For the second time in two days we get taken in a car somewhere by complete strangers. Yesterday an Asian business man took us for an ice-cream, today the custodian of a yard sale took us on a tour of all the tobacco shops in Yreka after we had enquired of their whereabouts. She even took us by her house and give us an old frying pan.
Just outside Weed, down a dusty road lined with trucks resting, we find refuge for a night at a place for which there is no real equivalent in Europe. Here is a big plot of land right beside the Southern Pacific Railroad, owned by a small collective who celebrate the culture of train-hopping those long, long freight trains that pass slowly around America. In an old junk yard they have acquired several cabooses, converting them into homes and two box-car wagons that have a library specializing in punks and hobos, gallery space and a stage for bands and performers. Black Butte Centre for Railroad Culture also works in conservation and has a big workshop for constructing human-powered vehicles.
After seeing a fair selection of American TV shows and films over the course of a life, it is quite something to actually be on that continent at last. Continue reading »

