1 ... Gabriel Morris“Hey, you aren’t about to camp back in those woods, are you?”
he said.
“Well, yeah...” I said tentatively. “Someone told me this was a
good spot. Why, is camping here illegal or something?”
“Oh, no, it’s a designated camping area alright. But it’s about the
worst place you could choose to camp out right now. The mosqui-
toes are horrible this time of year. As you can see, they’re already
getting pretty bad, and once that sun goes down, they’ll practically
eat you alive...But hey, if you need a place to sleep, you could stay
up at our place, if you like.”
“Uh, where’s that?” I asked, intrigued, but wary. “At your house,
you mean?”
“Well, you see, we’ve got a little farming community forming up
in the hills around here, and we’re looking for new folks to come and
help us out on the land. You could stay for a night or two in one of
our little wooden domes, and then check out the community while
you’re up there, I mean, if you’re interested. It’s a beautiful area just
a few miles out of town, good company, good food, good music,
no head-trips or anything, we’re pretty down-home folks really, just
work hard and play hard...”
I was speechless for a moment. I was tired out, feeling a little de-
pressed, glad that the long day of traveling was over—prepared for
little else than sleep. I was expecting to just set up my tent in the
woods, crawl into my sleeping bag, and fall gratefully into uncon-
sciousness. But now this...
“Well, yes, I am interested. That’s actually why I’m passing through
town. I’m up here to check out a commune. What’s yours called,
anyway?”
“Okanogan Farm.”
“Oh,” I said, a little disappointed. “Well, there must be two com-
munities around here then. But sure, I think I will take you up on
your offer, what the hell...” At least I wouldn’t have to deal with
setting up my tent, not to mention the mosquitoes. Besides, here was
yet another community for me to look into, and these folks seemed