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Walking this morning, a heavy mist and scent of sulphur wraps the sleeping village of Jackson Wellsprings. As luck would have it, we stumbled upon a hot springs driving from Jackson to Ashland last night. It’s a large temporary encampment of teepees and aging Rvs, cars and tents and dilapidated cottages that must have been built in the 20s or 30s. Lithia Springs is the famous mineral water that flows beneath Jackson County, surfacing with heat in this location and nearby ritzy spas. Also, as a drinking fountain where walkers and runners take the cure in Lithia Park. We ambled around for quite some time before discovering the registration desk, tucked in a sprawling community building that shields the pools. Pleased to find a private spot facing a meadow and picnic table between two old cottages (still virile enough to provide electricity) we donned our swimwear, showered and plunged.
As we dressed, we could hear a concert brewing, so we decided to check it out. “Lukas Nelson And The Promise Of The Real and The Human Revolution.” A very small man, about the size of Jake with a long ponytail was hopping around the stage.”Did you know,” said Michael, “That Willie Nelson is actually quite short? I guess his son takes after him. I’ve heard he’s an incredible musican.”
For about an hour we endured the ecstatic jam band humming along to such lyrics as “Clean food! Clean seeds! Healthy babies! Healthy Bodies!” Feeling hungry and quietly disappointed, we went to our gypsy wagon for some grub. I was feeling tired, so I tucked in with a book. Jake and Michael were wired, so they went back to the tent with cameras to see how the concert had evolved. After fifteen minutes Michael texted: “The Real Willie Nelson’s son is here, as promised. Real quiet soulful solo sound.”
I jumped out of bed. As I approached the tent I could here the unmistakable W. Nelson crooning voice. But then I saw—it was pouring out of the head of a beautiful young surfer in a MAUI t-shirt. He was delivering a divine stream of lovesongs. I confess to crying. Apparently he recorded them with Willie on the Heroes album. Have to check it out! Then the band joined him for a long riproaring set of stoner rock suitable for Salmonstock. Lukas is truly an amazing musician. The scene was a giant tent with a recessed stone fire pit (smokehole above) at one end, stage at the other, and layers of exotic carpets between. People were joining the Human Revolution every second – the floor gyrated and swam with ecstatics of every description. The most eccentric were hanging near us, to Jake’s chagrin: a large woman who appeared to be naked inside a short white fur coat. She had a giant fuzzy black top hat on, and beside her was a smaller man with a giant a raccoon tail spurting out of his pants. Together they added up to one fantastic beast. Swooping around the tent there were several yogis under the influence, driving themselves into distortions that would prove to be painful the next day and a few women busily shaking by the stage, “looking for backstage passes,” as Michael put it. On the whole, a very satisfying spectacle.
As we dressed, we could hear a concert brewing, so we decided to check it out. “Lukas Nelson And The Promise Of The Real and The Human Revolution.” A very small man, about the size of Jake with a long ponytail was hopping around the stage.”Did you know,” said Michael, “That Willie Nelson is actually quite short? I guess his son takes after him. I’ve heard he’s an incredible musican.”
For about an hour we endured the ecstatic jam band humming along to such lyrics as “Clean food! Clean seeds! Healthy babies! Healthy Bodies!” Feeling hungry and quietly disappointed, we went to our gypsy wagon for some grub. I was feeling tired, so I tucked in with a book. Jake and Michael were wired, so they went back to the tent with cameras to see how the concert had evolved. After fifteen minutes Michael texted: “The Real Willie Nelson’s son is here, as promised. Real quiet soulful solo sound.”
I jumped out of bed. As I approached the tent I could here the unmistakable W. Nelson crooning voice. But then I saw—it was pouring out of the head of a beautiful young surfer in a MAUI t-shirt. He was delivering a divine stream of lovesongs. I confess to crying. Apparently he recorded them with Willie on the Heroes album. Have to check it out! Then the band joined him for a long riproaring set of stoner rock suitable for Salmonstock. Lukas is truly an amazing musician. The scene was a giant tent with a recessed stone fire pit (smokehole above) at one end, stage at the other, and layers of exotic carpets between. People were joining the Human Revolution every second – the floor gyrated and swam with ecstatics of every description. The most eccentric were hanging near us, to Jake’s chagrin: a large woman who appeared to be naked inside a short white fur coat. She had a giant fuzzy black top hat on, and beside her was a smaller man with a giant a raccoon tail spurting out of his pants. Together they added up to one fantastic beast. Swooping around the tent there were several yogis under the influence, driving themselves into distortions that would prove to be painful the next day and a few women busily shaking by the stage, “looking for backstage passes,” as Michael put it. On the whole, a very satisfying spectacle.
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