The afternoon gradually faded. The time was close to 6PM. My
friends and I often talked about going camping but none of us really got up any
energy to do it. My friends… hmm, let me see. I have a few close companions.
There’s Rich Bartelamia, Paul Wabrek and Kevin Trull. I have other friends who
I go out with and party or do other things. But my feelings of closeness stop
at these three kids.
Paul is a
good kid. He measures about 5’9”. He wears long brown hair, his eyes are kind
of hazel-brownish. He is a thin person. He also loves heavy metal music and he
loves getting high. He’ll occasionally do some acid. He likes to play hockey
and baseball especially when we get tens of kids for games.
Then
there’s Rich, he’s the shortest of the bunch at around 5’6”. His hair is in
curls and is dirty blond. His physique is well shaped. He reminds me of the California
Kevin is
around 5’9” too. His hair is rusty brown. His skin is covered with freckles and
his eyes are colored hazel. He is very thin. He also loves to party. I’ve known
Kevin longer than any friend I have now since I moved to Randolph
The reason
I like them so much is probably that I can trust them and confide in them
certain things I like or dislike; certain things I wouldn’t tell the ordinary
Tom Dick and Harrys. Also, as I have said, they’re not scared to party hard and
take all the necessary intoxicants to get sloshed. But friendships aren’t
always easy. For instance, I really detest when Kevin starts to talk about
fights and “killing some niggers or jocks uptown.” The thing is, Kevin’s all
talk. He’s always loved the image of Matt Dillon whether he knows it or not.
Rich and Paul are just plain fun. To party is to have fun, that’s my motto.
My friends
and I finally found some real desire churning in our souls to go camping
somewhere out of Randolph Blue Hills
Mountain Canton
At about 6:30PM I had just about all the equipment I’d
need. Kevin and Rich went uptown trying to find someone to buy— we wanted to
get drunk. About an hour later they came back empty handed but did manage to
get everyone going a hit of mescaline. Also Kevin had a little Jack Daniels for
us.
Eric
Sorgeman came with us also. He’s about 5’9”. He wears long hair that is jet
black. He also has freckles scattered all over his body. He’s got brown eyes
and is also very strong. To tell you the truth, he has a lot of psychological
problems. I think he has an inferiority complex. For example, he fabricates
adventures of sexual conqueror, drunken frenzy. He acts, sometimes like he is
numero uno. But in reality he’s just a sensitive kid trying to gain some attention.
Kids in school tease him and pick on him. Sometimes I feel sorry for him, other
times I feel like kicking out all his teeth. But he can be a fun kid to have
around which was why Kevin and I asked him to come along. We all sat around my
house waiting for Paul to arrive. He was working at King’s Hill and was having
trouble getting out.
In my bags
I had a jar of peanut butter, a roll of toilet paper, two flashlights, a small
pillow and some blankets; also I had cigarettes and lighter fluid. Everyone else
brought their own personal items and comforts. Rich brought a blanket and his
older brothers’ “cot”, I mean hammock. Kevin just brought a blanket and a three
man tent which he borrowed from Dan Reilly— a friend or ours. Paul had a
sleeping bag and a big threatening hunting knife. Rich had a knife also. Sorg
had a very warm sleeping bag and a butter knife for protection which we all
thought was hysterical at the time.
Finally at
around 9:30 Paul shows up all set for
a night in the wilderness. My dad gave us a ride to our spot where we were to
begin the hike. But, prior to leaving us by ourselves somewhere in the Blue
Hills, he dropped us off at the store for some last minute junk food— Doritos,
Pepsi, candy bars, smokes, etc.. Rich had cleverly stolen some candy bars by
sliding them into the side pockets of his camouflage pants.
The five of
us stood on the side of a dark lonely road, Chickatawbet I think it was. We
edged on into the tall deep forest that was littered with many tree roots,
broken branches and rocks. We found a road— a grassy road with patches of dirt.
We then found a narrow path to the left of us that ascended to the sky. We
followed excitedly. We walked, ran, joked, laughed, and shouted to each other
how fuckin’ exciting it was going to be. Up, up, up we trudged while inside us
all, a strange chemical was dissolving into our minds.
After about
fifty or sixty feet we came upon another path that intersected the one we were
on. We followed it for about 20 feet and came to another path that continued
upwards. We stopped to rest here and drink the JD. Here we stared across what
looked like to us great valleys and mountains. There were so many god damn hills
it was incredible. We thought about our fate for the night. This is our first
expedition here and we didn’t know what to expect but were still thrilled at
the idea of the unknown. We joked about horror movies especially, Friday the 13th.
After the JD was gone we began again.
We climbed
higher and higher the steep rocky trails while simultaneously our heads got
higher and higher. We climbed for another 15 minutes until we reached aflat
surface along the mountainside. We came to a grassy, rocky clearing— trees
abounded us. Lo and behold! We found ourselves looking at all of Boston Dorchester Bay Boston Harbor
One of the
first hints you are beginning to be affected is the numbness in your jaw line
and the blurring of your vision. We all, more or less, began to feel it.
Mescaline to me is like a new kind of wine. The ancient Greeks discovered wine—
contemporary America Paris
After a
while of absorbing the brilliant new landscape we decided to hit the trails
again. We all agreed we’d keep on going as far as our bodies would take us.
About 6 miles away was the famous Blue Hills Observatory and large radar tower
with a red light shining half way between it. We all planned on going there.
Through paths and trails that intersected and up and down hills and through low
lying valleys we trudged. Deeper into the everything— ourselves, the night, the
wilderness we traveled. Then I remembered I left my bag with my warm winter
blanket in it back at our rest spot overlooking Boston
Songs and poems
that suggest mental travel. So appropriate in our haze.
We guessed the time to be 11:00 .
We were nestled low between two large hills. I was tripping good now. Despite
my body being battered, hurting from all the bumping into trees and falling
over rocks, I didn’t care. It felt like I was on an exploration of myself as it
exists in plain time and space. I was on two journeys— a physical and mental trek.
I was so
full of energy I could have walked to Maine Randolph
We rested
on a steep decline of jumbly rocks. We had to descend and it was difficult.
Rich and Paul bumped into each other hard and they nearly tumbled down. Of
course to us it was hysterical.
In the
middle of a long silence, someone began singing Not to touch the earth by the
Doors:
House upon a hill
Moon is lying still
Shadows of the trees
Witness in the wild breeze
Come on baby run with me
Run with me
Let’s run!
Which of course led to a round of Break on through:
The day destroys the night
Night divides the day
Try to run, try to hide
Break on through to the
other side!
Paul recited a Morrison poem he memorized: “Shake dreams
from your hair my pretty one. Choose the sign of the day, the day’s divinity.
First thing you see.”
On the move
again, up and down hills and ledges and through condensed woods. At one point
Rich took out his hunting knife, a blade really and gashed Kevin’s green trash
bag that he was using to carry his blankets. Again, we all laughed. I trudged
along, stoned, wide-eyed and very awake. It was not too long ago that we had
all noticed a distant red light at the top of a far hill. It became our
mission, to reach the red light. Over the hills we went, keeping the red light in
our sights.
Our last
rest stop before we reached the plateau. Rich, Paul and Kevin began to tease
Eric, make him paranoid. They suggested we were going to leave him. For his part,
Eric played it cool. The time was exactly 11:58
and Paul, ever ready for a tune began belting out Two minutes to midnight by Iron Maiden and soon Kevin and Eric
join him like cats on a rooftop.
Paranoia
can creep into anyone under the influence of acid— especially, in my case when
surroundings and people seem superior. I recently quit smoking weed, last year
and I know a thing or two about drug paranoia. I began getting paranoid every
time I smoked no matter if I were alone in my room or at the fort with Rich and
Paul. So Eric finally came up to me, secretly away from the others. He says,
“Listen, Jim. Please stick with me whatever happens ok?” He sounded very
nervous.
“Sorg.
Don’t worry. I ain’t taking off,” I said.
We found a
dirt road and followed it, heading toward the light although now the trees were
blocking the light. As we marched on, Rich broke off on to another narrow path, alone.
He told us to follow him but no one paid him attention. After a few seconds we
stopped and looked for him. All we could hear in the stillness was the sound of
feet scuffling through leaves and bushes. We waited. We called out. When he
returned he said he nearly got lost and laughed that acid laugh, as we all did.
Further
down the road, everyone began talking about psychos, assassins and murderers.
How there were maniacs on the loose, hiding along the side of the road, waiting
to attack We started to believe ourselves. Rich waved his blade in the air. He shouted, “okay you mutha
fucker. We see you. Come on out!”
“We gotta
fuckin knife bigger than a gun!” I yelled.
I guess by
doing this our nerves calmed a little. It removed our fear by actually thinking
there was someone watching us. Then I realized how silly I was being and soon
the fear subsided back into a calm mescaline buzz. Not that total fear was
gone— once in a while the image of Jason barreling up the road would come to mind
but I laughed it off.
At 2 am , we were more-or-less coming down off the
mescaline. We were showing signs of fatigue from the long up and down blind
hike. The night air was getting cold. I couldn’t wait to find a spot to set up
camp. But we pushed on until we felt safe and comfortable with a settlement. No
one was leading our expedition. We all more-or-less voted on trails or rest
stops and where to camp. Rich would suggest there and Paul or I would suggest
moving forward a bit more. At one point Rich, Paul and Eric voted to camp here
along the road but Kevin and I thought it was too open to a Parks patrol. We
had no idea if camping was illegal in Blue Hills or not so why take a chance?
They agreed and we moved on.
Finally
from the bottom of the hill we could see the light again and the shape of a
tower under the moonlight. We found a path made of large stones that lead
upwards. For some reason it reminded me of the pyramids. Each step was about 4
feet long by three feet high. As we climbed higher, the stair path began to
swerve one way and then twist another like a spiral. The stairs seemed endless.
When we
reached the top, we all glanced dumbfounded at the distance we traveled. It
felt like a century ago but here we were, on top of the world. Standing at the
tower, having been guided by our trusted red light. I couldn’t help but feel
proud of our accomplishment. We were ancient warriors venturing into the
unknown night. We were also idiots. We had taken this hike, having never been
here, at night, no map and high on mescaline not knowing if we were one step
from disaster. Yet here we were at the Blue Hills Observatory.
I was more-or-less back to reality. The high was gone but it
did come back for short bursts throughout the night. I was still cracking up
like a mad man when someone said something even remotely funny or sometimes I’d
withdraw and laugh to myself.
There are a
few buildings scattered around the observatory with the huge dish that monitors
and tracks weather. A tall chain link fence keeps people out of a control area.
We proceeded to the chain link fence, curious about the controls. Beside it is
a large red brick building and a bright yellow light shines through a window.
Suddenly a man’s figure appeared in the window and we threw ourselves on the
ground. We heard the sound of a metal door opening. Silence. Rich, Eric and
Kevin jumped up and ran back the direction we came. I looked over to my right
where Paul was and we slowly backed off just a little. I was more curious than
afraid now. Besides, I reasoned, we weren’t breaking any laws. We stayed and
listened. A metal clicking sound plucked away now.
“Shit. It’s
only the fucking weathervane,” I said.
Paul sighed
and laughed and then we made fun of them running away.
We moved on
and shortly came to another building that in the dark looked like an ancient
Scottish dungeon. It had a menacing eerie feel to it. Then a pang of paranoia
thrust into my brain as well as another brush with the mescaline high. This had
to be some sort of torture chamber. It was the devil’s kingdom and hideous
creatures were inside worshipping the beast. All these images flashed in mind.
I admit, the closer we got, I was scared. We climbed a small set of stairs. We
made our way to the tower and peered into the doorway. Silence and darkness. No
one wanted to enter. So I did. It was the only way I would conquer my fear. I
stood at the door, hesitant. Eric grasped tightly at the back of my shirt. The
others waited for me to enter. Suddenly I let go of my fear and I jumped
bravely into the darkened entryway. And just like that, we were inside.
“Oh shit,”
I said.
We were
outside again. There was a fireplace built into the stone wall and picnic
tables just off the concrete floor beside the trail. Suddenly the torture
chamber transformed into a sanctuary. We all laughed and stared in wonderment.
“Ain’t this
pissa, Jim?” asked Eric.
“Sure is
dude.”
Rich and
Paul talked about setting up camp right there on the floor. There was a half
roof over us should it rain. Still I wasn’t crazy about the idea.
“A group of
tourists might come by in the morning and we’d be screwed,” said Kevin.
We all
agreed.
“Yah but
still,” said Paul, “it’s wicked nice to settle down for awhile.”
So we did.
And it was a refreshing crisp night air.
About fifty
yards away from the tower was a footbridge and a stone bench. We rested there
for a bit.
“I wonder
what they’re doing in Randolph
“No shit,”
said Rich. “Here we are on top of the world at Blue Hills, camping and tripping
while everyone else is home sleeping.”
Suddenly,
this amazing almost mystical feeling rushes through me. Everything is perfect
and how it should be. The night, stars,
moon, wilderness and friends gathered in nocturnal adventure. My mind opens up
like petals, open to all things now. I am truly happy, free and wonderfully
alone. Time stretches into eternity.
“It feels
like we started this hike a century ago,” I said.
“Yes it does,” said Rich. “Hey Jim, notice how we make plans
to do something and we always carry through with them. Unlike most of the kids
we know.”
“Unless
it’s something that’s out of our reach to control, you know,” I said. “I’ve
accomplished so much yet so very little in life.”
“What?”
asked Paul.
“Nothing.
Hey Paul. Are you still tripping?”
“Yah. A
little bit.”
We rested
quietly. As I sat there thinking, it occurred to me that I was starving. My
Doritos and Pepsi was gone, the peanut butter and loaf of bread, Rich and
Paul’s candy as well as Eric’s nacho cheese tortillas, all gone. Looks like
we’d have to wait til sunrise and maybe after we trekked out we would find a
donut shop or something.
I turned
around and Kevin did too at the same time and our eyes met. On que we began
cracking up for no apparent reason other than we were still high. It was like I
had been floating around in my own private dream world. Then without notice he
drifted into mine; I drifted into his and for a moment we were both in each
others thoughts.
Paul, Eric
and Rich read the Blue Hills dedication inscribed on a metal plaque on the back
wall of the bench. Their tongues stumbled and they laughed.
“Hey Kev’—
where in the world did the word cat come from?” I asked.
Laughter.
“Or
band-aid.”
More
laughter.
“What about
bumble bee?” asked Kevin.
We were
laughing so hard, beyond the point of belly laugh so much that it hurt. We were
insane and unstoppable in our strides for stupidity. Yet it felt like the
funniest and most intense comedy ever— even better than Sophocles or Aeschylus.
When everyone settled down and quiet pervaded the night, my face hurt as if the
world had been using it as a beer coaster.
“I’m
hungry,” I said.
Rich
plunged into his backpack, rifling through it. He stopped, looked up at us and
smiled. I couldn’t take my eyes off his bag.
“What is
it?” asked Paul.
Rich pulled
out two Milky Ways
Then, we
started talking about demons and murderers again. I shined the flashlight into
my face with a deathly glare, feigning a noose around my neck.
“No way! He
looks like the devil,” said Paul, laughing.
“Damien,”
Rich laughed.
We all
laughed as the trip took hold once again. Funny how the darkness looks
different when you add just a little bit of light to an object. Ha! Mescaline
does that too!
Me and Eric got up and walked around, looking for a place to
set up camp. We were caught in a very talkative mood and were probably
irritating the others as they were settling down. Finally found a camp sight
that we all agreed on. It was off a narrow trail a little ways but comfortable
and set back away from the tower. There were enough trees to keep us hidden, we
hoped, in the morning light. It was a small clearing but big enough for
everyone to spread out and for us to make a small fire. We burned many old
leaves from the fall of 84, pinecones and dead branches. The pine trees camouflaged
us from any airplane patrols.
Paul and
Eric worked the fire. Kevin and I started setting up his tent although my trip
kicked in again and I sort of drifted away. Rich struggled with his hammock,
trying to pin it and keep it pinned between two oak trees. The fire going good
on its own now, Paul and Eric spread out their sleeping gear. Rich finally
fixes his hammock, wrapped himself in a blanket and lays down. My mind recovered
and I helped Kevin with the tent again. Just then I remembered I forgot
something.
“ Shit! My
fucking warm winter blanket,” I said.
“It’s only
a blanket,” said Kevin.
“I know.
But it’s so warm.”
I was more
pissed at my forgetfulness. All I had was a thin plastic table cloth that sole
purpose was to be a boundary between me and the ground, now it was my blanket.
“I don’t
care dudes. You all have sleeping bags. I’m sleeping in the tent.”
No one
cared.
The fire
crackled inside the silence of the hills. Kevin and I lay in the tent, the tent
I thought would provide some warmth but it was only a cheap nylon fabric. At
least it kept the bugs out. I wished I had a girlfriend to keep me warm. I
doubted any girlfriend would have come! Other than fantasizing that a
girlfriend would just materialize out of thin air to keep me warm, I lay and
suffer, very cold.
At about 3:30 - 4:00 am , the birds started to sing. The faintest
glow of light peaked out over the horizon. I had my pen and notebook in case I
was inspired to write but bouts of mescaline high came and went often too heavy
for me to move my mind. A truck parked on my brain. It wasn’t boring either.
There was an intense quivering sensation burning up my insides, like a band of
sensations rocking all parts of my body. I was the audience as new forms arose
up.
Kevin and I
talked a little, goofed around with the flashlight and our fingers, making
pictures on the tent. We broke out with giggles, paralyzing giggles for no
reason other than we were in high mode again. Rich and Paul are annoyed as they
are trying to sleep but Eric likes our light show.
“Look a
pig,” said Kevin.
Laughter.
“A Chinese
pig,” he corrected.
More
laughter.
Then we
pretended to broadcast our own TV show and made up different characters as we
went along, complete with audio and visual effects. Our hands made figures from
light and shadow and they talked, ran, fought and fucked each other. All the
while our little program was broadcast outside on the face of a big oak. Eric
laughed constantly.
We tired out eventually just as we realized the night was
slowly slipping behind us. We lay still in the tent. More birds joined the
chorus of music. I managed to drift off for a little bit but woke up at 5:30 , cold and ill. Chills filled my body. I
could tell the mescaline outbursts were done. My head hurt, typical for post
tripping. My back ached. Kevin popped awake too and looked just as bad as I
felt.
I crawled
out from the tent. Morning light blanketed the sky. The sun, eternal friend was
rising slowly. Paul stood silently around a smoldering fire. Rich was off
investigating the castle-like structure we discovered.
“Paul! Want
some breakfast?” Rich asked.
“Yess!”
He headed
toward Rich as did Eric who had been sitting by himself on the ground. We
followed them. Still in our clothing from last night we followed a fuzzy trail
toward the castle. Everyone but me had blankets or a sleeping bag wrapped
around their bodies. We looked like hippie monks heading to prayer time. As we
got closer to the castle, I saw trash littered about— toilet paper, candy
wrappers and empty cigarette packs.
“Hey! You
guys. Check out this sunrise. You can see it perfect from up there. It’s
pissa,” Rich said.
We followed
him into the castle (of course its not really a castle but the name stuck for a
little bit). We climbed a stone spiral staircase that brought us up top into a
room with stone window openings on two sides of us, one facing north, the other
east.
“Wow.”
It was a
beautiful view as the sun was rising and a kaleidoscope of reds and yellows
turned in the sky. It was too good for words. All of the distant towns dotted
the landscape below sweeping views of forest. I could see Houghtons Pond and
Ponkapoag. Boston
“We should
go for a swim,” said Rich.
It was too cold and the pond was too far a hike for the
moment. We returned to the camp sight. We lingered around the hot coals. So of
course no one knew where we were or how we were going to get out of there.
Again, no map. There were trails scattered all over, three main ones it seemed.
Each one was marked by a color— yellow, green and red. Paul and Kevin were
pretty confident in which trail to take so we followed them. It was 7:00 now and the sun finally began to warm
things up. The red trail would overlap the green trail and then just the red
trail. Nice big markings so visitors like us wouldn’t get lost. The trail was
steep and rocky but we knew we were heading in the right direction.
“This bag
sucks,” said Kevin.
It was his
trash bag/ hiking bag. It was ravaged pretty good by Rich’s knife and the sharp
branches thwacking it.
Finally
after about 40 minutes, a sign of civilization: a small zoo. It was still early
and the zoo was closed but we got a firsthand look anyway as we passed by.
Bobcats, foxes, deer, monkeys, musk rats, peacocks and other birds. We hiked
through the zoo path.
I was
fascinated by the bobcat. He was about five times bigger than a house cat and
lean, muscular and had a certain graceful proud walk. He was fun to watch. When
a fly zung around him, he chased it until he got bored. He seemed friendly but
I didn’t want to tempt him by putting my hand in the cage to pet his nose. We
threw sticks into the cage and he would chase them down like a dog fetching a
stick. After he was done playing with our sticks, he took a long piss on the
last stick and that was the end of that. We laughed at that.
As we left
we discovered a map of Blue Hills framed to a wood post. It only showed the
paths around the zoo that led to our castle. There was another map close by of
the entire Blue Hills region and it was huge. Rich and I tried to trace our
route from last night.
“Wow. We
did a lot of distance,” said Rich.
We emerged
into suburbia, for the first time in maybe 12 hours. We walked along a busy
street in Canton
“Anything else?” the waitress
asked.
“No. That’s it. Thanks,” said Paul.
I sipped my coffee but almost spit
it out. “Yuck.”
“These pancakes taste like rubber,”
said Paul.
“I think they’re saving the real
coffee and pancakes for the rich,” I said.
“Gross.”
“At least you have some delicious
looking powdered eggs,” I said. Everyone laughed.
Behind us sat two men and a woman.
They looked like rockers in a punk band dressed in leather jackets and t-shirts
advertising a band. Though all three had crew cuts, including the woman, I was
amazed by this, their hair was died black and blue. The woman was scary
looking. Her face was pock marked and covered with huge amounts of makeup. It
was hard not to stare at her, hard not to laugh.
On our way down Main
Street 9:00 am Sunday
morning.
I awoke to the sound of children. I
looked up. In the distance, behind us, was a large group of children with
adults leading the way on a hike. Rich, Kevin and Paul were sleeping.
“What time is it?”
“Quarter of twelve,” Eric said.
The others woke and noticed the
hikers. Eric began contemplating why the children were coming through the
woods, in his nervous excited way but I wasn’t listening. All I could think
about was going home and eating.
We walked and we walked and then we
walked some more. We walked along the side of the endless road. We took turns
thumbing for a ride. Each car just passed us by completely ignoring us,
although I don’t blame them. We were a motley crew all right. Behind the guard
rail I found the skeleton of what looked like a fox or small dog. It lay on the
cement half covered by wind blown sand. It’s skeleton unmoved since it had been
a full body, freshly dead. It was in great shape. No bones were broken and but
for a couple of missing front teeth it was intact. I wondered how it died? Hit
and run maybe or heat exhaustion. Starvation. I felt bad for this creature and
if it was a dog, felt bad for its owner.
A young couple maybe in their
mid-twenties picked us up and dropped us off closer to home. By 2:00 we were on the outskirts of Randolph North
Main Street Wales Ave Belcher Park Randolph
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