I have this vivid memory of driving with my friend Franz up from Greenville, TN, up into Western North Carolina. We picked up two hitchikers who noted the banjo in the back seat, broke open the case and proceeded to serenade us with Cripple Creek, Soldier's Joy, and several other mountain tunes. They also explained what all those white crosses were for on the switchbacks.

Once we got near Marshall, we looked up Franz's buddy who'd been living there for a year or so in a small valley with just enough room for a shack, a stream and the state road. He'd been writing songs, playing banjo, and was the one who introduced us to Obray.

I also went ground hog hunting with Obray which involved driving up and down hill roads in his blue Corvair, with his trusty rifle and scope. We brought back a nice fat one for supper, made a pleasant change from canned baked beans.

I have more memories coming back now about a truck ride up to the hills with a load of locust poles. We helped load them in exchange for guiding us to a supplier of White Lightning. We must have bumped around for hours as our guide stopped at several dozen houses and explained in detail our mission to his friends. We finally brought back a case of Mason jars brimming full, celebrated that night, and I even remember meditating for what seemed like hours with a security bucket on the floor in front of me. What joy!