Bud & I hung out at his farmhouse and fed the horses, chickens, and pheasants. His crazy dogs were something else too, running around jumping up and down on us and on each other. Then he took me to his barbershop and after that we went to Oliver Winery as I headed up to Chicago in the late afternoon. The drive to Chicago was a piece of cake. I arrived around 9pm, and finally met up with the McIntyres around midnight. They were all staying at the Palmer House Hilton, smack dab in downtown Chicago. I parked on the ninth floor of the parking garage. The Phoenix would remain there for 48 hours. I would go back and forth to the truck all weekend to get equipment, clothing, and other possessions. It was very safe, and convenient. The Palmer House Hilton is by far and large the nicest hotel accommodations thus far on the haul. We were on the 20^th floor in this incredible Presidential suite. When I arrived, the great city glow was awesome and intimidating. This was my first visit to Chicago. Pre-thought anticipation had created heightened expectations. Chicago is downright cool, a friendly city with a lot of soul. Everyone was out when I arrived. They were at John Barleycorns for the post rehearsal dinner party. I took a cab down to look for them, but no one was to be found. While in the cab, I turned on my official Tripp recorder for a covert conversation, with the foreign cab driver, great material. Then I went back to the suite and was just about to fall asleep when the last-callers crawled in a bit messy. T-Bird was there and Goggin, Sully, Jimmy Mac, Jenny, and various cousins. They managed to order a 5am pizza and then pass out, the pizza came and woke up the Doctor. He was confused. Tommy and I retrieved the pizza from the lobby. Everyone passed out all over the suite, under the dining room table, sitting upright in chairs, on couches and on each other. I did not sleep. I just closed my eyes and checked out the insides of my eyelids for a few short hours.

It was simply a glorious day in Chicago, sunshine, clear skies, seventy degreesÖunusually pleasant. Lack of sleep was soon forgotten as Sully and I went out to Mondayís for breakfast. We walked all over the city and shot it hard with my arsenal of documentary equipment. The Wedding was at this wonderful gothic looking cathedral. I was amazed at the detail and color of each unique stained glass window throughout this special place of worship. John McIntyre belted out an incredible heartfelt speech, as the Clements & McIntyre families were forever joined together in holy union. There were some 333 guests all full of great spirit and love. The reception was on the top floor of the Chicago library. Again, very impressive. There was a big band playing all the wedding favorites, and people were dancing, and having a real swell time. I shot tons of pictures, and had dinner with Tom, Nicole, & some other guests that I came to know. This was my second wedding on the Haul. It was an outstanding affair. Many thanks to the entire families of the bride and groom for hosting such a magical weekend. After the reception Ann went to Millerís bar outside the Palmer House in her wedding gown for some late night festivities, now thatís a bride.

Late Saturday I had conceded the fact that I would have to drive back out to the eastcoast drop off the Millennium Phoenix and pick up the newly restored Millennium Phalcon. I had tried to convince some friends to relay the truck out to Chicago, but by the time I got to Chicago, nobody had volunteered. I canít say I blame them either. Sunday was spent with a long brunch with family until the late afternoon. As we were checking out of the hotel, I made a desperate attempt to raise funds for my unavoidable long boomerang journey to the Cape and Islands. I was to be back in IOWA by Friday night, it was Sunday. At any rate, I showed people the website at brunch, and sold a few greeting cards to them. Then I went down to the street out in front of the main lobby of The Palmer House, and set up my cards for sale. It was a lotta fun. Nobody hassled me, and I sold about $40- worth to complete strangers. I was officially broke at this point so this forced me to sell, sell, sell. It was a challenge. Jimmy Mac let me borrow a hundred dollar bill, Mitch gave me all the money is pocket-$45-, Jenny bought me some batteries with a twenty and told me to keep the change, and Lizzy bought My Foot & a few other cards. I managed to raise close to $200-. Every penny was needed. I told one of the guests, Dave Lewis that Iíd give him a ride to South Bend on the condition that he pilot the Phoenix while I sat and wrote in Word. I had never been to Notre Dame, and we drove right into the front loop with the golden dome in the distance. It was around 9pm, I still had a 9 hour drive. Luckily I was in a caravan with Johnny & Kevin all the way back to Rochester, we of course lost each other before Cleveland. While we were in the loop at ND, another karmic coincidence occurred. I noticed a blue van that belonged to my longtime childhood friend Christopher Regan, we use to play a lot of chess together. At any rate, I had not seen Christopher since I launched this idea, he was finishing up law school. I left the Vital Light under the wiper on his windshield. Then, we all got back on the road having dropped of Dave.

I drove straight on til morning and arrived at the McIntyreís home at 6:17am on day 46 just as the sun filled the sky. I would sleep for about 5 hours, and then convince Johnny Mac to get in the Phoenix and drive me to the Cape & Islands at around 7:28pm. We drove yet again into the dark hours of early morning arriving in Wareham, Mass just outside the Cape around 3:06am. Five hours later we woke up to a wake up call from Adam Weinstein. He was to meet us at the boat on Marthaís Vineyard. I needed to get the insurance settlement to give to Tom Flurkey, some sixty-two-hundred dollars. Adam picked us up at the 11:30am ferry, we went to lunch at the Black Dog. After lunch I ran into two of my friends; J-Bone & Timmy, a couple of Old School Shinglers, we went for a drive. I would leave Johnny Mac with Adam on the island for the day, while I returned to Woods Hole on the 1:30pm boat. I quickly arrived at the dealership. The transistion was so smooth as Steve greeted me with a smile and the completely rebuilt Millennium Phalcon. I never realized how much I missed her. She really is something else. I transferred all of my wares from the Blazer to the S10. I said goodbye to the Phoenix, drove back down to the boat to pick-up Johnny. We went to the IHOP at the Bourne Bridge, and then on to Cathyís place in Rhode Island to pickup the extra stuff that could not fit in the Phoenix at the time of the accident. By the time we got on the road it was 10pm.

Once again, we drove straight on til morning. Johnny drove most of the way, and we even had to stop to close our eyes for a few hours. I dropped Johnny off in Rochester, sent the McIntyreís off to work, and then went over and woke up Rodger & Linda. They have provided a majority of the film, phone cards, and gift certificates to McDonalds. They had a very generous replenishing supply of these items waiting for me. We chatted for about twenty minutes, and then I got back on the road to Buffalo to stop for some rest at Mom & Dadís placeÖ.Rest would not come until the evening. Dad and I had work to do. The Phalcon was not fully prepared for the Haul. I needed to drop a rear slider window so that I could pass into the cargo bay to rest and sleep during anticipated times of highway hypnosis. I convinced Dad to purchase the window for the truck. It was nearly $250-. I did my laundry and some writing. It was great to be with mom & dad, theyíre cool.

Day 43 Go West at Last

Finally I was headed west. The whole accident thing and insurance and detour was a mess. I had the Phoenix for exactly 7 weeks to the day. I put 10,314 miles on her in that time. She cost the insurance company $the other insurance company would pay for 2,369- of which I was told. They are being difficult. More on that later. Mark and the folks at Enterprise cut me loose without paying the bill. The truth is, I told them that I did not have that kind of money. They were cool. Anyways, back to day 43 in Buffalo. Dad and I put the finishing touches on the Phalcon, and then I finally blasted off westward. I stopped in Cleveland for the sunset. The Browns stadium is quite impressive on the waters of Erie. After that, I drove all the way to New Buffalo, Michigan, checked into a motel room around midnight, and made a few phone calls, I was just outside of Chicago.

The Millennium Phalcon had about 3,500 highway miles, and she was overdue for an oil change. I took advantage of the time by writing postcards and sending out press releases, one of which was sent to People magazine. You gotta be in it to win it. I also sent the 15^th postcard to David Letterman. I am not certain why there has been no response? Persistence is the key. Iíll let you know when I send the 20^th. Madison is a really cool spot. The capital is right smack dab in the center of town. It has many front faces at the end of streets that flow towards it. It reminded me of Annapolis. I believe I sent 9 postcards in all, then got back in the truck and drove all the way to Okoboji, IOWA. I met up with the Barfoot family, this was Johnny Bravoís family. They fed me an early THANKSGIVING dinner and then we went out to the Marquee for some cold Budweiser. We then went to Sportyís and on into Captainís. He was showing me the quiet night scene of a summer resort in the off-season.

Johnny Bravo, a late twenties bartender at Orlandoís Hard Rock Live, flew up to his homeland in Iowa just so that he could show me the heartland of America. Now, hatís off to this guy. He flew up and met up with me heís the only guy on the Haul to do that. If you remember correctly, I met up with Bravo in the early 60ís on the haul, and I went to Key Weird with his Uncle Mike and friends. Bravo was unable to be with us on Halloween, so thatís why he so willingly came up for this trip. Realizing that I had driven 3,200 miles since Sunday he offered to drive the whole time. I was thankful of that since we put on another 1,600 miles between Iowa, Minnesota, Wisconsin, and North Dakota. While he drove, I was able to work on the computer and also get other stuff organized in the Phalcon. I also shot a live video segment in the vehicle that turned out rather nice. We got in the car around 2pm, and drove up to Loon Lake, an old settlerís cemetery. Some say itís haunted, I think only to those who disrespect the dead. We came with positive spirits. We went to pay our respects to the dead. They were the early settlers on the frontier land of America. From there we stopped at Fort Belmont along the path for a little more American History. We finally arrived in our destination of Duluth, Minnesota around 9pm for a live performance of Fat Monkey at RTís Lounge. The band was a lotta fun, and I shot live video. After the gig we crossed the bridge and went to Superior, Wisconsin to check out their late night live music scene.

As we were driving out of Duluth in cloudy states of mind, we stopped into a gas station. I ran next door to the ATM to see if my financial advisor, Jimmy Mac, had deposited any donations into my account. The balance statement sadly read $1.57. Oh well, thank god for Discover. We filled up the tank and then bought some coffee and water and some gas station snacks like peppered beef jerky and jalepeno potato chips. Iím not much of a gambler, but I was feeling like we had nothing to lose. So I bought Bravo and myself a scratch ticket each. I lost. He won $28-! He was feeling lucky, and we needed the cash badly. We took $8- and tried to win more, and then walked away the Jackson Back. We then drove clear across Minnesota on back roads. We stopped in Brainerd to see Babe the Blue Ox, and then went on up into North Dakota for a photo shoot of Fargo. Town was dead, and Iím not so sure that this was unusual. While Bravo and I were shooting, this native American approached us and asked us to take his picture. I of course thought this would be great. He even had his own prop with him, a vanity plate from North Dakota with Hadista(tribe name) engraved on it.

At any rate, I took a few pictures of him with the plate, and then with my Countdown clock.

After I took the shots, he told me that I owed him some money. I told him and his friend that Iíd buy them a beer. He smiled, and took us to his local gin mill. We left Fargo and headed to Minneapolis where we would stay for the evening at the Fat Monkey Funhouse.

Bravo and I woke up in the cave of the Funhouse, Fat Monkeyís exclusive basement studio. It was so dark, concept of time was completely lost. As usual I was in slow motion with no real urgency to get on the road. I wrote some more in the update, and Bravo screened our weekend video. He then created a unique segment that highlighted our time together on the road in the heartland with the band. By the time we finally got our act together, it was around 3pm. Bravo had convinced me to stay. Besides, I wanted to see what all the hype was about this so-called Mall of America. Well let me you tell, this place is a mega-mall with two of the biggest parking garages that I have ever seen. I have always been fascinated by parking-garages this interest grew as a child, when I use to have a lot of Matchbox cars & Hot Wheels. I use to collect racecars. Anyways, Bravo drove me to the highest level of the garage. Each section is designated with a state name. For example, the 7^th level is Hawaii, the 3^rd Georgia, these are not accurate, but you get what I mean? The very top level is Alaska, and I know why. Itís downright cold up there. A wind chilled cloudy November day revealed that to me. I shot the parking garage. We had some dinner inside the enormous multi-leveled retail continent. The center atrium is an amusement park for crying out loud. I was amazed. I dropped Bravo off at a friendís place in Minneapolis. By the time I got on the road it was going on eight oíclock.

Cranking live music, drinking lots of coffee, and doing the 75mph speed limit made for a mad dash into and beyond the midnight hour. At some point around 3am I was feeling a bit sleepy. I looked over at a billboard in the evening distance. The sign read Triple H truck stop. Immediately I knew that it was time to pull over and crawl into the Phalcon Lounge for a little shuteye. The reason was completely clear to me. Triple H stood for Huffís Hundred-Day Haul. So I dozed off for a few hours in the comfortable Phalcon Lounge. It was around 30 degrees outside, but I had plenty of blankets for warmth and comfort. In fact I was so comfortable, that I slept passed noon. I woke up crawled back into the cockpit, and went westward to the Badlands and the Black Hills. The Badlands are bad. Nobody was around which made for an eerie feeling that I enjoyed. I shot a whole mess of photogs, and then went to Mt. Rushmore and did the same thing. As nighttime began, I entered Wyoming. Wow. As I was driving through this small town, I looked to my left and saw this great big full moon in a cloudless galaxy. At first look, while low in the horizon, her beauty was magnified a hundred times her size. She looked like a great big scoop of vanilla ice cream full of all sorts of nooks and crannies, in a starry purple-dark blue sky. As she ascended further into the westward sky, she spread her vital light along the skyline drive revealing lonely mesas, gigantic buttes, and crater like divets in the treeless virgin lands of Wyoming. I decided to stop in Cheyenne, for a bite to eat, and a nightís rest. Upon exiting the Phalcon, I soon discovered the arctic air. Temperatures were in the low teens. There was no way I could stay in the Phalcon lounge. Unfortunately, my credit card was declined at the Econo Lodge. So I had to call in Dan Sisas(day85) of Annapolis Maryland. He was kind enough to book me a room. Thanks Dan.

I woke up, fell out of bed, and blared the Dead into my head. Musical inspiration helped me on-line as I answered questions from random people who had visited the Vital Light Website. Itís pretty cool when strangers are interested in this project. I was on the road by 11am. As I drove south into Denver the snow-capped rockies were in the distance. There was snow as far as the eye could see. Apparently I had just missed the first snow storm of the season. When I got to Denver, I went west on I-70 through the heart of the Rockies. It was cold and crisp outside, a very bright and beautiful day. Traffic was intense. And the Phalcon was pushed to her limits as she ascended higher and higher into the Summit of Colorado. The descent was challenging as well due to the heavy traffic. I had to be very defensive against all the Yahoos on the road headed somewhere for Thanksgiving. By the time I got to Utah, the sun was fading. I descended into Moab on this scenic by-way along the Colorado River. It was the open range, so I had to be careful of wandering cattle and sheep herds. As I was winding around a sharp tricky turn, my headlights beamed into the eyes of a great big cow. From that point I obeyed the speed limit. While driving through Mexican Hat, a man hit a horse. It was a bloody mess. I am not certain of the outcome? The rez is a dangerous place to drive at night. At last, I was back on the Navajo Nation. It had been nearly 4 years since my high school teaching assignment there. I taught at a place called Rough Rock. I was to meet up with Erick Van-Pelt, a mid-forties teacher that I came to know very well during my time in the high desert of Arizona. Since our last visit, Erick and his lovely wife Lila, had spent two years in the Peace Corps in Papua New Guinea. Erick said he nearly died there several times, and was not sure that he was ever going to see me again. He said this to me as he greeted me at a gas station in Kayenta.

For those of you who are unaware of the Navajo Nation, it is the biggest Native-American nation in the US. It stretches throughout the four-corner region of the southwest. Comparatively, it is about the size of New England without the Maine state. It is its own nation, with its own laws, and tribal government. In many ways it is like a third world country. The people live off of the land, and off of tourism. They live in hogans without running water or electricity. The schools are situated in certain areas throughout the reservation. They are boarding schools, and the students live there during the week, and then return to the land with their families during the weekend. It is a very unique culture. Monument Valley High School is the school in Kayenta. This is located in northeast Arizona around 40 miles south of Utah and the sacred Monument Valley. The compound was very quiet because most of the students and staff were away during this holiday break. Erick, a man who prides him self in bringing people together, was hosting this particular Thanksgiving for all those folks who remained on the rez. There must have been a dozen of us together. I helped Erick prepare the feast, cutting vegetables, splitting wood, and preparing the fire pit. We cooked the 22lb. Turkey outdoors on an open wood burning fire. The turkey was wrapped in five layers of tinfoil, and rotation was necessary for proper cooking. At first, I built the fire way too big. Erick was quite surprised and perhaps a bit annoyed. I enjoy playing with fire. However, he rolled with it, and said that it was a good way to defrost the bird. In the beginning a five-minute rotation was imperative. Rotation was done by picking up the bird with cooking mittens, and then flipping it on the strict rotation cycle. I set up the 8mm for some live video footage. It took six hours to properly cook our Thanksgiving dinner, and the wood smoked turkey turned out incredibly juicy and delicious. I was impressed, and very thankful to be with this crew on the final Thanksgiving of the 20^th Century.

During my time as teacher on the rez, I experienced all sorts of alienation, fear, and loneliness. It was a time of self-reliance and inner growth. I was tested and teased by the crazy Navajo kids. We all were at Rough Rock. One of my coping skills was to go to nowhere places and hike and stare and think. The magnitude and vastness of the enchanted southwest is a spiritual experience, just to be there fills your soul. Many times I would go out into the mesas and get lost in random slot canyons. In fact, the background that you see on the home page is a slot canyon in Rough Rock. The most magnificent enchanted place for spiritual healing is sacred Monument Valley. For those of you who have never been there, you actually have. You see the two buttes that you see when you enter this sacred Navajoland(the Mittens), is Hollywoodís signature shot of the west. They have been used in all sorts of movies that I canít even name. I do know one though, it was in box offices in í69, Easy Rider with Dennis Hopper & Peter Fonda. Marlboro also advertises with the mittens. On this particular day, the mittens stood there in a cloudless sky bright blue sky. Erick was at the helm of the Phalcon as we drove throughout valley. It was awesome. Lila & Nancy were in Caloy, Erickís í86 burgundy Nissan station wagon. Nancy had never been to the southwest, and she kept gawking in awestruck ways. This is very typical for first-timers in the southwest.

I had to stick around the rez until Monday because I was completely tapped out of cash and I was waiting for a package containing an ATMcard. Our Financial Advisor had deposited cash into a joint account. This money was donated from Scott & Louise, and of course the lovely Jean-Marie. Thanks. There was also an unidentified donation for $25-. All in all, I found $226.57 in my account. Thanks guys and galsÖ..Now back to the HaulÖ.I went to MVHS to get a few shots of school in session. Then I got on the road and went along this very scenic route to Page. I stopped at a WalMart and picked up supplies; film, audio & videotapes, batteries, and some postcards. The day was picture perfect. And the cliffs and mesas were incredible. I stopped at the impressive Navajo Bridge that was very magnificent. It too was in a movie with Woody Harrelson, the title escapes me. Further on up the road, I entered the Kaibab Forest. It is weird how this live forest sneaks up on you in the dead desert. Winding and turning through the tight road, I descended down into the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. I have hiked to the bottom before, via Hualapai hilltop, but had never been to the North Rim where the Grand Canyon Lodge sits. WOW! Impressive. I got there as the sun was setting, and ran down with an arsenal of equipment, to the tip of the rim past the lodge in this little railed in area on the edge of the Canyon. I sat and stared into the vast Canyon. It was hard for me to grip the beauty and amazement of the Grandest Canyon in the World. I must admit it brought it tears to my eyes as I reflected on the past 68 days and 18,000 American miles. The coolest thing too was that I was the only one there. The Lodge was closed, and there were no other cars in the lot. It was just I. I guess thatís why it was so special.

As I drove into Utah, the Phalcon was cruising at high speeds. Sometimes she gets away from me in the desert. All of sudden I passed a truck on the side in the distance. Instantly the lights went on and I was caught right there. Turns out I was going 86 mph in a 65, 21 miles over the limit. I told the cop about the Haul, and that it was my first ticket in over 18,000 miles. He reduced it to 10 miles over. Day 31 began at Ken Pughís place in Vegas. Ken is now a professor at a college in Vegas, he and I taught together at Rough Rock. We went to an all you can eat buffet at Texas Station, a casino in the outskirts. That night Ken took me over to his longtime friend Daleís place. Dale lives outside the valley in this hip artsy town known as Boulder City. He had just gotten back from circumnavigating the entire globe. He began his journey way back in September when I began the Haul. Ken & I had a great time listen to Dale spin his stories. Heís a great storyteller, and not to mention extremely fit for 50 years old.

I have been to Vegas several times in the past. Of course each time, I visited the strip and the inside of the casinos. They prevent anyone from going outside, there are no clocks on the walls. The concept of time is discarded. The last time I was in Vegas was for Halloween in í98. I met up with some old friends, and we stayed at the Luxor(that great big pyramid). It just so happened too that this great band was playing at the Thomas & Mack arena. At any rate, tickets were very hard to come by and in fact, I had to buy them from a shady ticket broker that fell through in real costly way. But that was a different time outside the Haul, Patrick Finnegan was there with me, and youíll hear his version later. The point is, I got a bad taste of the strip, and besides I never like to go down the same roads twice. Once something is played-its playedÖAnyway, back to this particular visit. It was Wednesday, and Ken had a long, long day of teaching. So I called up the dude Dale, who was not working since he had just returned to the states. When he is punching the clock, Dale is a hard-core crane operator, you know those great big cranes that they build skyscrapers with?-, thatís what Dale operates. His nickname is "Smooth Operator", heís good with cranes, but heís also good with the women. Plain & simple Dale is cool, so I called him up, and the next thing I know, heís at the helm of the Phalcon and weíre headed into the mountains 20 minutes outside of Vegas. It was a sweet day. A bit windy, but a real sunshine daydream. We went to Red Rock Canyon, which I am certain that if you asked folks on the strip where it was, they would have no idea. Itís this really cool geological spot full of red rocks and gypsum. There are no real designated areas to hike, and hiking is at your own risk. According to Dale, this was his playground. So we drove in, and he was telling me all sorts of stories about his wild days in the 70ís. Great stuff. We parked the Phalcon and climbed up this killer rock formation ascending over dangerous, sharp jagged rock and eventually reaching the peak to see Vegas in the valley in the distance. We were at the top of the worldÖ.Later on that night I met up with Mr.B at the Sahara, interesting dude. We went back to his house late night and listened to Jerry Garcia.

I left Las Vegas about mid-morning and drove through the great wide-open spaces of Utah. Salt Lake was a great deal further than I had anticipated, 486 miles to be exact. I drove into a snowstorm when I got to Salt Lake. I grabbed a cheap motel room and shut it all down right there in Salt Lake.

In the morning when I awoke, I found 18inches of snow piled high above the Phalcon. The town was a white blanket. The trees were weighed down with snow creating a very surreal effect. Everything in town was slow as a result of the recent snowstorm. I sent an e-mail to my folks to give me a wake up call. So, at 7:15 mom and dad were glad to have a number to reach me at. The morning was very productive. I made a few phone calls, and did some writing and laundry and stuff like that. The Phalcon needed a little maintenance, so I took her to some local oil change station. It was a 30minute process so I did some more writing, then I drove into downtown. While I was downtown I snapped off a whole mess of pictures and then somehow waltzed into the mall to discover the crowds of holiday shoppers. I was glad to find a warm building to warm myself up, Salt Lake was also very cold. I bought a bunch of postcards and sat down at an empty table in the food court and began to write what would amount to 23 postcards. I took a good hour to cleverly write to 23 random folks on the mailing list. Letterman was sent #16. I went back to the car and discovered a parking ticket. Man, the only two violations on the trip have been in Utah. I got the Utah blues, and jumped in the Phalcon and drove to Paris, Idaho. It was cold in Paris, about 8 degrees. Paris is a small town on Bear Lake. I went down to the Railhead to get warm and meet some locals, and I sure did. I sat down and it took about a beer or two before anyone acknowledged my existence. Then some cowboy bought the house a round of drinks(there were about 10 of us in the house), that was the icebreaker that launched in evening of interesting discussion involving Y2K disaster. The dude Jeff said he was prepared for disaster. He likes to hunt game, and is a weapons expert. His family will be fine if thereís a disaster.

The room I had cost $19.95 for the evening, I made about 6 calls on-line, and the bill came to $26.43. They were lucky that I gave them the money-thatís highway robbery. If money were no object, than I would not have a problem, but you know the cash flow situation. I checked out and then drove north into Wyoming. Crystal clear Blue skies with thick white powder in the flat lands in front of the vast snow-capped mountain regions. I stopped in a small town for breakfast at the Colter Lodge. They had an elk arch in the center of town. I drove through it and thought that I should stop. It was 8 degrees outside. It was a cold stop. I dropped yet 9 more postcards at the post-office. When I came out, this cowboy was looking under his hood in distress. I saw jumper cables, and quickly offered the Phalconís assistance. The late 40ís manís face lit up with relief, and myself filled with that energy made for a quick solution. He was back on the road in no time. I then crossed the road and nearly froze. It was so cold my nose froze. I stepped into the warm Colter Lodge. This place was cool. It was everything built in one. A lodge full of food and spirit, and moose and game hanging on the natural wood of the walls. I sat down in the dining area and had a full breakfast with bacon and eggs and all the fixinsí. After breakfast, I drove to Jackson Hole, a very cool cowboy town. It was in Jackson that I discovered more elk arches, and funds. Tom & Nicole Lillis had made a recent donation of $200-, and the last time I checked the ATM, there were insufficient funds. By the way, the financial part of the Haul is a very complex difficult department to deal with, especially this far down the Haul-Way. Things are now just starting to move smoothly. Nonetheless, it will be a very interesting chapter for you all to appreciate. James McIntyre is a fantastic financial advisor that has been processing all of the many donations that have been streaming in. Thank you all for the checks here and there, weíre keeping track of everything and have a real clever way of thanking you and all of the many people who have sponsored me, or hosted me for a night, or gave me something for the road, or pointed me in the right direction, all of these kind gestures have made the Haul such a magical odyssey full of great spirit and optimistic energy. Thank you all. The ATM on a corner in Jackson Hole, Wyoming magically spit out the $80- dollars I requested and thought for sure was to be rejected. I was so surprised I shouted yes and eyes were staring. I shot video the whole time, and thanked Tom & Nicole right there live as the money was spit out. This went a long way. After stepping around town, I went further on the road into Grand Teton National Park. Magnificent Mountain ranges created awestruck feelings. It was Saturday, and there were all sorts of dudes in pickup trucks dressed in orange camouflage. Several had big game dangling in their truck beds. As I drove further into the park the snow began to pile higher and higher. By the time I got to Yellowstone, it was dark outside, and the snow was so bad that the roads were closed indefinitely. This meant that I had to back track and circumnavigate the Tetons. The roads were dangerous, so I had to drive slowly. By the time I made it back to Jackson it was 6pm. My next destination was Missoula Montana, an estimated 6-7 hours north. I had never intended on leaving that late, but when youíre on the Haul sometimes thereís not time to stall. In order for me to get to Montana, I had to go over Teton Pass; this is and was the most dangerous road that I have ever been on. As I ascended into the pass, the roads were narrow and with a snow covered base. Going up was real tough on the Phalcon, a lot of weight and altitude. Upon reaching the summit, the descent is what became quite dangerous. As I was driving down this one steep stretch, the Phalcon was gaining too much speed for the sharp 45-degree turn. Instinct told me that there was no way I could make the turn. So I tapped on the breaks, and she fish tailed. With sharp, jagged rock of the mountain on my right, and miles of cliff to my left, there was no time to panic. She fishtailed into a 360 into the turn. I was praying for my life, and I could see traffic headed towards me up the mountain. After the first 360, inertia kept her going, and we would do yet another 360, right through the turn and back into my lane. It all happened so fast and without incident or accident. As I drove out the after shock effects lasted throughout the mountain range. It was not until about an hour after the pass that I realized that that was my second near death experience on the Haul. I never knew the Phalcon could maneuver in such a way. The rest of the night I would be challenged by the elements on I-15 north to Missoula. Low clouds on an icy highway make for downright dangerous Phalcon flying conditions. I arrived in Missoula past midnight and grabbed a room for 2 nights at the Rode Way Inn.

The drive from Missoula to Mt Hood was quite diverse. I drove through several mountain ranges and then valleys, and eventually through city traffic in Spokane and then into the wide-open prairie spaces of eastern Washington. The sunlight began and ended there. It had been snowing and over cast through the mountains especially through the small historic mining town of Burke, Idaho. I stopped there for a roll of western history. Past the city when I reached the prairie, the sun broke through the clouds in the late afternoon. The weather was the warmest I had felt in a number of days. The sky was blue and orange and rays of violet were caught in the dramatic cloudscapes. When it got dark I drove through Pasco. When I got into Oregon, it began to rain again. I drove to Hood River, and called my host Paul Humphrey. Paul and I began the decade together back in Vermont at Green Mountain College. Freshman year at Green Mountain expanded my outlook on life into the 90ís. It was a haze full of fun and excitement and the sounds of embryonic Phish & Blues Traveler. It was the beginning of it all; a passage into the craziest, fastest decade on earth.

ÖI arrived in Hood River and called Humpty. He informed me that I had to climb over Mt. Hood to get to his place. It was another very, very challenging drive. Hood was getting dumped on. The sides of the road were easily a six-foot base in places. The roads were fresh with six inches of powder. There were periods of white out and fishtail hints. I finally made it after an hour to meet Humpty at his friendís pizza joint. Then we went back to his joint. Heís got a great joint.

Humpty lives in a rain forest underneath great big redwoods in an A-frame with a stream running under his deck. The inside is nice and warm with a wood burning stove and a nice office to communicate to you all through the internet. We woke up and eased on in to the day. By the time we got to the mountain it was mid afternoon. Billy Reardon, Paulís roommate works in rentals, heís a professional caddy during the spring and summer. At any rate, he hooked me up with some fine, fine boards. These babies were waxed for my experience as well. The conditions outside were by far the best that I have ever experienced in my life, and I am an experienced skier. It had been three years since I last hit the slopes, but after 3-4 runs I was getting in the zone. I love speed and making long GS turns grabbing air over small cliff tops at hills edge. I kept telling Humpty, one more run. Come on Humpty, one more run. It was awesome. Did you know that the Timberline lodge is feature in the film with Jack Nicholson, The Shining. It is I tell ya, it is. As a result of this web-site, and my previous visits to the northwest, Humpty had put together a party in honor of the Haul. He got a keg from Mt. Hood Brewery, and a bunch of really cool locals. We had a swell time. I showed my art and told them stories about the haul. Itís amazing how many people ask the same questions. It makes answering pretty easy.

What exactly is a Haul-Way in the Haul, one might ask during this holiday season. Well kids, it goes like this. On several occasions throughout my 77 days in the Haul, I come up on a little Haul-Way. Itís like a fork in the road that leads back to the main path. Itís an adventure in which people jump on the road, and we actually become a team of Haul experts and then we go out and capture a town or territory together. Each Haul-Way is very descriptive and rich with story detail. Johnny Mac starred in one, and so too did Johnny Bravo, and of course Key West was the weirdest Haul-Way of all. In this particular corridor of the Haul we come upon terror and strangeness. Humpty, Billy, and myself jumped in the Phalcon around 3pm on Wednesday. Humpty at the Helm, Billy laying back in the Phalcon Lounge, and Huff riding shotgun. We arrived through great travel karma at the ferry to Vashon Island where we would meet up with this eccentric dude named Vincent who I picked up hitchhiking on Marthaís Vineyard back in the middle of the decade during the summer of MV95, first summer in Huffís Hut. Vincent from Vashon. We arrived on the ferry mid evening and got right on. The ferry out west is plain and simple more efficient than the one I deal with out on the Vineyard. I cannot go into detail about that. We arrived on the island around say 10pm. Vincent met us at the local ginmill, and then took us back to his place and cooked a killer Salmon delight. Much needed healthy home-cooked meal. It was awesome.

I had know idea what I was in for when I met up with this particular Vincent. Vincent is a man of experience with many different lives it seems. Heís been through a lot just in the short time that I have known him. He is a survivor who is still searching for himself in many ways. Nonetheless a likable generous guy. He was really into capturing a good portrayal of his geographical Haul-Way. He took us all over the island and introduced us to very interesting and quirky individuals. He bought us fresh pears and covered our hot springs fees, but we had to pay the price of terror and unknown boundaries. Somehow Vincent had us all agree on going to these killer hot springs not knowing the measure of challenge that was involved. We drove upto North Bend,WA, to a back and beat up road. Then we had to drive that bumpy nausea creating terrain for a good 45 minutes to an hour. Vincent pushed me to an edge that I had not yet experienced on the Haul. I had lost all patience and lost my cool because we had been in the car so long, I could feel the same frustration disseminating from Billy & Humpty in the back seat. He also forgot to tell us about crossing a freezing cold stream in our barefeet and bare legs on 12/9/99 in the snow-capped mountains of North Bend,WA. When we got there all of us except Vincent searched along the raging stream for a dry rocky bridge. There was nothing. Somehow he convinced us to cross by crossing himself. I was so mad. That water was so cold it gave me a headache and loss of feeling in my feet for a good 25 minutes. Not only was it freezing cold, it was very rocky and full of rage. It was also a good 35 yards across. Then we had to hike higher and higher to these damn hot springs. "Hot Springs, whatís the big deal?" inside me a voice repeating the phrase. We finally got there, and I gotta admit, it was a really cool spot. I had never been to a hot springs before. There was a cave in which the main source fed into. It was pleasantly hot. We stayed in for awhile, warmed up, and then had to begin travels back. When I crossed the creek the second time, though I nearly froze to death, I sacrificed my boots. Jeez, it was dark at this point. Vincent had a problem with me keeping my boots on. I surely did not. I marched safely and quickly in my bare legs in the waist high waters of a Washington river in December. We drove back into Seattleís U-district for a nice meal at UWís Lox Stock. The cook was really cool, and we took care of him for taking care of us. After that we said goodbye to Vincent, and thanked him for his hospitality and also for the craziest most rigorous adventure, easily, in the Haul.

We arrived late Thursday night back at Humptyís place. Thankfully he drove. Billy passed out in the lounge, and I was asleep in the passengerís seat. Friday came and Humpty took me out to breakfast, and then out to work. We had to dice up and stack a few downed trees in a yard where a new home was under construction. It was raining, and we had the job complete in no time. He paid me generously for my labors. That night he took me out to dinner with Jeanie, and Jeanne, another friend, was our waitress. After dinner we all went over to Mike & Karen Quinnís place. They too went to Green Mountain College. Karen is pregnant, and Adam, their son, put on a great show for us as he ran around with energy fueled by our visit. Then the evening continued at the In Between, all sorts of people were there, and I said goodbye to all my friends in Mt Hood. It was great to visit with old friends in such a far away place from home.

I woke up and as usual left about 2 hours later than planned. I seem to have a way of doing that. What happens is, I just begin to feel really comfortable some place and then all of a sudden itís time to go. I have not stayed in one place for more than four days consecutively in nearly 16 weeks now. It will be nice to stop eventually, but right now Iím on a locomotive that cannot stop until the next centuryÖI woke up, said goodbye to Humpty & Jeannie, and then stopped over at Jeanneís place. What a fantastic house she lives in, full of space and outdoor beauty. She gave me some fresh music for the road, since I have exhausted my selection several times over. I got in the Phalcon, and we blasted 750 miles into San Francisco. It was yet another transition into a new Haul-Way. I would meet up with John Coyle & Mary Williams. Jenny was there too. This would be our third encounter in the Haul. By the way, I do keep track of these types of statistics. I saw Jenny in Atlanta in the 70ís, and then again in the late 40ís in Chicago, and yet again in the early 20ís in San Francisco. The only other person that I have encountered equally three times is James Sullivan. I stayed with him in the late 90ís in Rochester, then met up with him again in Maine in the late 60ís, and then again in Chicago in the late 50ís. There are also a half-dozen or so folks who I have seen twice in the Haul. I have been keeping detailed recordsÖBy the time I arrived in San Fran, it was 9pm. John, Mary, & Jenny were actually headed back to Maryís place in Menlo Park. I called them from Market & sixth. They were already in the car, so they got to me in no time. We went to a small party and then back to Maryís place. Apparently I snored something fierce, there were four of us sleeping in the same room together, and they all hated me the next morning. I will say this, Mary has the best hide a bed as far as comfort is concerned.

John took us all out to breakfast at this really cool joint called Buckís. The whole place is full of optimistic energy and great food. Their clever menus that had a newsletter format full of color pictures, and great stories impressed me. After breakfast John took us all on a tour. He showed us his new place up in Woodside, the trees were enormously huge. We stopped into the Mountain House for an afternoon drink, and then went on to the coast to watch some surfer dudes. This concluded with a hot chocolate sunset at Moss Beach outdoors facing the breakers under blankets on the outside terrace. Pizza was for dinner at this hip little spot in Menlo Park. Jenny had a flight back to Atlanta at 10pm. We took her to the airport, and then set up Maryís Christmas Tree. John & I went back to his place and crashed. This would become anchorage for the next 2 nights.

I woke up and I was the only at the house. John lived with 2 other guys, Jason & Will. It was a Monday morning and everyone had to go work or get their week started etc. Me, I needed to update you all. So I went out and grabbed a cup of coffee and stepped into myself and dripped out the words. Then all of sudden it got to be late, and I still needed to get to the Golden Gate. I went out crossed the bridge, and then parked the Phalcon at the visitors parking lot. The bridge was amazing. I walked out to the first tower and shot a mess of photographs. The city in the distance, the starry night, and this magnificent bridge created one of those moments that are permanently burned forever on your own human internal hard drive. I have focused a lot on taking pictures of bridges. Since a bridge is like a cusp, and a cusp is what you are experiencing at this current point in time. We are all passing through a mere crack in time. We are crossing a great big bridge into a brand new age. Itís exciting. When it got dark out I went down to Fishemanís wharf and had an open-face crab sandwich that was quite tasty.

John Muir, the American naturalist from the 19^th century has his own beach just outside of SanFran. I drove out there over the mountain pass and along the shoreline. The beach is a small cove with jagged rock, and enormous cliff structures. I arrived in early afternoon and hiked on up to the top of the cliffs. I sat down and then stared at the beauty of the Pacific and West Coast region of the US. California is the 48^th state that I have been in, in my 27years on earth. I wanted to take it all in, and I certainly was right there all alone by myself in a cloudless sky on top of the cliffs above the clean clear blue green waters. Late in the afternoon I went back to the Golden Gate and hiked it again. The sunset was better than the night previous. I went back to Jason & Willís place around 7pm. We then went to Trivia Night at the Kings Head Inn. This is an annual gathering among Willís friends from work I believe. There are a bunch of teams that get together and compete for free drinks and prizes. The trivia this particular week had a holidays theme.

Buckís is a great meeting place for successful VC types from the Silicon Valley. On Sunday we had spoken with the manager, Ron about the Haul. He told us to come back for breakfast on Wednesday, and that he would introduce us to some possible investors that might be interested in backing the project. You see, we are at the point now where we need to find a key investor or benefactor to underwrite the project. With the guidance of John Coyle, I am convinced that we will find one. After the Haul, absolute production must begin on the final product. Our first financial obstacle is getting all of the film processed the cost of this alone will exceed $6000-. If anyone is interested let me know. I will continue to ask until I get a yes answer from someone out there. At any rate, John and I defined a few things, and then he sent me on my way with a kind and generous cash donation, and a festive colorful wreath for the grill of the Phalcon. Sheís looking real pretty an festive at this point... I got on the road and took the Pacific Coast Highway all the way down to San Luis Obispo. The coast was unbelievable. My first stop was in Santa Cruz. I got my haircut there and then met up with this surfer dude named John, Coyle had called him after our breakfast. Santa Cruz was very cool, some of the best surfing in the world is there. I got back on the road and was greatly impressed by Pebble Beach, 17 Mile Drive, and Big Sur. The California coastline is one of the most magnificent places that I have ever driven. I arrived at an Econo Lodge after dark, grabbed a room, and set up Haul Headquarters. Generally when I get a room, it is about $40-, nothing fancy, just the basic amenities that I need to help furnish Haul simulcast. I carefully catalogue the days events and daily digital pictures. The TV is generally on for background effect, and my short attention span sometimes focuses in on whatever is on. I like Nic at Nite for some reason, lately Iíve been tuning in to the sweathogs. I am not one to get completely possessed by the television either. Itís generally on, and I am generally writing, drawing, or daydreaming. On this particular evening I was in cyberspace updating all the many questions that so many people out there continue to ask.

I woke up and eased on into the morning. The temperatures were in the 70ís, and the sky was clear and magically blue. I went to get something from the Phalcon Lounge, and then got discouraged by the mess at hand. While on the road, periodically the Phalcon gets trashed with the clutter of my many traveling possessions. Dirty clothes get tossed around and trash from junk food builds up, etc. etc. etc. There is only so long that I can take this chaos in the car. I was looking for my nail clippers, and they were no where to be found. I got upset and started crawling around the lounge and shouting obscenities at the Phalcon. All of sudden it was a major disaster area. I walked away and took a deep breath, then I went back to my room and took a shower to calm my soul. While in the shower, I decided that I would clean the Phalcon along the coast somewhere in some beach town. So, after I checked out I drove about 45 minutes, and found the lovely laid back beach town of Pismo. Pismo had a great coastal boardwalk, and plenty of parking space. So I drove the Phalcon to this lonely part of the lot and proceeded to empty her contents onto the pavement. It was a perfect day to do this: low winds, high temps, and a cloudless sky taboot. People stared at me while I spread my random crap all over the place, so I stared back- no big deal. I consolidated all of my wares, and took an inventory on my photographic product line. I was itching to show my stuff, I knew it would happen within the next 72 hours. Over the past 85 days I had sold a significant amount of greeting cards. In fact, I had sold out of such classics like My Foot. It was time to make more. So I located the necessary materials to do just that, and put them within reach so that I could make more at my next destination. Inside the cockpit, I windexed all the windows and discarded all the wrappers and trash in the waste barrel next to the Phalcon. The final project was attaching the fancy holiday wreath that John & Mary had provided up in San Fran. The Phalcon was tickled to death when I dressed her with this festive item. Then it was back on the road southbound with just 15 days remaining in the Haul. This day was the beginning of the end of the Haul. A 15 day passage homeward and beyond.

By the time I reached LA, it was that period in the day that one cannot escape if they are on the freeway 5-7pm, the worst of congested traffic and road rage. Since I had never been to LA, or my destination of Huntington Beach before, the traffic began to enrage my soul. So I turned on some live Bela Fleck to musically release the tension. I arrived in Huntington around 9pm. Steve & Sam were there waiting. These guys are my pals from Buffalo, and I had met up with them back on days 83-82, in New Yorkís capital district for phantastic weekend of Phish. Immediately they took me out for a bite to eat. We had a good time, they had just recently moved to the area, and everything was new to them as well. When I woke up on Friday, I was alone with the cats. It was around 10am, and I needed some fresh morning coffee. The Phalcon and I drove down to the strip and I grabbed generous cup of Starbuckís. While sitting at an outdoor table, waking up to the southern California air and spirit, I noticed in the distance a bunch of vending tents popping up along Main Street. Being unable to sit still and simply enjoy the coffee, I quickly sat up and darted over to a sexy hippy-looking artist. She looked at me funny, then I looked at my shirt and noticed that I had spilled some coffee in all of the excitement. She stared at my shirt, I looked at it, thought nothing of it, complimented her work, and then asked: "So whoís in charge of this gig anyway?" Within the hour, I began constructing my booth next to this handcrafted scrimshaw necklace artisan named Tom. He was both friendly and cool. The show was a great success. I wore an American flag top-hat and shouted "14 days remain!" This provoked curiosity and interest. It was a perfect day for a festival, and there were dozens of artisans in the streets. Steve & Sam showed up around the spectacular sunset hour. They took me out to dinner again, and then we went back to their place to rest up for Saturdayís special events.

Steve was very good about bringing us all vitallight. He awoke me rather early, and we got in the Phalcon and went down to the beach just up the road. We were still early, the morning hues of violet were in the horizon, so we walked out on the pier to the end. There were morning surfers catching waves, and all-night party people on the pier for the rising sun. The sun came up and beamed orange rays of light into the glistening warm waters of Huntington Beach. While we were experiencing the ascent, Sam was hard at work preparing a hearty breakfast. Sheís a great cook, she even baked me some fresh brownies for the road.

After we all ate breakfast, we headed for Venice Beach. Steve drove, Sam sat shotgun, and I was in the Phalcon Lounge capturing video, and enjoying the luxury of the Phalcon Lounge.

We arrived at the beach, and found a great spot to park right on the water. Then we stepped around all day and just observed the unique spirit that exists among the street performers and artisans. The day was again picture perfect, and there was plenty to look at. Rollerblading fools were trying to impress each other, and muscle-headed big were shots were wrapping curls at Muscle beach. Dudes were playing hoop, and musicians were igniting the souls of the lost and impaired spirit of the street folks. There was a man swallowing swords, and gypsy reading palms, all for cash. It was a West Coast version of Key West, or The Big Easy. Steve, Sam, & I all had a real swell time. The sunset was the most amazing part. If youíll notice, I have featured California sunsets over the past three days. They are just too amazing to keep concealed in my archives. After the sunset, we went into Santa Monica, for some dinner. The area in which we went was densely populated with Holiday shoppers. There were high-class street performances by human robots and musicians, all in the name of cash. Another retail store, Discovery, had a telescope that they were selling outside in the front entrance. The Salesman had it focused on the moon and Saturn. I saw the rings around Saturn, now that was cool.

Steve, Sam, and I woke up later than intended, but nonetheless got things rolling. Sam stayed behind as Steve and I went south to San Diego. It was a nice Sunday afternoon, and we went into Ocean Beach to walk the strip and grab a bite to eat. I liked this ocean town. It seemed more aged and laid back compared to Huntington, and nothing would compare to Venice, but OB was nice in its own way. As the sunset once again, we walked out to the pier.

After it got dark out, this Christmas scene came to life. The picture here somewhat shows the beauty, however the detail must be observed by the human eye. It is a magnificent sand sculpture with all sorts of detail. The picture captures the tree, and a faint Santa to the right of the tree. To the right of Santa is the town Christmas tree in the distance. This is located right at the edge of the strip just before the great Pacific Ocean. On our way home, we stopped at a car wash, and Steve filmed me bathing the Phalcon. It was a fun little video sequence. When we got back and saw Sam, she had prepared a tasty meal for us. It was a fantastic visit. These guys like all the others were very generous and hospitable continuing to make the Haul a magical Odyssey.

Alright Now, before i go any further and give you my words for the daily report, I must first tell you what has been going on during the Final Stretch. The United States is a much greater nation that I had anticipated. I thought that I could just trot along, set dates, and accomplish them. Who knew Iíd crash the Phalcon in the first six days? Who knew Iíd run out of money so early in the Haul? One thing the Haul has continued to reveal to me, is that I am just a mere individual that is affected by outside powers that be. These powers are not to be controlled, they must be accepted and dealt with as they approach. I have been able to adapt, for the most part, rather smoothly. And, I must adapt yet again. Right now it is the 23^rd of December. I am in Texas. I am a long way from home right now, about 1400 miles to be exact. I left the west coast Monday at noon, drove to Phoenix, stayed with Bud, and then drove to the west Texas town of El Paso where i expired in the Phalcon Lounge. I did not anticipate how long Texas really was. This is a rather long state when you are on I-10 with just 10 days of nineties expiration. As a result of this miscalculation, I am a day behind in the Home Stretch. So later on this morning, I will get in the Phalcon and drive through the Final Five States, accomplishing 48 states in less than 100 days. This is something that i did not anticipate either, which excites me. In order for me to accomplich this task, I need you all to continue to feed me positive mental vibes, because i will be experiencing extreme road fever over the next two days. By the Time I get home to my folks I will have driven over 26,000 American Miles. I will then have a week to manuever throughout New York & New England. This will be nice to be in one concentrated area for a change. I will not be able to correspond until Christmas. So, at this time, I want to wish you all a very safe and healthy holiday. Thanks so much for all support world wide, you all continue to amaze me. Drive Safely and be good to your families. The final week of this gig will offer detailed stuff that you will all appreciate. There will be several new featured columns offered, including a chat room. The chat room is in the works and will hopefully be ready for you all during the final days before our new age. I will be staying in Bar Harbor for the final 48hours. i have not reserved a room yet, and am still looking perhaps for someone to sponsor that? It will be there that I will chat with you live , if not sooner. At the End of The Haul is this great big room on an island in New England. I will go to that room, and gather all my notes, and videos, and photographs, and go straight to full production. It took 100 days to gather the material, so I am giving myself 100 days to produce the final draft. The Vital Light Website will continue to offer new things to look at, and in depth stories. If you thought this was it, you are entirely wrong. Weíre just getting startedÖÖAnyways, have a good holiday, and look here soon for detailed journal entries of the final 12 daysÖ..Thanks for your ignition of the Vital LightÖ..Huff

San Angelo, Texas Uncle Mike & Aunt Peggyís Place