A behind-the-scenes STORY from investigations in Plumas County:
A behind-the-scenes STORY from investigations in Plumas County:
He reminded me of Robin Williams playing Popeye. He was missing a tooth, had gnarly scars on his neck, and a wild look in his eyes. I was walking along the Feather River in Plumas County, and there he was: a 60-year-old salty man named Dane, with good posture, a Natural Ice tall can in hand. A simple “how’s it goin’” turned into chit-chatting about dogs, then into enthralling stories about how he got his scars. He said he got knifed in the neck when 3 guys tried to rob him. He was able to escape by pushing the robbers off a bridge into the river, by stiff-arming them. Another scar was a wound from a bar altercation, where another man almost killed him with an ax.
Often people who love telling their story ramble on and on, trying to cram in as much as possible. It can be exhausting for the listener. Not with Dane. He'd stop. Let the conversation breathe. I kept asking for more details, because they were incredible, fascinating tales. I felt like I approached him with an open heart and could feel his joyous spirit—but I also had this feeling that he might be mentally unstable. Dane had lived in Plumas County since he was a boy, and told me that his parents' graves were at a nearby cemetery, and that he keeps them very clean. "When's the last time you visited them?" I asked, expecting it to be weeks or months. "Yesterday," Dane said.
He told me about a local fishing spot where the bass were active. He asked me how it was I could be hanging out by the river in the middle of a work day. I shared with him how I make videos and do field research and that I was working.
At one point a woman drove by in a pick-up truck and yelled something at us, "Dane your daughter's yard needs raking!" "Who was that?" I asked. "My wife," he replied with a straight face. He said it was his daughter's birthday and he had slipped a birthday card in her car, but, because of family drama, didn't want to further engage.
We kept talking, and Dane had electricity in his eyes. A deep crystalline raw energy. Also he could probably do 100 push-ups. Dane showed me his secret of how to throw an effective punch. He seemed like a smart, hard-working guy, though he told me he was recently released from jail, and he was living on the street. I was thoroughly enjoying spending time with Dane, and cared about his well-being. So I offered to get him a motel room. He said, "That would cost $200, and I don't want you to have to pay that. Matter of fact, I won't let you pay that!" "Okay," I replied, "can I buy you a meal?" He gave me a big, strong hug. "We might just be friends," he grinned. Dane declined the meal offer, but we planned to meet up again, and I agreed to pay him $20/hr to tell me his stories. While I was walking away he said, "My name's Dane Smith." Promise me you won't look me up on the Internet. The things they say about me aren't true. "Okay," I promised. And I never looked him up.
Early the next day I saw Dane again, near the same river spot. Seeing each other, we both had big grins. We chatted for a couple minutes. Then Dane asked how much money I had on me. "Like $150," I shared openly. "Could you spare $8 so I can get another Zyn [nicotine pouches]?" "Absolutely," I said, and gave him the money. Then, with our faces about two feet apart, he looked deep into my eyes and blurted out spontaneously, "what's two plus two?" It was a moment of clear, empty, zen mind for me. "22" I heard myself say, without hesitation or breaking eye contact. "Exactly!" Dane was filled with glee, "Wow! That is so rare!" It felt like we just experienced a telepathic moment. He beamed. I smiled.
I asked Dane if he had a phone, and he said no, but that he was planning to go pick up a free
government cell phone. He said when he got his new phone, if I gave him my number, I’d be the first person he called. That piqued my interest, but the conversation kept moving and I didn’t end up giving him my number.
The following day, I ran into Dane again, this time later in the day. I was elated to see him, but could feel a strange energy emanating from him. "Who's your producer?" was the first thing he said, in a mildly demanding tone. "Myself," I replied, after a short pause. I figured he must be concerned about my video-making and the reasons for it. After a moment, he blurted, "Stay away from trash. Stay away from trash, naw-whut-I-mean? You're a good man, stay away from trash!" I stood still, absorbing his words, and he left me standing there, walking 50 yards down the river. This felt like what could be his bipolar side. Was he trying to tell me to stay away from him?
I wanted to have more interactions with Dane, but the opportunities weren't presenting themselves. I regretted not giving him my phone number. Then I saw him one morning walking across an intersection by the main road. I caught up to him, and told him "Good morning!" He replied in a mildly amicable tone, but it felt like he didn't recognize me, or didn't want to recognize me. I watched him walk away, and felt sad that this lively, charming person was pushing himself away. It felt like we had had the start of a potent and mutually beneficial friendship. Or perhaps I had magically engaged into the loving side of a troubled soul, for a short window of time. I mourned the loss of a friend that I almost had.
Some names and details in this story were changed for privacy reasons
VIDEOS created in Plumas County, along with accompanying notes:
Portola, CA
It's a tidy little park, on the corner of old town Portola.
Portola, CA
I happened to meet a couple of high school seniors in Portola near the big map. I asked one if he ever goes to the Feather River Food Co-op, just down the street. He said rarely. He said his family shops for food at the Dollar General, using mostly their food stamps. Most of his friend's families are all on food stamps. This teen said he was ready for a bigger city.
The other senior was sitting in his car at the gas station, across from the big map, hunched over in his car scratching a lotto ticket. I asked him what his plans were after graduation. "Going in the Army," he replied.
Portola, CA
On the way to the real old man porch (see below), we found the wooden old man on the porch. The homeowner, Regina, said that the wooden man is a replica of her husband, and was made on the Oregon coast. After Regina left (giving up permission to shoot), her daughter happened to drive by and see us on the lawn, and stopped, full of concern. Explaining what we were doing, it was beautiful to witness her energy shift from concern/fear to trust. She loved the gems sticker.
Portola, CA
After asking the old man on the porch if he was open to collaborating on "a silly and comedic video," he replied, "oh yeah, it's going to be entertaining? Then great!"
While shooting, I didn't check in with Sue, the owner of The Grateful Dawg Thrift Boutique, next door. I didn't think she'd mind at all, since I connected quite deeply with her weeks before, that included hugs, and giving of gifts (I gave her a gems sticker and she gave me a short story book by a local author).
For a certain shot, I stepped over a handrail in front of Sue's business, to carefully situate my body in between the landscaping. She came out yelling, "Get out!! You're stepping on my flowers! Get out!" I tried to calm her down ("it's me, Sue"), but nothing worked and it was best to leave her walkway area.
We kept shooting at the old man's porch. I made the mistake of returning 10 minutes later to Sue's business. I was first going to apologize again, thinking what had happened was just a momentary flare-up. I saw from looking in the door she was busy with customers, so I walked partially down the walkway and we filmed a "walking shot" you see in the video. Just then, Sue came outside, and was furious with me. I attempted to apologize and explain, but it was, again, no use. We finished up the shoot and went to lunch.
Over 3 hours later, I decided to revisit the discomfort, and attempt to apologize to Sue, again. She was already outside, tending to her landscaping, and when she saw me she began to vent. "You're the problem!" she shouted. She vented about the challenges of being a business owner, people messing up her beautiful landscaping, shoplifters, people parking incorrectly in the alley behind her shop. I just stood calmly on the sidewalk. "I'm here," I told her peacefully, "because I care about you. I apologize." "Stop it," she said gently, a noticeable softening in her voice. "I care about your plants," I continued. "Oh, stop it" she replied, softening even more. It felt like we were on our way to making peace.
Suddenly, a 30-something-year-old dad with his young daughter on his shoulders walking by on the sidewalk, went up the walkway to Sue and offered her a hug. She accepted, and kind of melted. "You're giving me faith in young people again," she told the Dad before going inside her shop.
"I could tell she needed a hug," the Dad told me moments later. He also said, "I don't like people. The world's fucked." But he had had a recent magic moment where a woman working at the local 7-11 gave him a free coffee when he forgot his wallet. He was so moved that he later tipped her $20.
Another man approached us on the sidewalk, a guy who owns a nearby building, who I'd randomly met an hour earlier. He came out because he heard the calamity with Sue from his window. "Don't take it personally," he told me. But then we all shared a magic moment, where the building owner was sharing how he needs work done on his unit, and the dad does that kind of work and was looking for work. It felt like a remarkable ending to what started as a very uncomfortable situation.
Quincy, CA
The first day in Quincy I was named Ringleader of a little circus "The Quircus" on a grassy lawn downtown. This was after I procured a large orange traffic cone from the street and began an old-timey announcement to the crowds that the next mini-yoga session was about to begin. "Ladies and Gentlemen and all-around in-betweeners!" I yelled through the cone, "the next yoga session will be starting now! Yoga! Yoooooga!"
"Frostys" feel very American, and also have a strong presence in Plumas County, in Graeagle, Chilcoot, Portola, and also here in Quincy.
Quincy, CA
What is a sit spot? It could be described as the practice of sitting still and quietly outdoors to observe and better connect with the natural world.
I was sitting in the chair behind the Plumas Pines shopping center, noticing the epic pollinator frenzy on the tree's flowers. Taking a little break to cool my feet in the small ditch stream. Active birds. There was magic in the air. Then after sitting for awhile, i looked up to my left, and there was Little cow one chime. But there wasn't much wind, and the chime didn't have a weight on the striker.
The next day, I returned to the sit spot, and to my delight there was a gentle breeze. After sitting in the chair for awhile, there was a glorious ding as Little Cow One Chime made its magical sound. It only has one chime, but that's all it needs.
Clio, CA
Met a man who'd been a logger, train conductor, and volunteer fire chief in Plumas County. He believes Cal Fire causes more harm than good by doing unnecessary backburns and was hoping I'd make a documentary about Cal Fire (he did say the Cal Fire air division does a good job).
He was eager to tell me stories. Though he was talking my ear off, I accepted his idea to take me on a little field trip around Sierra Valley, in an early 90s 4wd Subaru sedan. He showed me examples of logging done right (forests are thinned, not clear cut), and showed me the difference between the Jeffery Pine, Ponderosa Pine, Sugar Pine, Lodgepole Pine, White Pine, Juniper, and Cedar. He also took me to see the large train trestle in Clio, but when I saw the standing canoe, I was more interested in that.
Plumas County, CA
I met Volition and his Dad while shopping at a Feather River Food Co-op in Plumas County.
Volition is a young teen with a used golf ball business, living off-grid with his dad in Plumas County. Their compound is inaccessible by car for most of the winter, and they rely on a snowmobile to leave the mountain for supplies. A couple years ago a tree fell on their homemade A-frame house and broke the ridge beam. A handful of community members close to them quickly raised $4000 so they’d have the funds to rebuild the top of the house.
The “shaman’s den” is a wood-fired bathtub, which heats up a small connected greenhouse. I spent a night at the compound. Dinner was delicious slow-cooked tri-tip, potatoes, mushrooms and a stick of butter in a wok on an outdoor wood stove. I brought fresh crunchy romaine for the side. The "Show-and-Tell" vibe was high, and both Volition and his Dad were eager to show me everything. We took turns taking hot baths in the shaman's den.
Calpine, CA
[in Sierra County] A magical part of living in rural America... an honor system egg cooler.
Sierra City, CA
[in Sierra County] Its a classic landmark on the way to Plumas County, via Hwy 49.