In Memory of Caden Vincent Odell

I woke up this morning and was inspired to write a song for Caden. As some of you know the Anniversary of his death is this Friday the 19th. Last fall I was contacted by a guy in Kalispell who was organizing the planting of trees in a park/area near Glacier High School. The trees are meant to commemorate Kalispell's teenagers that have been killed or committed suicide in recent years. There is a tree planted there and at Kalispell Middle School in Caden's name. I was hoping that some of you could visit these sites on Friday and place some flowers for him. It sure would mean a lot to me and my family.

Caden’s Song

Daddy what are my boundaries this year?

When I ride my bike can I go over here?

I know you love me that much is clear

I just want to see what there is to hear

Daddy won’t you please let me go?

Daddy won’t you just let me go?

Daddy won’t you please let me go?

Because I won’t let you down

I’m asking you if I can spend the night

We won’t argue and I promise not to fight

It will be alright and I’ll make sure to do my best

Just say maybe ’cause I know that means yes.

Daddy won’t you please let me go?

Daddy won’t you just let me go?

Daddy won’t you please let me go?

Because I won’t let you down

Tonight there’s a concert can I go with mom?

I’ve got my drums and I’m gonna play a song

I know it’s last minute but can you come along?

I understand if you can’t don’t worry I won’t be long

Daddy won’t you please let me go?

Daddy won’t you just let me go?

Daddy won’t you please let me go?

Because I won’t let you down

Because I won’t let you down

Because I don’t let you down

Please say a prayer for Caden and have him in your thoughts this week. Thanks in advance everybody. I'm sending my love to you Bug! I miss you deeply.

The Rain in Spain Falls Mostly On Me

The rain continues to fall in Spain. Most people are saying that this is the most rain they have seen in fifty years. In fact, in several parts of the country there have been severe floods and record snow fall. Every time I see the news there are pictures of little European cars trying to cross impassable river roads. I came here to escape the winter but it followed me and my bad luck scent. Regardless of the weather I am making the best of my time here. Several weeks ago a British couple and their daughter decided to take a trip to Gibraltar and they let me tag along. We drove the three hour drive in their caravan. A caravan is a hippy wagon disguised as a camper. When we arrived we parked on the Spanish side and walked into Gibraltar. After you cross the boarder you then have to cross the Airport. A plane landed right behind us and the traffic was backed up for miles. It was quite a sight to see. The Airport has been extended off of the mainland out into the harbor. It must be nerve-racking to be a passenger. We spent the day browsing the English shops and later I found an expensive little hotel room. The next day I took a cable car to the top of the rock of Gibraltar. I hiked around the old military ruins and watched the monkeys watch me. The rock has five troops of Macauquay monkeys that are known by experts as "little bastards". On a previous trip, the family that I traveled with had an encounter with the monkeys. They were carrying a grocery bag filled with food, a stuffed animal and some clothes (I'm guessing that there was also patchouli oil, in-scents and an i-pod filled with Grateful Dead songs). The monkeys saw this bag and came at the family like thugs in a bad neighborhood. The head monkey grabbed the bag while the others stood guard and looked mean. They quickly itemized the contents and discarded anything inedible over the edge of the cliff. The couple's poor little daughter cried as she watched her teddy bear plummet to his death. She was so traumatized that she asked me not to take anything that I cared for around the monkeys. A fleeting image of wearing a cup came to mind. After a few hours of hiking around I found a nice vantage point to smoke a cigar. As I was reaching into my pocket for the cigar the monkeys spied my actions and started to move toward me. They are not much bigger than a Pomeranian but they have the intimidation level of a Doberman. I stood my ground, took the plastic wrap off of the little Cuban and they were on me. They obviously thought that this was a candy bar or possibly a small teddy bear. Just as they were about to jump me I put a lighter to the end of the cigar. They stopped in their tracks and actually waved a paw, or I guess a hand, at me as if to say 'oh its just one of those damn stinky cigars'. They then just turned around, showed me their leathery butts and ambled off - free to victimize the next unsuspecting bystander. I stayed another two days in Gibraltar and then said goodbye to the Brits and jumped on a bus heading further west to Tarifa, Spain.

The Tour Continues

Here is a shot of my penthouse apartment. The space is not tall enough for me to stand up in but the bed is comfy enough. Plus, when the weather warms a bit the plastic sheeting on the north side rolls up to let in fresh air. A kind of convertible penthouse. We will see if warmer weather shows up before I leave. For now I am using, four blankets, three pillows and my winter hat to stay warm at night. It only gets down to about 50 degrees at the coldest, so not too bad, but these are colder temps than I am used to sleeping in. The temperature during the day has been as high as 65 however, most people are saying that this is the coldest winter in the last fifty years. I am not complaining because I know that this beats Montana with a stick. When the sun comes out it is nice to find a warm rock to curl up on and watch the waves roll in. I have been walking up and down the shoreline finding places where I shouldn't be. I crossed some farm land to find this vantage point on the cliffs. This particular beach below me is called La Playa de Maro. It is only about a 20 minute walk and, as you can see, it is all mine. I still have not figured out this blog site's formatting requirements so enough for now before I hit the wrong button again. Hasta luego.

Guided Tour

I think it's time for pictures and maybe some general information about this area. This first picture is of the Barranco. Just past and slightly to the right of the big white tarp-looking thing is a large bush. This is Darcy's house. Down in the bottom at the end of the canyon just before the ocean is the evil cane tunnel. Climbing the ridge from there to the left is where Tom Hanks lives (you can see a few trees in this area). I took this photo from an old bridge that is always covered in water. When you cross it you have to decide whether you want mud on your shoes or water inside them. In the bottom of the canyon there are: at least four homes (piles of rocks and sticks), a family of four, a Russian lady (creepy looking) and some Spanish farmers. The family of four actually live on Darcy's land. The father's name is Billy and he was born in the States but moved to Spain with his parents and sister when he was eleven. He traveled with a gypsy circus for most of his teen years and can now often be seen and heard juggling and riding a unicycle in his backyard. He performs in fairs and festivals all over Spain. His wife and two daughters are very nice and come around quite often. The youngest daughter, Lela, calls me Gregorio because she thinks it bugs me. The thing is that is now quickly becoming my nickname. It is hard for the Spanish people to pronounce my real name. It always sounds like they are saying Shreck or Crepe. So, like my sister who goes by the name Ana, I am finding it easier to choose this new name. It keeps introductions simple. Well, I am now too frustrated with this blogger site to continue. I tried to add more pics but when I do it screws up the order of my sentences. So that is it for now. I will try again another time.

Urgent Beach

I decided to walk the length of the bottom of the barranco the other day. To do this you have to make your way down the canyon wall either by a super sketchy trail or the road which takes you quite a bit out of the way. So, being the direct route kinda guy, I made my own way avoiding both of the obvious paths. I bushwhacked my way to the bottom through thorn bushes and a bunch of tropical bullshit. On my way down I found a dead cat and the disgusting end to the sewage system. Lovely discoveries. Already I knew that this was going to be awesome. At the end of the canyon there is a very secluded little beach so I was still motivated to check it out. The trail to the beach has a section that is basically a dark tunnel about 75 yards long which is formed by sugar cane and thorns. I took one look down the dark hole and said "Nope, not going in there". I went up the side of the canyon to find a way around. This is about the time that my bowels started screaming bloody murder. Darcy says that my system is cleaning itself out. I agree with her but does my system have to use a fire hose to clean house? Needless to say, it was emergency purge time. I got to the top of the trail and found a shabby little tee pee made from cane. As I was about to search it for some toilet paper, noises from the bushes in front of me got my attention. Out stumbles this shipwreck of a guy chewing on a leaf and staring at me with crazy eyes. His pants and shirt were torn in the classic Hollywood fashion. The only thing missing was a volleyball named Wilson. I quickly tried to form a coherent Spanish sentence in my head. Something like: tienes papel de culo? Which, for those you that don't know Spanish, means holy shit you look crazy where is your volleyball? He immediately starts babbling in Spanish so I cut him off with my pathetic phrase. He understands what I am asking. I know because he bends over and imitates wiping his butt. Yes, I say with some desperation building. He proceeds to tell me that he has no toilet paper and instead he uses water. I turned to leave but he runs around me and blocks my way saying something like all the toilet paper you ever want is the other way. Which I think meant don't shit on my beach, I live here. "Too bad." I said, "My bowels want what they want". He keeps on babbling and I just wave him off and say, "Adios." In Spanish that means I'm going to shit where you eat. I leave him talking to himself and make my way to the beach. I scramble to find the other end of the dark cane tunnel and make my way inside. I whip down my shorts and do my business. As I am cleaning up in the little creek that runs out of the tunnel my eyes adjust to the dark and I begin to see that some one has made a camp right where my bathroom is. I can see a clothes line and a chair and maybe a person. I don't really know because I just quickly pulled up my pants and took off running with the hair on the back of my neck beginning to stand up. The only obvious route for my escape was deeper into the cane tunnel. It gets super creepy very quickly. I pulled my pocket knife out and ran through the tunnel once again like a panicky nut-bag. I make it to the other side and begin to calm down as soon as I can see the light of day. Eventually my heart stops racing and I make my way back to Darcy's house. I tell her about the freaky castaway guy and she tells me that he is a "skitz-so" named Santiago. She feels bad for me and tells me that she should have warned me about him. She also tells me that he has tormented her in the past. I let her know that I delivered a gift for her.

Hippies abound

I found out where all the hippies went after Jerry Garcia died. They are all safe and sound here in a little canyon called El Barranco de Maro. The barranco is located between the small town of Maro and the slightly larger town of Nerja to the west. The terrain in very rugged and is used mostly for agriculture. This is where Darcy lives with her husband Chu chi and their three children Mago, Hada and Sai. Word of mouth between the European hippies keeps a steady ebb and flow of squatters and travelers to the area. It seems like I meet a new face everyday. The feeling you get of this place is mostly calm and relaxed, that is if you can get used to all of the barking dogs. I awoke this morning to a huge dog ruckus. I grabbed the sling-shot and chased off a pack of three brown wild-eyed marauders that were guilty of killing all of Darcy's Guinna Pigs the day before. They had returned to the scene of the crime this time to chase a few of the chickens. I got off one shot that just missed one of the little bastards and then ran at the dogs like a screaming nut-bag in his skivvies. The dogs bailed over the side of the canyon with Darcy's dogs hot on their tails. Then I had a cup of coffee. There is quite a bit of life here. At first glance you might think that the area is unpopulated but soon you feel surrounded by animals and the smell of armpits. It reminds me of the parking lots in the early nineties outside of Grateful Dead shows. Peace dude.

Made it!

Hola everybody. I survived the trip. It was probably the hardest flight/bus traveling that I have ever been through. The hangover that I left Kalispell with was my ever present travel companion. Not the brightest move I have ever made. On top of that, I couldn't sleep at all and had a few dry heaves that had me eyeballing the vomit bag hanging on the seat in front of me. This was a first for me. Other than that, the flight to SLC and Atlanta were uneventful but my progress was delayed in Paris due to heavy fog. Watching out the window as the plane landed on a runway that I never saw scared the shit out of me. In all the trip took about 24 hours, twelve hundred dollars and about two years of my life. But like I said, I made it!