Harry and I left Ohio on September 24th, a Saturday. I had managed to pack all of my belongings into the back of my car and into a U-Haul trailer I had rented for the move. A friend had put a tow hitch on the back of my car, and now I had to get used to driving with a trailer, something I had never done before.
I took the first leg of driving, through Ohio and Indiana. We took the northern route, up I-74 to I-80 in Davenport. Harry and I took turns driving after the first day, four hours per shift. I had my entire music collection with me – tapes and CDs and MP3s. For the first few days, the two of us took a trip down memory lane, musically speaking. We listened to songs neither of us had heard for twenty years or more- music from the 80’s that we had grown up listening to.
By the time we got to Wyoming we were done with our intense musical journey and had settled into long conversations about everything under the sun – including the sun. And the moon, and galaxies, and the universe itself.
Sometimes we played a little game in which one of us would select a topic, as mainstream or obscure as we liked, and the other had to immediately talk about that topic. Harry stumped me with some good ones, but I couldn’t stump him at all. He had something to say about everything, which, I realized after a while, was one of the things I loved about him. He didn’t insist that he was right about anything, but he certainly had something to say about it.
By the third day, we were making good progress through Wyoming. But we weren’t in a hurry. Not at all. In fact, it was the first time in many years that I was not in a hurry. Harry had no need to get back home and he wanted the trip to take as long as I allowed it to. He was taking a break from his writing, and he wanted to simply enjoy what each day brought, no expectations.
We had a rough plan: we were going to keep driving until we reached the coast, probably in Portland, and then make our way down to San Francisco. But we had no specific time line, no place we insisted on visiting. Just the general intention of driving until we reached the coast.
However, there was one place I did want to check out, if possible: Oregon. I mentioned previously that I have always felt a draw to Oregon, and so I really wanted to spend some time there. I had some camping gear from when I was younger – I used to go on hiking and camping trips during high school and college. So we were prepared to do some camping if we had the opportunity.
Sometime near the end of our first week we spent the night in Boise. And the next day, we crossed the state line and entered Oregon. I was so excited, just crossing the border. I had made it! We picked up a state map and began to scrutinize it. We decided to head north and spend some time along the Columbia and Deschutes Rivers.
What a beautiful place! It felt like home to me – a home far away from home. We did some camping along the Deschutes River, not far from Mt. Hood. Neither of us was particularly interested in fishing, but we did cook up some steaks over a fire the second night. We had picked up a few real estate booklets at a gas station, and that night we talked about how much we both enjoyed where we were.
“You know what would be great?” I said to Harry as we sat around the campfire that night.
“What would be great?” Harry answered.“It would be great to buy some land up here.”
“How much land?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I guess a few dozen acres.”
Harry pondered the idea. “It would be a good place for a retreat of some sort.”
“Yes! That’s kind of what I was thinking. Like a spiritual retreat. But not religious. Spiritual.”
Harry nodded. “It certainly feels spiritual. The river, the mountains. It’s so peaceful, yet full of life.”
The two of us were quiet, listening to the river gently flowing by. The moon was half full. Stars filled the sky. It was an incredible scene.
“I’ve got it,” Harry said finally. “I’ll sell my house, and we can use the money to buy some property up here.”
I looked at him. “Sell your house? Why? Are you going to move out here?”
Harry shook his head, laughing. “No, I don’t think so. I mean, I haven’t considered it. But maybe. Who knows?”
I thought perhaps he was just kidding, so I went along with it. “You could run a spiritual retreat. You could teach. People could come from all over the world. You could finally be that cult leader I always thought you could be!”
Harry and I laughed hard, and he gave me the funniest look.
“Okay,” he said, “it’s a deal. I’ll sell the house and send you the money. You buy the property, get some cabins built, and I’ll be out when everything’s ready!”
The thought of Harry walking around in a long robe, preaching to the people, had me in stitches. I rolled off the log I was sitting on, nearly finding my way into the fire. Harry grabbed my shoulder to keep me from burning myself.
“I’m saved!” I said between fits of laughter. The chardonnay we were drinking had me feeling giddy and playful.
Harry and I slept out under the stars that night.
We woke up early the next morning, and after a small breakfast we packed up and hit the road. We spent the morning driving around and surveying various areas and properties. We made it to Portland by mid-afternoon and had a wonderful afternoon and evening in the city. Then we rented a hotel room downtown and spent the night visiting some of the night spots.
The next day we began our drive down the coast, finally arriving at Ravi’s place on Monday, October 10th. Our journey had lasted sixteen days, and by the end of it I knew Harry better than probably anyone else in the world. I was convinced that he would someday move out to the coast as well, though I knew he was not yet ready to do so.
Paul had already found a small house for us to rent, and Harry helped us move in. Then the four of us (including Ravi) spent a day and evening in San Francisco, and the next day Harry flew home.
It had been a beautiful, perfect trip from Ohio to California, one that I will always cherish. I hoped that Harry would come out for another visit before long. I drove him to the airport and bid him farewell, assuring him and myself that we would see each other again soon.
That, however, would not be the case. It would be almost three years before I would see him again.
And by that time, things would be very different.
