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Felix and Gypsy's
What a wild winter raining 24+ inches in just
few days. We approached the 118 bridge at Vineyard ave. A few
baricades blocked our path across the Santa Clara River to Saticoy.
Stopping the car we checked it out. Gone, the whole span of
concrete bridge washed away, our access to the 126 west cut
off. Shit hopefully the 101 bridge is still passable as we shoot
west on Vineyard. We merge onto 101 observing the water licking
the bottom of the 101 Santa Clara River Span.
The waves were a storm torn muddy mess. The campgrounds
were flooded but we hung out anyway hoping for a break in the
weather. We spend two days linking up camp tables to walk elevated
above the water. Van's and cars all linked for a wet night of
partying. We'd try to awake beore the arrival of Felix the Danish
ranger who idiotically insisted we pay camp fees under these
ridiculous conditions. His irritating banging on the Van screaming
gypsys! gypsys! pay!, pay! always yielded the same results,
Fuck You! we'd reply in unison. Gypsy would take a collection
and thrust out a hand with change in it. While Felix counted
the coins he'd fire up the Van and make our get away. Making
our way south we headed down Harbor Blvd. The Santa Clara River
jumped it's banks flooding Olivas Golf Course filling up a good
portion of the Ventura Harbor and boats in their slips with
Swinging into empty chatsworth park in the rain
we must have looked suspicious. Bored by no surf we took the
fins out of our shortboards dragging them up the rain soaked
hill of grass. Our attempt at shooting the hill was immediately
curtailed by the arrival of LA's finest. "OK what goes
on HERE"! they squealed. "Just a little hill surfin"
didn't sound kosher so the cops decide to search us and the
Van. Hmm where did that bag o weed go? Not mine anyway, oh well!
The Vans a mess of blankets, wetsuits, sleeping bags and camp
gear. The rain turns to misty as the Van is searched the last
towel is grabbed by the man in blue lifted skyward... nothing.
We all look at each other as we're instructed
to leave and not come back. Driving out of the lot the towel
is shaken and holy Mc Puff there it is. When the cop grabbed
the towel he got the baggie with it! We all howl. As we make
a rapid left hand turn the Van's side doors fly open spilling
1/2 we own out onto the boulevard. We paused only long enough
to gather it up glancing up the street hoping the cops wern't
on our tail.