The Oiley Skarf Wino Band

So it's 1970-71

The poppycock is in the hands of the street punks.
I've got my boy scout pack and some granola.
I'm at the state park in Sur.

But lets back up.
In '68 I took myself off to the poppycock,
where I met people even stranger than me. Maybe.

Fortunately or Unfortunately it rubbed off.

That's how I got here
... that and an awful bunch of books
... mixed with life in silly valley.

Anyway, later...
I gave the keys to the guy who opened in the morning
and took off with an old boy scout pack with no frame.
On the road.
Having loaded up I wandered off to Big Sur.

It took a bunch of rides but eventually I got there.
I met some fellow travelers along the way, Tim, George and Charley.
We all hitched together and split up after we got to Sur.

I eventually wound up in the state park, nearly dead broke, out of nearly all my food.

Fortunately it was the end of the weekend and as people
left they gave me what they had leftover.

So I ended up with a bunch ... eggs, potatoes noodles, beans,
a bunch of canned junk you wouldn't want to walk with.

I had met this young hip guy who was dealing acid, and his absolutely gorgeous GF.

I ended up making breakfast one morning for this dealer and his girlfriend in return for some stone material.

Having duly imbibed I walked around through the woods for a while
and stumbled on a meadow where frisbees were flying around in the most amazing ways.

As I sat there, all kinds of strange scenes came and went.

It was nice sitting alone in the Sun.

Faintly I heard music playing through the trees.

As it got louder I sat up and looked for where was the loud radio.

The music sounded kind of old-timy, dixieland jazz sort of stuff.

It got louder and louder,
Then they came ... marching ...

The Tuba player marched in front, He had on a stripped coat and a top hat.

One of the tambourine players (there were several) played a tambourine
made from a bedpan. It was strangely deformed from banging it on his leg.
Contoured to the leg he was hitting it on. This was ranger Bob.

There were a couple of horn players, a flute, drums, and there might have been a Banjo.

They were playing 'When the Saints Come Marching In' - in Serious Rag time!
I was astounded but didn't THINK it was ALL an hallucination.

After they disappeared off Down The Road ... I wandered off in the other direction.
Walking along the dirt road past the camp-sites.

I came upon a camp-site where a middle aged over-weight woman in a mumu was crying and carrying on something fierce!
As I walked up, and please realize the world was swimming and phaseing in and out here,
she asked me "oh please can you help me?" There were several other ladies doing various chores around the camp site but they had all apparently given up.

I looked at her for a moment pulled myself together as best I could and said "well sure, how can I help".

"My little Doggie is locked in the car and I don't have the key and she'll die it's so hot please please help me"

"Hum" I said, "lets see what we can do."

I checked the car, an old heap, and the drivers side window was down just a tiny bit.
After some searching around at the outskirts of the camp-site to my amazement, I stumbled across a rusty wire coat hanger.

I straightened the coat hanger out, slipped it through and with considerable effort managed to hook the door handle and get the door open.

She snatched the little dog up and fell all over me with thanks.

I started to wander off, still being stoned to the bone, but she and the other ladies insisted I had to stay and have dinner.
They were making this outrageous fish stew which smelled good even on acid.
 (Besides, a couple of the ladies there were young ladies - 20's maybe and looked FINE!)

I kicked back and smoked a doob one of the girls sparked up. We sat and rapped for an hour or so.
As we sat I began hearing that funny sounding music again.

As I sat the three guys I had met each wandered by and stuck.
Tim had a little more boo so we smoked a few more doobs.
(Smoking a doob on acid is like throwing a match on a bonfire.
Gives you something to occupy yourself with but doesn't do a thing)

It got louder and louder. I didn't recognize the tune this time but it was the same rag-time kinda stuff.
We looked up as the music got closer and closer, Here come the band!
Same tuba guy in top hat and tails, same bedpan tamborine, same guys!

As we sat and watched, to our complete amazment, they marched up, set down their instruments and started yakkin with the women.
We all just looked at each other.
The guy in the Top hat (Tuba Player) came over and thanked me for saving his wifes little doggie.
Turns out they called themselves "The Oiley Skarf Wino Band".

How strange.

We all had this amazing cioppino, cooked on the spot in a huge pot over the fire pit.
Chowed down, smoked some doobs and got to know each other.

So anyway we all hung around all night and crashed in their campsite.
The next day Charley, George, and I chilled but Tim and the tophat guys daughter developed a kinda serious thing for each other.

After the crew from down south (Topanga Canyon and thereabouts) left for home, Tim says he needs to go down there after her.

We talk about ways and means and it turns out Tim has a '52 Ford in Fremont but it has a leaky radiator.

So of course we decide to hitch up there from Sur and try to fix it.

After a LONG trip hitching we get there and it turns out the radiater tank was split but Tim rounded up an old fashioned soldering iron we heated on his gas stove and though it wasn't easy, I got it to hold pressure.

So we immediately pile in, put our money together for a tank of gas, and head south on hwy 1.
Got there the next day where Tim hooks up with his lady love.

(Stay tuned for "The Adventures of Topanga Canyon")