Chapter 3 — Ron’s Place and the Long Way Back
We turn into Ron’s driveway,
and he’s there to greet us.
I scan the land around us—
it looks like a hundred acres of cannabis
stretching out in every direction.
“Dude,” I say,
“give me some flowers to take to Terry
at the show in the Gorge.”
Ron shakes his head.
“There’s no THC in these flowers.
I’m growing them for CBD.
I take the profits to the pot shop
and buy some real buds—
the greatest highs I’ve ever experienced.”
Then he laughs and says,
“So it goes.
The dogs ate my pot again.”
He points at them—
wobbling around the yard,
rubber legs, eyes half gone,
completely intoxicated.
I tell Ron I’ve got cannabis oil to vape.
He waves it off.
“I’m old school.
Not into THC vape.”
Instead, he shows me how he does it—
squeezing the flowers with a little heat.
“There you go,” he says.
“Hemp rosin. All CBD.
Fully legal under the 2019 Farm Bill
signed by President Donald Trump.”
“That’s great,” I tell him.
I add that THC being reclassified recognizes
that cannabis has medical value—
like all plants God created—
and that it opens the door for research
that was never allowed before.
Ron hands me a jar of CBD resin.
“Take this,” he says.
And just like that,
Paul and I are back on the road.
We crawl slowly over potholes and ruts,
doing everything we can
not to destroy the Corvette.
“We should take this thing up Buttermilk Butte,” I joke.
Paul laughs.
“I hear it’s all rutted out—
washouts everywhere.
Dennis told me.
He and Terry went up there
to scatter Ronnie’s ashes.”
I say maybe next time,
if we head up to fish Black Pine Lake,
we’ll take a look—
hoping there’s room to turn around
if the road’s blocked.
Dennis swore he’d never drive up there again.
I remember the Ford Taurus we destroyed
trying that road once—
flat tire at the top,
standing there staring out
at the purple mountain majesty.
The spare was completely flat.
But somehow we had cell service—
enough to call Terry
and have him save the day.
It’s comforting to know
I’ve always had 911 Terry on speed dial.
My dad had left a twelve-volt compressor in the car.
We managed to force enough air into the spare
to crawl back down that washed-out road—
slowly, carefully—
back to safety
and the comfort of our camp
at Black Pine Lake.
www.MethowValley.org-2026
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tristanbgilb
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- Contact:
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tristanbgilb
- Posts: 1389
- Joined: Tue Sep 01, 2020 9:20 pm
- Contact:
Re: www.MethowValley.org-2026
Chapter 2 — The Road and the Sign chatgpt edit
As I drive on through Twisp,
I see Jesus Christ Superstar.
He’s standing in a small crowd on the highway,
right in front of the community center—
a loose mob of protest and prayer,
signs held high against the cold.
I slow down.
I stop.
“Jesus Christ Superstar,” I call out.
“What are you doing, Paul?”
He looks at me calmly, cardboard sign in his hands.
“Read my sign, Tristan.”
I do.
Homeless. Helpless.
Can you spare a dime?
I tell Paul I’m headed to the greatest concert on earth—
Terry is the headline band.
Paul nods and says,
“That’s the opportunity of a lifetime.”
We roll on together.
At the train station, I pull in for fuel
and the coldest beer in town.
I turn to Paul and ask,
“You got any gas money?”
It dawns on me—I’ve spent my last ten dollars
on a gram THC vape cartridge.
“I only have hundred-dollar bills,” Paul says.
“That’ll do.”
I fuel up, grab the beer,
and I’m left with five dollars—
just enough for a pack of gum.
Then we’re off.
Twenty-five miles an hour
in a sixty-mile zone,
rolling down Highway 153
through Carlton, Methow,
and finally into Pateros.
Paul tells me,
“Go right. That’s south on Highway 97.”
Cars blast past us, honking,
as if I’m the most evil driver alive—
but I’m driving careful,
over snow and ice,
braking for deer and wild goats.
Slow and steady,
working our way toward George, Washington.
“Hey dude,” I ask Paul,
“how much farther?”
He looks at the GPS and declares,
“This thing hasn’t been updated in twenty years.”
Sure enough, it leads us off course—
up McNeil Canyon Bridge,
just past Beebe Bridge on Highway 97,
then a sharp left.
And just like that,
we’re lost as hell.
“What do we do now?” Paul asks.
“I’ll call Ron,” I say,
“as soon as we get some cell service.”
At the top of the hill,
the phone lights up with bars.
I call Ron.
“Ron,” I tell him,
“we’re lost.”
“Where are you?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I say.
He laughs.
“I think you’re almost to my place.
Come on over—let’s get you here for a pit stop.”
And so we head toward Ron’s,
the road bending again,
the night still young,
the greatest show on earth
somewhere out there waiting.
As I drive on through Twisp,
I see Jesus Christ Superstar.
He’s standing in a small crowd on the highway,
right in front of the community center—
a loose mob of protest and prayer,
signs held high against the cold.
I slow down.
I stop.
“Jesus Christ Superstar,” I call out.
“What are you doing, Paul?”
He looks at me calmly, cardboard sign in his hands.
“Read my sign, Tristan.”
I do.
Homeless. Helpless.
Can you spare a dime?
I tell Paul I’m headed to the greatest concert on earth—
Terry is the headline band.
Paul nods and says,
“That’s the opportunity of a lifetime.”
We roll on together.
At the train station, I pull in for fuel
and the coldest beer in town.
I turn to Paul and ask,
“You got any gas money?”
It dawns on me—I’ve spent my last ten dollars
on a gram THC vape cartridge.
“I only have hundred-dollar bills,” Paul says.
“That’ll do.”
I fuel up, grab the beer,
and I’m left with five dollars—
just enough for a pack of gum.
Then we’re off.
Twenty-five miles an hour
in a sixty-mile zone,
rolling down Highway 153
through Carlton, Methow,
and finally into Pateros.
Paul tells me,
“Go right. That’s south on Highway 97.”
Cars blast past us, honking,
as if I’m the most evil driver alive—
but I’m driving careful,
over snow and ice,
braking for deer and wild goats.
Slow and steady,
working our way toward George, Washington.
“Hey dude,” I ask Paul,
“how much farther?”
He looks at the GPS and declares,
“This thing hasn’t been updated in twenty years.”
Sure enough, it leads us off course—
up McNeil Canyon Bridge,
just past Beebe Bridge on Highway 97,
then a sharp left.
And just like that,
we’re lost as hell.
“What do we do now?” Paul asks.
“I’ll call Ron,” I say,
“as soon as we get some cell service.”
At the top of the hill,
the phone lights up with bars.
I call Ron.
“Ron,” I tell him,
“we’re lost.”
“Where are you?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I say.
He laughs.
“I think you’re almost to my place.
Come on over—let’s get you here for a pit stop.”
And so we head toward Ron’s,
the road bending again,
the night still young,
the greatest show on earth
somewhere out there waiting.
-
tristanbgilb
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- Joined: Tue Sep 01, 2020 9:20 pm
- Contact:
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tristanbgilb
- Posts: 1389
- Joined: Tue Sep 01, 2020 9:20 pm
- Contact:
Re: www.MethowValley.org-2026
chapter 1
A Story, Remembered- by Tristan B Gilbert edited by chatgpt.com
In words, I pray for time—
for one more day.
I was once Terry’s poodle, happily so,
gratefully serving my friend and elder.
There was a lifetime of wisdom in him—
the greatest guitar hero I ever had the pleasure of knowing.
He was real. Often quiet.
A man from a place where chivalry never dies.
Terry played shows where crowds fell silent in awe,
a true professional entertainer
holding court in humble music clubs,
beer and spirits on the tables,
music in the air thick enough to breathe.
Bryce plays guitar too.
He is a great person.
Here’s how the story goes.
I’m listening to KFAC 105.5 FM in Twisp, Washington,
sitting in my 1980 black Corvette—
or maybe remembering how I got it.
Before that car, I was riding around town
on my classic GT Pro BMX bicycle,
when I roll up on Bryce.
He’s standing over his Corvette, hood popped,
making adjustments to the carburetor.
I tell him,
“I need to get to the Gorge in George, Washington.
Terry’s playing. The Eagle River Band will be there.
It’s going to be the show of a lifetime.”
I ask to borrow his Corvette.
“No way,” Bryce says.
So I beg him to sell it to me.
He laughs and says,
“Mr. President of the Black Panthers,
you don’t have enough money to buy my Corvette.
I know this cannabis war has devastated you financially.”
He wasn’t wrong.
“But there has to be a way,” I tell him.
“Merle Haggard will be there.
Johnny Paycheck too.”
Bryce looks at me and says,
“Trade me your GT Pro bicycle.”
“No way,” I reply.
“My GT Pro is worth ten times your Corvette.
It was built and gifted to me by Nathan the Great One—
a legend, a renegade, a man no one messed with.
That bike is priceless.”
Bryce shrugs.
“Take it or leave it.
The Corvette will get you there,
and you won’t miss the greatest show on earth.”
So I take the keys.
I hand over the GT Pro.
I pull carefully out of Bryce’s driveway
and ease onto Highway 20,
the North Cascades Highway.
Before heading east, I stop to see Larry.
“Hey Larry,” I say.
“I need my tire pressure checked.
I’m headed to the Gorge—
Terry, Merle Haggard, Johnny Paycheck,
John Denver, Jerry Garcia.
It’s going to be wonderful.”
Larry checks the tires, adjusts the air,
then looks at me sideways.
“How is it you’ve got Bryce’s Corvette?” he asks.
“I thought he loved that car.”
“I traded my GT Pro for it,” I tell him.
Larry laughs.
“You got ripped off.”
I smile and say,
“The Corvette has a brand-new engine.”
“Yeah,” Larry says, shaking his head,
“but that was the greatest bicycle ever built—
the one given to you by Nathan the Great One.”
Maybe he was right.
But the Corvette would get me there.
And sometimes, the road matters more
than what you leave behind.
A Story, Remembered- by Tristan B Gilbert edited by chatgpt.com
In words, I pray for time—
for one more day.
I was once Terry’s poodle, happily so,
gratefully serving my friend and elder.
There was a lifetime of wisdom in him—
the greatest guitar hero I ever had the pleasure of knowing.
He was real. Often quiet.
A man from a place where chivalry never dies.
Terry played shows where crowds fell silent in awe,
a true professional entertainer
holding court in humble music clubs,
beer and spirits on the tables,
music in the air thick enough to breathe.
Bryce plays guitar too.
He is a great person.
Here’s how the story goes.
I’m listening to KFAC 105.5 FM in Twisp, Washington,
sitting in my 1980 black Corvette—
or maybe remembering how I got it.
Before that car, I was riding around town
on my classic GT Pro BMX bicycle,
when I roll up on Bryce.
He’s standing over his Corvette, hood popped,
making adjustments to the carburetor.
I tell him,
“I need to get to the Gorge in George, Washington.
Terry’s playing. The Eagle River Band will be there.
It’s going to be the show of a lifetime.”
I ask to borrow his Corvette.
“No way,” Bryce says.
So I beg him to sell it to me.
He laughs and says,
“Mr. President of the Black Panthers,
you don’t have enough money to buy my Corvette.
I know this cannabis war has devastated you financially.”
He wasn’t wrong.
“But there has to be a way,” I tell him.
“Merle Haggard will be there.
Johnny Paycheck too.”
Bryce looks at me and says,
“Trade me your GT Pro bicycle.”
“No way,” I reply.
“My GT Pro is worth ten times your Corvette.
It was built and gifted to me by Nathan the Great One—
a legend, a renegade, a man no one messed with.
That bike is priceless.”
Bryce shrugs.
“Take it or leave it.
The Corvette will get you there,
and you won’t miss the greatest show on earth.”
So I take the keys.
I hand over the GT Pro.
I pull carefully out of Bryce’s driveway
and ease onto Highway 20,
the North Cascades Highway.
Before heading east, I stop to see Larry.
“Hey Larry,” I say.
“I need my tire pressure checked.
I’m headed to the Gorge—
Terry, Merle Haggard, Johnny Paycheck,
John Denver, Jerry Garcia.
It’s going to be wonderful.”
Larry checks the tires, adjusts the air,
then looks at me sideways.
“How is it you’ve got Bryce’s Corvette?” he asks.
“I thought he loved that car.”
“I traded my GT Pro for it,” I tell him.
Larry laughs.
“You got ripped off.”
I smile and say,
“The Corvette has a brand-new engine.”
“Yeah,” Larry says, shaking his head,
“but that was the greatest bicycle ever built—
the one given to you by Nathan the Great One.”
Maybe he was right.
But the Corvette would get me there.
And sometimes, the road matters more
than what you leave behind.
Last edited by tristanbgilb on Mon Jan 19, 2026 10:07 am, edited 1 time in total.
-
tristanbgilb
- Posts: 1389
- Joined: Tue Sep 01, 2020 9:20 pm
- Contact:
Re: www.MethowValley.org-2026
sound off
3 and 4
take this life
and live some more
pleasantries
master mind
for the divine
unnatural sensation
hoping for more
running scared
nowhere else to go
big tax
smash
islands disappear into the ocean
flocks by night
the right
and wrong
singing
my song
taking in
running around
chicken little
where is your crown
help me i fell
and went to the sun
burning eyes madness
so much gladness
the nun
she glowed
blinging light
little insight
a moment in time
that I cannot ignore
what is to know
what is to say
trembling with hope
smoke the rope
vapor barriers
send me home
all alone
featuring the past
catholic mass
what shall I be
what can I do
lasting and churning
my heart is burning
3 and 4
take this life
and live some more
pleasantries
master mind
for the divine
unnatural sensation
hoping for more
running scared
nowhere else to go
big tax
smash
islands disappear into the ocean
flocks by night
the right
and wrong
singing
my song
taking in
running around
chicken little
where is your crown
help me i fell
and went to the sun
burning eyes madness
so much gladness
the nun
she glowed
blinging light
little insight
a moment in time
that I cannot ignore
what is to know
what is to say
trembling with hope
smoke the rope
vapor barriers
send me home
all alone
featuring the past
catholic mass
what shall I be
what can I do
lasting and churning
my heart is burning
-
tristanbgilb
- Posts: 1389
- Joined: Tue Sep 01, 2020 9:20 pm
- Contact:
Re: www.MethowValley.org-2026
here in the winter
its not the fourth of July
Martin Luther King
my favorite of all the preachers
teachers
despite human suffering
done is the wanting
having some
is not enough
keep it coming
getting tough
factories churning
fire is burning
what is the new to be
people loving each other
fantasies forgiven
life of sensation
another dimension
this I see
planet free
final stop
water the hope
ice skating
less hating
peace full of life
mother and wife
desperation is the English way
the dream is here
the time is over
stillness
and the chillness
needing more
wanting less
for heaven's sake
pray for goodness
before it is too late
on the hill
sitting still
for just a while
the men below
have less snow
taking to heart
let's have a great start
peace and love
kindness in the tunes
dancing in the streets
its not the fourth of July
Martin Luther King
my favorite of all the preachers
teachers
despite human suffering
done is the wanting
having some
is not enough
keep it coming
getting tough
factories churning
fire is burning
what is the new to be
people loving each other
fantasies forgiven
life of sensation
another dimension
this I see
planet free
final stop
water the hope
ice skating
less hating
peace full of life
mother and wife
desperation is the English way
the dream is here
the time is over
stillness
and the chillness
needing more
wanting less
for heaven's sake
pray for goodness
before it is too late
on the hill
sitting still
for just a while
the men below
have less snow
taking to heart
let's have a great start
peace and love
kindness in the tunes
dancing in the streets
-
tristanbgilb
- Posts: 1389
- Joined: Tue Sep 01, 2020 9:20 pm
- Contact:
Re: www.MethowValley.org-2026
as I see
things all around
quiet is the sound
of the whispering rapids
brook trout surfacing for bugs
the peace
the kindness
the friendships
as we wish
centered
bewared
all is good
all is fine
living this life
is so Divine
temperatures rising
people taking sides
let's all kill each other
it's about time
so much hate
so much love
all around town
people happy
others frown
protest your hate
dismal you smile
fearing
tearing
without hope
only the destruction
destruction without revolution
all must be
fear not saith the fantasy
here is a new beginning
a place to be
exodus
same as such
intertwined
before and after
what is said
friends are dead
Dead Head
tie die red
plentiful hope
others drowning without hope
bashing the ones
the ones that lead
catastrophe
bleeding and boomed
all is soon
the beginning
aware of the end
god loves the world
not much else to say
the boom
the blam
bam bam
loved pebbles
sitting strong
all not wrong
people in the steets
yet no dance
ants in their pants
just hate
more the bait
keep em
eat em
ww3
so tenderly
wanting more
tune out the rest
es be blessed
center stage
so deranged
signs flopping
traffic stopping
frowns and downs
protest in hate
hate trump
hate me
cursed you are
and your family
god knows
god sees
ending to hell
watch them bleed
supersonic
so ironic
the preface must end
to open the story
things all around
quiet is the sound
of the whispering rapids
brook trout surfacing for bugs
the peace
the kindness
the friendships
as we wish
centered
bewared
all is good
all is fine
living this life
is so Divine
temperatures rising
people taking sides
let's all kill each other
it's about time
so much hate
so much love
all around town
people happy
others frown
protest your hate
dismal you smile
fearing
tearing
without hope
only the destruction
destruction without revolution
all must be
fear not saith the fantasy
here is a new beginning
a place to be
exodus
same as such
intertwined
before and after
what is said
friends are dead
Dead Head
tie die red
plentiful hope
others drowning without hope
bashing the ones
the ones that lead
catastrophe
bleeding and boomed
all is soon
the beginning
aware of the end
god loves the world
not much else to say
the boom
the blam
bam bam
loved pebbles
sitting strong
all not wrong
people in the steets
yet no dance
ants in their pants
just hate
more the bait
keep em
eat em
ww3
so tenderly
wanting more
tune out the rest
es be blessed
center stage
so deranged
signs flopping
traffic stopping
frowns and downs
protest in hate
hate trump
hate me
cursed you are
and your family
god knows
god sees
ending to hell
watch them bleed
supersonic
so ironic
the preface must end
to open the story
-
tristanbgilb
- Posts: 1389
- Joined: Tue Sep 01, 2020 9:20 pm
- Contact:
Re: www.MethowValley.org-2026
where is the love
sides fighting with each other
taking sides
as if not a brother
here we are
sitting stable and true
on my feet
will help me be with them
my friend
rent my love
for on it goes again
not the end
fresh beginning
people loving one anther
space and time
what is the rhyme
jack and jill
sled down the hill
to have fun and laughter
they couldn't steer
the tree so near
angels bringing people together
loving for peace
dancing in the street
featuring
jesus christ superstar
wanting friends
to be the with them
don't miss understand me
stay away from me
I am peasant
simple and true
heavens breaking open
tears and fears
god forsaken
take my heart
know its true
what can I do
i want to be
the one loved
the one real blue
standing tall and true
baby baby
from me to you
love ah what is love
thee stay awhile
the final mile
sides fighting with each other
taking sides
as if not a brother
here we are
sitting stable and true
on my feet
will help me be with them
my friend
rent my love
for on it goes again
not the end
fresh beginning
people loving one anther
space and time
what is the rhyme
jack and jill
sled down the hill
to have fun and laughter
they couldn't steer
the tree so near
angels bringing people together
loving for peace
dancing in the street
featuring
jesus christ superstar
wanting friends
to be the with them
don't miss understand me
stay away from me
I am peasant
simple and true
heavens breaking open
tears and fears
god forsaken
take my heart
know its true
what can I do
i want to be
the one loved
the one real blue
standing tall and true
baby baby
from me to you
love ah what is love
thee stay awhile
the final mile
-
tristanbgilb
- Posts: 1389
- Joined: Tue Sep 01, 2020 9:20 pm
- Contact:
Re: www.MethowValley.org-2026
fill my heart
peace and laughter
what is here
puppet of the master
angels see
an angel will due
come to help
even a person like you
sit back and feel
the glory of free will
with freedom comes temptation
exception to all the rules
taken flight
no time to fight
knocking on heavens door
first and last
golden finch
brandished with iron
fire and cherry red
bosom of hope
stop before there is no hope
feel like hope and rope
ivory soap
enlist
desist
designed by greatness
lessons to learn
talking about love
Saintes of eyes
palomino flees
tender way
live and love
the future to stay
upon the shoulder
upon the face
octopus has me
my mask from the oceans face
the barracuda in the bucket
put in swimming pool
let it go for it is god's creature
its instinct
devours the vicinity
proximity the rainbow
shamrock
4 leaf clover
teach what is not
the way
to stay
he and them
sitting where it can
sit still
never feel
perkiest
desist
coffee feast
make it right
hold on tight
wars and wars
people killing
help them all
madness from gladness
stop and think
feel is right
make the might
she leaves me breathless
peace and laughter
what is here
puppet of the master
angels see
an angel will due
come to help
even a person like you
sit back and feel
the glory of free will
with freedom comes temptation
exception to all the rules
taken flight
no time to fight
knocking on heavens door
first and last
golden finch
brandished with iron
fire and cherry red
bosom of hope
stop before there is no hope
feel like hope and rope
ivory soap
enlist
desist
designed by greatness
lessons to learn
talking about love
Saintes of eyes
palomino flees
tender way
live and love
the future to stay
upon the shoulder
upon the face
octopus has me
my mask from the oceans face
the barracuda in the bucket
put in swimming pool
let it go for it is god's creature
its instinct
devours the vicinity
proximity the rainbow
shamrock
4 leaf clover
teach what is not
the way
to stay
he and them
sitting where it can
sit still
never feel
perkiest
desist
coffee feast
make it right
hold on tight
wars and wars
people killing
help them all
madness from gladness
stop and think
feel is right
make the might
she leaves me breathless
-
tristanbgilb
- Posts: 1389
- Joined: Tue Sep 01, 2020 9:20 pm
- Contact:
www.MethowValley.org-2026
from a dismal perspective
into praise and hope
he who made me
must present himself
for true understanding and knowing
the fiction
the mission
fantasies forgiven
life of free
free to be
government intervention
and hate of all
my fall
help me
I want to start again
from all the hate
all the despair
take a place
in the human race
intervention
institution
revolution
in the name
of the grave
heavens laughter of hope
angels in the mist
so much bliss
taken within
holding without
taking the pain
without all the blame game
take me in
hold me off
pleasant intuitions
dilutions
faced in anger
turning a cheek
make my feat
defeat the past
beam into the future
running fear
spared a tear
solation is lost
repenting
resetting
being free
taken in
hoping on
sometimes wrong
people of moments passing
restitution of the masses
redeeming the past
hold in
take out
say what
I am coconut
flesh eating
mind dropping
pleasant peace
golden fleece
into praise and hope
he who made me
must present himself
for true understanding and knowing
the fiction
the mission
fantasies forgiven
life of free
free to be
government intervention
and hate of all
my fall
help me
I want to start again
from all the hate
all the despair
take a place
in the human race
intervention
institution
revolution
in the name
of the grave
heavens laughter of hope
angels in the mist
so much bliss
taken within
holding without
taking the pain
without all the blame game
take me in
hold me off
pleasant intuitions
dilutions
faced in anger
turning a cheek
make my feat
defeat the past
beam into the future
running fear
spared a tear
solation is lost
repenting
resetting
being free
taken in
hoping on
sometimes wrong
people of moments passing
restitution of the masses
redeeming the past
hold in
take out
say what
I am coconut
flesh eating
mind dropping
pleasant peace
golden fleece
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