I'm off to Wolf Creek — the tiny Oregon town two mountain passes north of Grants Pass. The sun is shining, the sky is blue, and the first nine notes of the banjo tune from Deliverance is ringing in my ears.
"You're going to Wolf Creek? Why?" a friend asks, just before "do-do-doodling" the twanging melody.
I'm surprised, and a little alarmed, by his reaction. I've never been to Wolf Creek. But the name summons a sense of timeless romance. Famed author Jack London completed his novel "The Valley of the Moon" while staying in Wolf Creek.
But apparently the area elicits some knuckle-dragger comments, too. Hmm. Wonder if my friend knows something.
Rolling into town, I scan the area. Everything seems quiet at the general store and the local inn.
No thick-necked Gomers lounge about, leering ominously at fresh meat on four wheels. Only a couple of middle-aged ladies sitting on a sunny storefront porch, and one carload of tourists pulling a U-turn in the post office parking lot.
I meet up with my target — a local pasta maker — at the community center. After talking noodles, we slip into casual conversation. Turns out Pasta Dave used to carry the mail around this burg. Surely that means he's still carrying some local history.
"Tell me everything," I beg.
Obviously not carrying the gossip gene, he begins slowly. Well-known luminaries have occasionally stopped in Wolf Creek, Dave says.
"David Crosby showed up one time," he says. "And there was Mimi Farina. And, of course, you know about Mylan Melvin."
I'm forced to confess I don't know who Mimi or Mylan are. But a trip to Google will reveal Farina is Joan Baez' younger sister. And Melvin is a San Francisco actor/director. The two were wed in 1968 in Big Sur, Calif. Mimi's first husband, novelist Richard Farina, was killed in 1965, the Time magazine site said.
Most recently Sir Anthony Hopkins stopped in for a nosh at the Wolf Creek Tavern, Dave adds.
I look out the glass door toward the old stagecoach stop. Built in 1883, the inn bills itself as the oldest Oregon hotel in continuous use. It has hosted such celebrities as London and Clark Gable. Local folklore has long touted the inn as haunted. The inn's owners concur, news articles say.
But the old inn wasn't open for dining when Hopkins stopped by.
"So Sir Anthony headed down to the truck stop and got a little snack," says Dave. "He was letting people take pictures with their cell phones."
Memories of deliveries to a local commune of "radical faeries from San Francisco," elicits a grin from Dave.
"The group calls itself Nomanus, which stands for No-Man-Us," he says. Its members have a penchant for cross-dressing and Beltane celebrations, he adds.
"You know what Beltane is, right?" he asks.
My ignorance again on display, I tell Dave the name rings a bell. But no memory cells answer.
Later at witchvox.com, I learn Beltane is the time when the sun is fully released from its bondage of winter and able to rule over summer and life once again.
"When the faeries return from their winter respite, carefree and full of faery mischief and faery delight," the site says.
Wolf Creekers appreciate a fiercely independent (if flamboyant) nature, allowing folks to travel to the beat of their own tambourine. I ask Dave if the "faeries" ever face harassment from good-ole boys.
Wolf Creek residents advocate a live and let live philosophy for the most part, he replies.
"There's room out here. And nobody seems to bother anybody else," Dave says.
After our chat, I drift off toward a series of colorful curbside flags that ruffle in the warm breeze. Inside the wolf-themed shop, there are cases full of handcrafted jewelry designed to evoke one's spirit. Pentagrams, crystal pendants, stone carvings and Celtic crosses abound.
A sterling silver bracelet adorned with five guardian angels catches my interest. The heavy cuff is a work of art. Its symbolism is significant to me. But the price is hefty for a reporter's purse. I put it back. Then pick it up again.
I really love the feel of the piece. But I do not love getting drawn into religious discussions. I'm worried wearing angels on my sleeve will cause too much comment for my comfort level.
"That topic can go from bad to worse faster than political chat," I say.
The tattooed storekeeper nods.
"No one ever asks me about Wicca, unless they already know what it is. Or, at least, they think they do," she says, rolling her eyes.
Driving home, there are no more echoes of banjo music. Instead, I hear Dave saying he plans to return to Wolf Creek as soon as his girlfriend agrees.
"I love this place," he says. "I can't wait to move back here."
I'm considering a return visit myself. Expense checks have arrived. And there's a bracelet calling my name.
Reach reporter Sanne Specht at 776-4497 or e-mail sspecht@mailtribune.com.