Chapter Fourteen

July 1974
I worked on jewellery and glass projects, the panorama quilt, and the garden, and took walks. There were enough tomatoes to put up conserve and sauces and I took some of each to the Sunday night jam session. It was weird being there without them, James and George, but Betsey, Shirley, Karen, Anne, Maggie and I made up for their lack by leading the dancing for about four sets.
‘Girls night out in Idyllwild,’ Mike drawled when Karen came back to the jam, red-faced and sweaty. She picked up his beer. ‘At least we’re not out in the woods casting spells,’ she rejoined.
‘Bubble bubble toil and trouble –‘ Maggie said.
‘Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn, and caldron bubble,’ I corrected, without thinking.
Maggie laughed. ‘Pedantic!’
‘What’s the rest?’ Karen asked, leaning over for her fiddle.

‘ “Fillet of a fenny snake, In the caldron boil and bake; Eye of newt, and toe of frog, Wool of bat, and tongue of dog, Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting, Lizard's leg, and owlet's wing,
For a charm of powerful trouble Like a hell-broth boil and bubble… Scale of dragon; tooth of wolf; Witches' mummy; maw and gulf Of the ravin'd salt-sea shark; Root of hemlock digg'd i the dark; Liver of blaspheming Jew; Gall of goat, and slips of yew Sliver'd in the moon's eclipse; Nose of Turk, and Tartar's lips; Finger of birth-strangled babe Ditch-deliver'd by a drab, — Make the gruel thick and slab: Add thereto a tiger's chaudron, For the ingredients of our caldron.”’ I leaned back in my chair. ‘The Scottish play.’
‘I don’t want to mess with you chicks,’ Joe said, shaking his head.
‘Better not,’ said Maggie.

Mike launched into ‘Susanna Martin’ and we all had to scramble to follow. Maggie caught up first and sang,
Susanna Martin was a witch who dwelt in Amesbury
With brilliant eye and saucy tongue she worked her sorcery
And when into the judges court the sheriffs brought her hither
The lilacs drooped as she passed by
And then were seen to wither

‘A witch she was, though trim and neat with comely head held high
It did not seem that one as she with Satan so would vie
And when in court when the afflicted ones proclaimed her evil ways
She laughed aloud and boldly then
Met Cotton Mather’s gaze

‘"Who hath bewitched these maids," he asked, and strong was her reply
"If they be dealing in black arts, ye know as well as I"
And then the stricken ones made moan as she approached near
They saw her shaped upon the beam
So none could doubt 'twas there


‘The neighbors 'round swore to the truth of her Satanic powers
That she could fly o'er land and stream and come dry shod through showers
At night, twas said, she had appeared a cat of fearsome mien
"Avoid she-devil," they had cried
To keep their spirits clean

‘The spectral evidence was weighed, then stern the parson spoke
"Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live, tis written in the Book"
Susanna Martin so accused, spoke with flaming eyes
"I scorn these things for they are naught
But filthy gossips lies"

‘Now those bewitched, they cried her out, and loud their voice did ring
They saw a bird above her head, an evil yellow thing
And so, beneath a summer sky Susanna Martin died
And still in scorn she faced the rope
Her comely head held high.’

We went into the riffs, which became ‘Stormy Waters’, which became ‘Barefoot Nellie’ and ‘Cotton Eyed Joe’. Then Maggie began 'The Blacksmith' and all we ladies sang,
'A blacksmith courted me
Nine months and better
He fairly won my heart
Wrote me a letter
With his hammer in his hand
He looked quite clever
And if I was with my love
I would live for ever.

' But where is my love gone
With his cheeks like roses
And his good black Billycock on
Decked round with primroses
I'm afraid the scorching sun
Will shine and burn his beauty
And if I was with my love
I'd do my duty.

'Strange news is come to town
Strange news is carried
Strange news flies up and down
That my love is married.
I wish them both much joy
Though they can't hear me
And may God reward him well
For the slighting of me.

'Don't you remember when
You lay beside me
And you said you'd marry me
And not deny me
If I said I'd marry you
It was only for to try you
So bring your witness love
And I'll not deny you.

'Of witness have I none
Save God Almighty
And may he reward you well
For the slighting of me
Her lips grew pale and wan
It made a poor heart tremble
To think she loved a one
And he proved deceitful.'

It was a fine time.
At the end of the night, I was packing up and Joe asked me if I wanted a lift.
‘No, thanks. Fergus is outside. We’ll be fine. But I thank you, Joe, that’s mighty nice of you.’
‘Shoot,’ he said, ‘he’d lay into me if anything happened to you.’
I looked up. ‘Did he ask you to look after me?’
‘Would you be mad if I said yes?’
I laughed. ‘No. It’s adorable.’ I patted his arm. ‘I relieve you of any responsibility. I’d like the walk. I’m hot.’
‘Just so you know,’ Joe said.

Musing on the long walk home through the dark wood, with the dog at my thigh like a sentinel, I thought on how much we had become part of the community, more than I could ever have hoped. And in those few words exchanged, Joe had brought George’s presence very near. I had felt it, at odd hours, and knew that he was thinking or dreaming of me too. Now it was late. Perhaps they were coming back from a climb, or just in. There was no need for Alpine starts here; it was as good to climb with the light, rest in the middle of the day and climb late with headlamps, at this time of year…. I felt as if we belonged to this place now, had begun to add something to it. Tradition soaked into the night, which was still and warm.
‘Drinking all the day
In old pubs where fiddlers love to play
Saw one touch the bow
He played a reel which seemed so grand and gay…

‘Talking all the day
With true friends who try to make you stay
Telling jokes and news
Singing songs to pass the time away

‘Dreaming in the night
I saw a land where no one had to fight…
Sleeping where the falcons fly
They twist and turn all in your air-blue sky’

At the quilters’ meeting on Tuesday, everyone made sure I was okay, ‘living out there all alone in the woods.’ I was grateful for the caring, but it did make me laugh.
‘It’s not as if the Zodiac killer is in our neighbourhood!’ I protested. There was no crime in these parts, and we didn't even have a sheriff.
‘Well, you don’t know,’ Anne said, ‘there could be weirdoes… there are bears. Aren’t you afraid of bears?’
‘That’s what we have a gun for.’ I said serenely.
‘I can tell you are not Buddhists,’ Betsey joked.
‘I am not going to try and deflect a bear with good energy!’ I protested.’ That’s just stupid. Something city folk would think up. “Be one with the bear.” Phooey.’
‘The Indians do that,’ Shirley said seriously.
‘Before they shoot at them with arrows!’ Maggie said. ‘I’m with Claire. ’I’m not negotiating with something that wants to make me dinner. It’s not a fair contest.’
‘It’s all right so long as you don’t wander into their territory and threaten them,’ Shirley said. ‘Especially the mamas.’ She and Maggie laughed.
‘Yea, you gotta look out for those mamas,’ Maggie drawled.

There was silence for a few minutes. Then, Shirley, without looking up, said,
‘So are you going to tell them, or what?’
We all looked up. Maggie was grinning. ‘Okay, you got me, Shirl. Yes girls,’ she rolled a knot of thread off her finger, ‘it’s true. We’re waiting on bun number seven.’
There were squeals.
‘…I thought you said folk didn’t have babies here every day,’ I teased.
Maggie rolled her eyes. ‘Gawd, Claire, no sooner did I say that than I fetched up pregnant. I have to learn to keep my mouth shut!’ She laughed.
‘What did Joe say?’ Betsey asked.
‘Well, he went kind of pale, and then said he reckoned what was the difference, one more? We have all the stuff. But damn, I did just get Joshua out of diapers… Such is the life of womankind. Those that dance must pay the fiddler…. Sorry, Claire!’
I smiled. It was a good joke. But I was grateful it wasn’t me, not yet.

Shirley gave me a lift to the trailhead, and she asked what all of them must have been bursting to know: speaking of fiddlers, was there any chance of that our way? I didn’t think her question too nosey because she was the midwife, and said no then told her why not. She looked at me in surprise. ‘You’re the first person I’ve met out here to stick by wild carrot. My granny used that and gave it out to all the ladies, back in Kentucky.’ Shirley’s family were from the Daniel Boone National Forest. ‘Fine girl you are!’
‘Thanks.’

On Wednesday at teatime he was home. All the doors and windows were open, because the day was still in full heat. I had spent the morning in the garden with the dog, but about ten it had become far too hot, so we went indoors, where I worked on a new necklace. The bluejays called in the searing skies, and in the silence from up the path I heard an unmistakable jangling – karabiners! Popping my head up, out the bedroom window, I saw him in the shimmering heat, in a thin white Indian shirt, with a scruffy beard, deeply tanned, eyes scanning like some ancient hunter. I pushed the bead tray aside and jumped up.

George dumped everything unceremoniously at the door and stepped inside. 'Woman of the house!' He cried, the traditional greeting, and ran, open armed, as I came into the common room. He swept me up, and with a thousand kisses laughed, and said, 'I love you! I missed you! darling darling girl.'

'It's of a jolly beggarman
Came tripping o'er the plain
He came unto a farmer's door
A lodging for to gain
The farmer's daughter she came down
And viewed him cheek and chin
She said, "He is a handsome man.
I pray you take him in."

'The farmer's daughter she got up
To bolt the kitchen door
And there she saw the beggar standing
Naked on the floor
He took the daughter in his arms
And to the bed he ran
She says, "kind sir, be easy now,
You'll waken my old man."'

He had a few bruises, many scrapes from brushing against rocks, and was very lean, with broken fingernails, and a tremendous appetite that evening. After a cold bath, he lured me back to bed, smelling of soap and looking as innocent as an angel, to go through his journal and tell me all about the climbs they'd made. He was happy as a child. Happy with the climbing, happy to be home, happy with life. It was really joyous to see him so alive.
'We started off on some of the 5.8s on Tahquitz,' he said, 'to warm up and get a feel for one another. I had the feeling he might have preferred starting off on some of the 5.5s. The first day I was sceptical of climbing with him,’ George admitted of James. ‘He seems so much one of the “bag the summit” types, who wouldn’t have good flexibility or endurance, and while he’s a little solid, he goes well, and never had a problem with bulk on a pitch.

'We did Grandnote as a compromise because it has some 5.7 pitches. It's all third classsing getting up there, as you know, just scrambling, There's a chimney at the start, but you have to spring into it because it's got some bushy outcropping. The first pitch is a left-facing corner, not too complex, just finger work, until you get about halfway up, and then you have to swing round the corner and back because there's a boulder in the way. The rest of the pitch is just a left corner until you get to the ledge – it's good six-inch ledge, a nice belay where you can stand and look down into the valley. There's a bit in the pitch above where you can swing over onto some easier rock – the holds here are very fine - but I think it's part of another route. From here there's a good bit of traversing the face by nicks. But you have to look for them, and all of a sudden you come to the ledge and you're home free. The rest is all fourth class. The holds are really big and easy, to the top.'

Apart from Grandnote, they did Last Grapes, which was a thin crack climb; Liken to Lichen, and the Y Crack, which George raved about for the view. Through the week they progressed to the 5.11s – Le Toit and the Magical Mystery Tour, The Sham and Zeno's Paradox before doing the Edge, the Last Judgment and the TurboFlange. Then James felt game enough for the Hangover, which was a 5.12, so called because it was an overhang, traversed over to from the Last Judgement. Then they moved on to Suicide, where almost all the climbs began at the 5.10 range, with a lot of face climbing. They did Valhalla and the Paisano, both the Pinnacle and the Overhang. The one break that James had on Suicide was a long chimney climb, a 5.7, called Major. Minor ran over to the right and was a crack climb.

When we were in the General a couple of days later, James said to me, ‘I never realised how all arms and legs Geordie was, until I saw him on rock in rock shoes and shorts. He seemed a little skinny to me, but my God, you never saw such grace and strength on an overhang! Hove himself over the Paisano on Suicide like he was swinging into a T-bird on the main drag. I was impressed.’

I had to smile, because I had seen it all in Wales and the Lake District, and so knew what James had not: that George was a magnificent climber, all perfect balance and surprising strength. The Paisano, George said, was a 5.12.c, and had just been climbed a couple of weeks ago, by John Long. 'Jimbo didn't tell me until after we did it that Long John did it with duct tape wound about a pair of welding gloves. All I had was chalk and guts. I was mighty cheesed off, as I was leading.'

‘It scared the shit of out me though, pardon me,’ James was saying, ‘because he hardly uses any pro, and would be up a pitch almost before I had the belay.’
‘He free climbs a lot,’ I said, ‘on his own.’
‘That’s what he said,’ James nodded. ‘Man, what an experience… I get the slides back tomorrow, do you two want to come to dinner and have a look?’
‘Do you think Betsey can stand us?’ I grinned.
George came over with the groceries. ‘Doing what?’
‘Talking about climbing for hours –' I said. ‘James has invited us to look at the slides.’
‘Right you!' George grinned. ‘She’ll have to. I want you to see so you can really know what I was talking about.’
‘If you want,’ James offered, ‘I can make snapshots from the negatives.’
‘Yes!’

We did go to dinner, and the pictures were awesome. When I saw the Paisano overhang, I gasped. The crux is a fourteen-foot pure horizontal climb – upside down – then up over the huge face of the overhang. All with a thousand foot drop below you.

On Friday night, at the end of the first set, Joe launched into 'Carolina Sweetheart' and oh, we were going! Maybe because we were the full group again, but there was magic in the playing, and Maggie and Joe's great harmonies.

Carolina sweetheart
Oh, how I miss you so
Carolina sweetheart
I'll never leave anymore

'I'm going back to the mountains
To the place that I left so long ago
A place where I spent a happy childhood
And left the sweetest girl I've ever known

'When I get back to the old home
We'll stroll by the riverside
And look way up to the mountains
I know that someday you will be my bride

'I hope that you will be waiting
For I'll be there in just a day
So please be waiting by the road, dear
And walk with me along the old pathway'

At the end of it, folks in Mosey's were clapping and stomping and hooting, and Mike leaned over to Joe and said, 'Brother, we should take this gig on the road.'
Joe looked askance. 'You mean a band?'
'Yeah, locally, or maybe to festivals.'
'Shoot!'
'Carolina sweetheart, man – look at them.'
Joe frowned thoughtfully then punched Mike playfully on the shoulder. 'Let's talk about it, bro.'

And that is how we formed a bluegrass folk band, Carolina Sweetheart. We played at the Idyllwild Bluegrass Invitational, where George won the fiddling competitions, and later did a lot of festivals over the next twenty six years: Blythe in mid January; the Riverside County Fair in February, which was always Joe's favourite; Temecula around St. Patrick's Day; Strawberry, up in Yosemite, in the third week of May; Live Oak in Santa Barbara in mid June; Big Bear at the end of July; Summergrass in the third week of August, my favourite; Strawberry again at the end of August; Millpond in Bishop in mid-September; more rarely the Julian festival in mid-late September because it too often conflicted with Strawberry or Wobbly.

We got used to taking our gig on the road, the lot of us in a great caravan of trucks, kids, pets, and trailers. It was a great bonding experience, sharing all the laughs and hazards of the road, meeting new people and learning new songs. We wore out the jeep beyond repair eventually – its breaking down regularly became one of the hazards of the road, a running joke- and got a second hand truck at the Hemet swap-meet, for a dollar and helping the guy to re-shingle his roof. Coming back home to Idyllwild became like coming home to Nashville.