never mixed with whites before, and his tribe was thought to be nonexistent. He lived out his days at the Anthropology Museum of the University of California Affiliated Colleges on Parnassus Heights in San Francisco (now the site of the University of California San Francisco), where he was treated with respect and was an invaluable ethnological source. Ishi was considered at that time as the last Stone Age survivor in the United States. He died in 1916 of tuberculosis. In the coffin were placed one of his bows, five pieces of dentalium, a box full of shell bead money which he had saved, a purse full of tobacco, three rings, and some obsidian flakes, all of which we felt sure would be in accord with Ishi's wishes..5 We could feel the presence of the former Native Americans in this high place that they still use for ceremonial meetings. A few snowfields on the mountain tops have survived the early hot weather.
We arrived in Portland, Oregon for a different kind of experience. My stepson Tony, showed us around town via the microbreweries, and introduced us to several new craft beers, ciders, and sour beers, raspberry being my favorite. We rented a tandem and rode on the waterfront to the Saturday market which is also on Sunday. The waterfront was crammed with booths selling delicious food and a variety of arts and crafts. We noticed a number of unusual methods of transportation in addition to our tandem bike such as stilts, skate boards, and bounce shoes. Proponents of various causes from legalized hemp to Planned Parenthood and voter registration were on hand to sell their ideological wares. The Japanese garden, listed as a number one attraction in the tour books, lived up to its billing. I thought it would be hard to compete with the splendor of the natural landscape, but it was a microcosm of tranquil beauty with every leaf and stone in its perfect place. A family of ducklings enhanced the photo opportunities.
Attending a Quaker un-programmed meeting on Sunday, and hearing people speak about the issue of global warming as well as God's acceptance of us as flawed humans topped off our experience in Portland. I loved the mention of process theology which believes we have a hand in the creation and that what we do matters. Woody's philosophy that, "a folk song is what's wrong and how to fix it" permeated his songs and his life. He was an inspiration for future writers and activists and for all of us. We couldn't miss the famous Powell Book store where I picked up The Alchemist, by Paul Coelho about discovering one's personal destiny and omens along the way as one travels through the world. This was another serendipitous find and a good omen for our trip. Last but not least we had to see the Columbia River which Woody made so famous in his song, Roll on Columbia, Roll On. The song became famous as an anthem about American public works projects arising out of the New Deal in the Great Depression, and is one of the most popular songs in the history of the United States. It is the official folk song of the State of Washington.6
On our trip down the coast on US Route 101 and later California State Route 1, I discovered not only some information about some long-lost relatives, but a realization of the deeper meaning or our journey. In Port Orford, a small artistic fishing village on the coast of southern Oregon which has been little changed by time and the tourist industry, we found evidence of two of our relatives, bachelor brothers who owned a sawmill there and had lived into their 90's. We were not sure if they were still alive, but searched around in the cemetery at dusk, and finally found their grave stones near the forest where they had apparently spent their lives. I thought of Woody's song, I ain't got no home in this World Anymore which applied to the dust bowl migrants, but could also apply to Vance and Hughes, a pair of old Paul Bunyuns in Oregon. A trip to the only late night tavern turned up some information about the town historian. The next morning we visited him in his restaurant on the edge of town and learned that he had been a good friend of the two brothers. He gave us a photo of one dancing with his girlfriend and said they were really great guys although a little eccentric. We went on our way down the coast feeling a new appreciation for the kindness of strangers. Woody would have liked Port Orford.
At Fort Ross Historic Park on the Sonoma Coast, we experienced North America's southernmost Russian-American settlement. The Russians lived relatively peacefully with the native Pomo people, and enjoyed their sojourn until they were called back to Russia. The village was multicultural for at least thirty years including not only Russians but Siberians, Alaskans, Hawaiians, Californians, Europeans, and Native Americans. Industries included farming, hunting, blacksmithing, tanning, brickmaking, barrel making and shipbuilding. Seeing the old cedar buildings with their onion domes on the windswept coast was quite amazing.
After tramping through the redwood forests with eyes to the heavens, we headed on down Route 1 late at night with the benefit a full moon. We drove several hours expecting to stop at various towns on the map, but when we arrived, they were closed for the night. We finally found a hotel lit up like it might be in a horror movie. Since we had already driven several hours we decided to stop. Instead of an ax murderer we found a friendly proprietor who invited us in and told us to relax a little. He served us chocolate cake still warm from the oven, giving us another dose of friendly hospitality. The last night of our trip was spent viewing the fireworks over the bay in San Francisco, a spectacular display and affirmation of our country's independence. The beauty of the landscape and the kindness of strangers made our "hard travelin" much easier. Woody would have said, "From the Red Wood forests to the Gulf Stream waters, this land was made for you and me".
A folk song is what's wrong and how to fix it or it could be
who's hungry and where their mouth is or
who's out of work and where the job is or
who's broke and where the money is or who's carrying a gun and where the peace is. - WG
1 Jack Doyle, "Steinbeck to Springsteen, 1939-2006,"
PopHistoryDig.com, March 29, 2008.
2 Wenk, Elizabeth; Morey, Kathy (2007). John Muir Trail: The Essential Guide to Hiking America's Most Famous Trail. Berkeley, CA: Wilderness Press
3 Edwin Cohen, Woody Guthrie And The American Folk Song (University of Southern California, 1971) 179.
4 Harris, S.L. (2005). Fire Mountains of the West: The Cascade and Mono Lake Volcanoes. Mountain Press.
5 http://history.library.ucsf.edu/ishi.html
6 Roll on Columbia: Woody Guthrie & the Bonneville Power Administration. VHS, University of Oregon.
Sylvia Andrews is an author of art related books, children's and young adult books and travel articles. Books include Black Jaguar, Green Jade about a young girls adventures on an archaeological dig in Belize, Indianapolis Murals, Outside Public Art, Ivan the Terrible Cat, and Song of Choson.
http://www.sylvanartspress.com/
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