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The last hippy poet of the woodstock generation
Excerpt-3: I turned 17 in 1967, which was the Summer of Love.
It was early summer, I think June or July when, one day, Jessie told me that he and Ted had recently hiked up to a place called Tahquitz Falls, in a canyon on Indian reservation land, just outside of Palm Springs on the southwest side. He said Ted was going to camp there for a week or so and asked if we wanted to join him.
“There are seven waterfalls in the canyon,” Jessie said, “and if you hike to the top of the canyon you will end up in Idyllwild. If you start at the bottom of the canyon in Palm Springs, it’ll take you over a week to climb all the way up the canyon and see all seven waterfalls.” So of course, we decided to join Ted, at least for a couple of days.
I had a canvas backpack from when I used to go to the Boys Club summer camp, that I had also used when I was in the Cub Scouts for a short period. Jessie found a similar one at the Army Surplus store. We packed some camping items to get us by for a few days: pocket knives, flashlights, Sterno and matches. We packed some food: dried fruit and nuts, chips and crackers, canned fruit, beef stew, candy bars and more; whatever we could fit in. Of course, we packed some pot and rolling papers. Ted told us there was plenty of fresh water up in the canyon, so we didn’t need to worry about that. He also said he would bring some beer.
We met up with Ted in Palm Springs and then drove out to the southwest side of town. You had to park and hike in a mile or two in the flat desert area to reach the mouth of the canyon. We did that, and then started up the canyon path along a small stream, which grew larger the further up the canyon we went. Soon, we had to rock-hop on large boulders to continue our hike along the path. There was a fallen tree to use as a bridge to the other side of the water, where it was easier hiking. We crossed and made good time, eventually arriving at the first waterfall. It was breathtaking—at least a 20-foot drop spilling into a pool of water almost the size of a small lake. Several people were already hanging around there and swimming. It must have been deep, because there was a large rock on the south side that you could jump off of, into the center of the pool. It must have been 15 feet high. People were climbing up on it and screaming with joy as they jumped off, making big splashes—cooling off in the summer heat.
At Ted’s motion, we continued on and found ourselves rock-climbing up the face of the falls on the south side of the waterfall, so that we could get above it and continue our journey. Once we reached the top, we could still see the people below, and we could also see a river leading farther up the canyon. We followed the river, at one point having to cross it where it was shallow. Right there in front of us, on the north side of the canyon wall, there was a large rock painting of Jesus. Ted told us it was known as Jesus Rock, but he did not know who had painted it.
We kept going. Further along, we came to a rock cave. Wow! Inside it was astonishing, with a solid stone firepit in the middle, surrounded by seats carved out of rocks. Someone had also carved a shelf out of the sheer rock cave wall—and there were sacks of flour and grain that had been left there—I guess for anyone who might come along. Ted told us that Timothy Leary had stayed in this cave while he was on the lam from the law. Wow! This was truly a unique and unforgettable experience.
We continued our trek up the canyon, coming to the second, smaller, waterfall and then a larger one. What a beautiful canyon, full of clear running water and gorgeous waterfalls!
We had been hiking for several hours by the time we arrived at the fourth falls. Ted told us this was where we would be camping. It was almost unbelievable. Over time, the force of the falls spilling down had carved a 15-foot deep, almost completely square, stone pool—carved right out of the rock mountain. Ted said it was known as the Square Pool. The water was crystal clear, reflecting a deep blue sky, and you could see all the way to the bottom. In front of the pool was a small beach-like area with sand, where we set up camp.
Ted grabbed cans of fruit and beers out of his backpack and threw them right into the pool. He said that being on the bottom of the pool would keep everything cold. When you wanted something cool, you could simply swim to the bottom and grab it. Jessie and I laughed, then tossed what we had in there too, everything that needed to be cold.
This was a magical place to camp. I was excited, amazed, and thrilled to be able to actually have this experience. This was nature as I had never experienced it before.
We had barely finished setting up camp when we heard a noise that sounded a lot like crickets, but more scratchy sounding. Ted said they were a natural warning alarm; a special kind of cricket, native to the canyon. Their unique screeching sound was a natural warning signal of people approaching up the canyon from below. We climbed up on a rock where we could see the path below, where we had climbed up to our location, and there, about half a mile below us, we could see people hiking up. Ted said the crickets always sounded off when people were coming up, so we would always know way before anyone came near. Another wow!
Right before dusk, I saw something else amazing. To my right, on the south side, way up high on the face of the canyon’s rock wall, hundreds of little birds were flying right into the canyon wall and just—vanishing! They were like a funnel—a huge group of birds, funneling down to just one, and then disappearing into the cliff. It was another surprising/amazing sight in this magical Indian canyon. The next morning, they all came funneling back out of the unseen crack, the same way they had gone in. There were no cell phones in those days to record what I saw, and I wasn’t toting a camera. However, it was so memorable that I can still picture it vividly in my mind to this day.
As if that were not enough to boggle my mind, later that night when I was asleep in my sleeping bag, I was suddenly awoken by a noise in the camp area that sounded like something scratching around. I woke Ted and Jessie. Ted shined a flashlight at the sound—and there they were: several small critters about the size of small cats; like house cats, but with extra long tails with rings around them. I had never seen any cats that looked like that. Ted said they were harmless ringtail cats, simply another one of the canyon critters, ones who liked to live near water. My mind was blown! I couldn’t help but think more about the fact that we were on Indian reservation land. Everything that had happened so far began to feel magical to me.
The next day, we hung out, swam, then lay on the canyon rocks in the sun to dry off. Ted was brewing some tea. He told us to come and check it out. He said there was a natural weed that grew in the desert valley there, that the Indians would sometimes use for spiritual journey ceremonies. He said he had picked some on the way up. He offered the tea to us. We were game for a spiritual journey, so we drank some.
The experience was like fryin’ on mushrooms or a mild form of acid. I was trippin’ out for a long time. At one point, I climbed up and behind the waterfall. There was a little cave behind it, barely big enough for me to crawl into but not big enough to stand up in. I sat there, cross legged, for the longest time. I could see the square pool below me, through the waterfall, and sun rays all around me, that were caused by sunlight peeking through the rocks above me. I felt as though I were at one with the universe, a part of everything. It was like . . . I thought . . . you are the sender / the mind bender / I am the mender / we are the mind blender.
I climbed out and sat on a big rock right above the waterfall, enjoying the afternoon sun and listening to the water, while watching the hawks and other birds flying above this magnificent canyon. I felt serene—yes, serenity is what I felt. I pondered the connectedness of all things and my connectedness to my friends below, who were diving to the bottom of the pool for fruit and beer. I felt connected to Mother Earth and the creatures I had seen, as well as to my fellow man. In that moment, I came to the realization that we are all one—a part of everything, and everything is a part of us. I felt it deeply in my soul.
I did not ever want to leave Tahquitz Falls. I wanted to live in the cave where Timothy Leary had slept. Ted told us it was time to move on, climb higher, see the other falls. He planned to hike all the way up to Idyllwild. Neither Jessie nor I wanted to do that, so we decided it was probably time for us to head back down—to the real world we knew—back to the city. The next morning, we packed up and said farewell to Ted as he headed up. We slowly hiked back down the canyon—back to civilization.
I’ll never forget Tahquitz. I actually do believe I became one with the universe up there, at age 17. Years later, I heard they fenced off the canyon so you couldn’t hike up it any more, since people were trashing it and leaving all kinds of garbage there. It was Indian reservation land, after all, and the tribes wanted it protected. Yep, some people have a tendency to ruin a good thing.
“There are seven waterfalls in the canyon,” Jessie said, “and if you hike to the top of the canyon you will end up in Idyllwild. If you start at the bottom of the canyon in Palm Springs, it’ll take you over a week to climb all the way up the canyon and see all seven waterfalls.” So of course, we decided to join Ted, at least for a couple of days.
I had a canvas backpack from when I used to go to the Boys Club summer camp, that I had also used when I was in the Cub Scouts for a short period. Jessie found a similar one at the Army Surplus store. We packed some camping items to get us by for a few days: pocket knives, flashlights, Sterno and matches. We packed some food: dried fruit and nuts, chips and crackers, canned fruit, beef stew, candy bars and more; whatever we could fit in. Of course, we packed some pot and rolling papers. Ted told us there was plenty of fresh water up in the canyon, so we didn’t need to worry about that. He also said he would bring some beer.
We met up with Ted in Palm Springs and then drove out to the southwest side of town. You had to park and hike in a mile or two in the flat desert area to reach the mouth of the canyon. We did that, and then started up the canyon path along a small stream, which grew larger the further up the canyon we went. Soon, we had to rock-hop on large boulders to continue our hike along the path. There was a fallen tree to use as a bridge to the other side of the water, where it was easier hiking. We crossed and made good time, eventually arriving at the first waterfall. It was breathtaking—at least a 20-foot drop spilling into a pool of water almost the size of a small lake. Several people were already hanging around there and swimming. It must have been deep, because there was a large rock on the south side that you could jump off of, into the center of the pool. It must have been 15 feet high. People were climbing up on it and screaming with joy as they jumped off, making big splashes—cooling off in the summer heat.
At Ted’s motion, we continued on and found ourselves rock-climbing up the face of the falls on the south side of the waterfall, so that we could get above it and continue our journey. Once we reached the top, we could still see the people below, and we could also see a river leading farther up the canyon. We followed the river, at one point having to cross it where it was shallow. Right there in front of us, on the north side of the canyon wall, there was a large rock painting of Jesus. Ted told us it was known as Jesus Rock, but he did not know who had painted it.
We kept going. Further along, we came to a rock cave. Wow! Inside it was astonishing, with a solid stone firepit in the middle, surrounded by seats carved out of rocks. Someone had also carved a shelf out of the sheer rock cave wall—and there were sacks of flour and grain that had been left there—I guess for anyone who might come along. Ted told us that Timothy Leary had stayed in this cave while he was on the lam from the law. Wow! This was truly a unique and unforgettable experience.
We continued our trek up the canyon, coming to the second, smaller, waterfall and then a larger one. What a beautiful canyon, full of clear running water and gorgeous waterfalls!
We had been hiking for several hours by the time we arrived at the fourth falls. Ted told us this was where we would be camping. It was almost unbelievable. Over time, the force of the falls spilling down had carved a 15-foot deep, almost completely square, stone pool—carved right out of the rock mountain. Ted said it was known as the Square Pool. The water was crystal clear, reflecting a deep blue sky, and you could see all the way to the bottom. In front of the pool was a small beach-like area with sand, where we set up camp.
Ted grabbed cans of fruit and beers out of his backpack and threw them right into the pool. He said that being on the bottom of the pool would keep everything cold. When you wanted something cool, you could simply swim to the bottom and grab it. Jessie and I laughed, then tossed what we had in there too, everything that needed to be cold.
This was a magical place to camp. I was excited, amazed, and thrilled to be able to actually have this experience. This was nature as I had never experienced it before.
We had barely finished setting up camp when we heard a noise that sounded a lot like crickets, but more scratchy sounding. Ted said they were a natural warning alarm; a special kind of cricket, native to the canyon. Their unique screeching sound was a natural warning signal of people approaching up the canyon from below. We climbed up on a rock where we could see the path below, where we had climbed up to our location, and there, about half a mile below us, we could see people hiking up. Ted said the crickets always sounded off when people were coming up, so we would always know way before anyone came near. Another wow!
Right before dusk, I saw something else amazing. To my right, on the south side, way up high on the face of the canyon’s rock wall, hundreds of little birds were flying right into the canyon wall and just—vanishing! They were like a funnel—a huge group of birds, funneling down to just one, and then disappearing into the cliff. It was another surprising/amazing sight in this magical Indian canyon. The next morning, they all came funneling back out of the unseen crack, the same way they had gone in. There were no cell phones in those days to record what I saw, and I wasn’t toting a camera. However, it was so memorable that I can still picture it vividly in my mind to this day.
As if that were not enough to boggle my mind, later that night when I was asleep in my sleeping bag, I was suddenly awoken by a noise in the camp area that sounded like something scratching around. I woke Ted and Jessie. Ted shined a flashlight at the sound—and there they were: several small critters about the size of small cats; like house cats, but with extra long tails with rings around them. I had never seen any cats that looked like that. Ted said they were harmless ringtail cats, simply another one of the canyon critters, ones who liked to live near water. My mind was blown! I couldn’t help but think more about the fact that we were on Indian reservation land. Everything that had happened so far began to feel magical to me.
The next day, we hung out, swam, then lay on the canyon rocks in the sun to dry off. Ted was brewing some tea. He told us to come and check it out. He said there was a natural weed that grew in the desert valley there, that the Indians would sometimes use for spiritual journey ceremonies. He said he had picked some on the way up. He offered the tea to us. We were game for a spiritual journey, so we drank some.
The experience was like fryin’ on mushrooms or a mild form of acid. I was trippin’ out for a long time. At one point, I climbed up and behind the waterfall. There was a little cave behind it, barely big enough for me to crawl into but not big enough to stand up in. I sat there, cross legged, for the longest time. I could see the square pool below me, through the waterfall, and sun rays all around me, that were caused by sunlight peeking through the rocks above me. I felt as though I were at one with the universe, a part of everything. It was like . . . I thought . . . you are the sender / the mind bender / I am the mender / we are the mind blender.
I climbed out and sat on a big rock right above the waterfall, enjoying the afternoon sun and listening to the water, while watching the hawks and other birds flying above this magnificent canyon. I felt serene—yes, serenity is what I felt. I pondered the connectedness of all things and my connectedness to my friends below, who were diving to the bottom of the pool for fruit and beer. I felt connected to Mother Earth and the creatures I had seen, as well as to my fellow man. In that moment, I came to the realization that we are all one—a part of everything, and everything is a part of us. I felt it deeply in my soul.
I did not ever want to leave Tahquitz Falls. I wanted to live in the cave where Timothy Leary had slept. Ted told us it was time to move on, climb higher, see the other falls. He planned to hike all the way up to Idyllwild. Neither Jessie nor I wanted to do that, so we decided it was probably time for us to head back down—to the real world we knew—back to the city. The next morning, we packed up and said farewell to Ted as he headed up. We slowly hiked back down the canyon—back to civilization.
I’ll never forget Tahquitz. I actually do believe I became one with the universe up there, at age 17. Years later, I heard they fenced off the canyon so you couldn’t hike up it any more, since people were trashing it and leaving all kinds of garbage there. It was Indian reservation land, after all, and the tribes wanted it protected. Yep, some people have a tendency to ruin a good thing.
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