Chapter 17. Overdose and Emotion.
NOCA: A Daily Testament of Youthful Discovery in the Wilderness.
Please note: this story is part of a larger series. Please feel free to start at the beginning!
July 29
As the day progressed, our colleagues returned from their excursions. Barry and Tom made it home first, followed by Gretel and Gary. Finally, Heather and Amity made it back safely. Heather said she spent 25 hours in our leaking bivvy tent at Egg Lake, above tree line in a hail storm.
Barry didn’t have an issue with Julia and my slacking, even after admitting that we had skipped Andy’s plots to hang out in Mazama. We were commended for our house cleaning, but The Bird House quickly became filthy as all the backpackers moved back in. Everyone was jubilant and energetic even though they were exhausted from a challenging work week.
We all agreed that the time had come to throw and end of the season party. We were anxious to celebrate our summer together. Heather and I drove to the Chevron to buy some craft beers and when we returned Rob and Kurt had arrived wielding a massive salad. Julia created a casserole that consisted of everything in the fridge that needed getting rid of. We dined as a big family in the living room. Talk was boisterous and we were filled with excitement. There was a buzz in the air. Each of us paid special attention to one another.
After a few beers, Heather and I walked next door to visit Will one last time. I brought my guitar over and he and I had a jam session in his front lawn. A friend of Will’s from his roofing business had a djembe, so we all made sweet music in the twilight, as tiki torches flickered in the breeze.
By the time Heather and I had returned, The Bird House had became a nut house. It was a sweaty dance club in Cancun. The scent of hippie floated in the air and rave music overwhelmed the tiny kitchen. The crew was up in arms, lost in a wild and flailing dance. Everyone was half-naked with orange flagging tied to their bodies. They were jumping up and down on the kitchen floor and I felt like I was in a mosh pit at a nudist medal concert. The floor was a taunt trampoline as people stomped rhythms with their bare feet. This was a band of savages worshipping their gods! Tom gyrated his pelvis like a crazed pervert with a flashlight tied to his crotch; the phallic flashlight of bad dreams. His flashlight was turned on and he created a strobe light effect throughout the smoke filled room. Barry had a six-pack box strapped to his head and wore thick black spectacles. Gretel boogied down with a spaghetti strainer on her head that had orange flagging tied all over it. Heather and I didn’t know how to respond, it felt as if we had been zapped back to Woodstock, except with rave music. We were spun around, being bounced off of and pushed on, it was barbarous. The vibe eventually grabbed ahold of us and we lost it like the rest of the banshees, caught up in the mad exultation of life.
After a few songs, Heather and I found sanity in the locked bathroom. We hid out while the wild ones chanted and pounded on the walls. We heard the music mellow and we emerged to see Julia sautéing marijuana to make pot brownies. The brownies were surprisingly delicious, the rich chocolate was all I could savor.
After devouring the magic brownies, the party moved outside. Tom poured white gas on some gathered wood and we danced and sang songs around the firelight. I brought out my guitar and played songs in a haze of consciousness. Suddenly, our fierce leader Barry began a maniacal chant… “Let’s jump in the Skagit…Let’s jump in the Skagit!” He repeated this over and over until the group was convinced it was the right thing to do. I grabbed ahold of the half naked Kurt and Heather was right behind me. Julia led the pack, followed by Gary, Barry, Rob and Tom. My feet were bare and I was shirtless as our crazy train crossed Highway 20. We found an enigmatic and muddy trail through the trees and darkness enveloped us. I could no longer see who or what I was holding onto, but I followed the loud chant that filled the riparian corridor with sounds that hadn’t been heard for thousands of years. The moon shone off the mighty Skagit as we approached.
Clothes began to fly and I suddenly heard a splash and a scream. The magic brownies had integrated into my nervous system and I was on the verge of a freak out. One by one, each of us lost our minds and dove into the icy glacier melt water sending ripples of shimmering moonlight across the river. I dropped my drawers, said my prayers and took a leap of faith after Heather had made the plunge. The water absolutely ate me alive and it was then I realized I had overdosed on the enchanted brownies. As I stood on the shore of the Skagit, I saw the shadows of my naked friends all around me. My teeth chattered uncontrollably. I threw on the shirt that I had stuffed into the back pocket of my pants and stood, naked from the waist down, trembling wildly. I was having an out of body experience. The loonies, fresh out of their padded cells, surrounded me on all sides and it felt as though I had taken the final plunge into madness. Heather picked up on my vibrations and when I hugged her, I felt our energies combine and fly from us, into the night sky.
Everyone emerged from the forest and ran across Highway 20. I stopped on the double yellow lines of the highway to put some clothes on. Heather and I both had intense shivers and I was wasted, as if I had slipped into another dimension. Heather and I ran into our room, to attempt to get a grip. Suddenly, my world began to spin and I got up to vomit out the window. I couldn’t feel my body and I nearly fainted. I lay down on our floor and puked into a stew kettle. Being indoors was too much for me to handle, so I stumbled out onto the front lawn, where I continued to vomit. I laid in the front yard in what felt like an early grave. Meanwhile, Heather was on the front porch having tiny epileptic seizures. Somehow, she was able to gain her wits enough to grab our sleeping bags and pillows and made us a bed on the front lawn. I couldn’t speak and I finally passed out, with Heather by my side.
July 30
I woke to the loud roar of a semi driving by, a few feet from our bed. Heather and I scrambled into The Bird House in the dim light of dawn and slept off and on until 6pm. I had never felt so annihilated in all of my life. I finally regained my mind and could eat Ramen noodles and crackers by 8pm.
Our last night in Marblemount, Washington is here. The house is cleaned out and Amity has already left without saying goodbye. Tomorrow, we will all be on our separate ways, back to New Jersey, Oregon, Wisconsin, California, and Kansas. We are left with thoughts and memories of our incredible time spent in NOCA. I can’t begin to reflect upon the wonders of this summer.
July 31
We slept inside the house on our final night in Marblemount. Our room felt vacant and lonely, as was the rest of the house. It was a melancholy morning with abundant colorless clouds overhead. I hadn’t missed my new found life until I stepped outside to see the Honda Accord all packed up. Everyone else had spent their last night sleeping out, underneath the stars. Gretel, Tom, Gary and Julia walked in the back door for their last time.
We all shuffled around and prepared to leave. I gave each crewmember a warm hug as we said our good-byes. Barry gave me an awkward handshake and Heather and I walked along the L-shaped sidewalk in the front lawn, to our car and drove away.
Suddenly, we are far away, glancing at pictures from our summer, trying to catch a whiff of some cascadian air on a pleasant morning of birding, but there is no such thing on our route. We dream of the cold Skagit, but it is not here. We are no longer field biology interns in NOCA.
I feel as if I am driving away from my home and it hurts deeply. NOCA has changed my life. If I am a pilgrim, NOCA would be my Mecca. When I return to Kansas, I will show photographs to my family and friends, and I am certain they will be amazed, but until they have grunted up Desolation Mountain, stared at Hozemeen Mountain shrouded in gloom, watched a sunset from Sahale Glacier or had a 360 degree view of the world from Sourdough lookout, there will always be a gap between us.
Read next…Chapter 18. There is No Place Called Home.
