Road to Find Out
In 1975, I left my hometown of Huntingdon Valley, Pennsylvania to head west to the Rockies. With my first love and partner David Shegda and our friend Jamey we climbed into Davids’s parents’ 1969 Pontiac Bonneville station wagon that they gave us for the journey, also known as “ the Yak”. Anxious and ready for the adventures ahead we strapped the Hang-glider kites down with bungee chords to the top of the Yak and headed out searching for places to strap on a 30 lb kite, run our asses off cliffs, and buttes – spread our wings and Fly!
For me, filming the guys and hiking all the buttes was half the fun! With my Cannon Super 8 movie camera and Fujika 701, 35mm I documented our epic journey across the USA. First, we headed south toward I-40, and at the Ozark mountains in Arkansas, we flew a snake-infested bluff. David went down into the trees. I had to search for him by driving the fully packed Yak into the Ozark mountain forest, on a logging road, and getting out to look for him for three hours, climbing through the bush and rock to find him and he was Ok. Then pushed through to the Southern California Coast. Seeing the Pacific Ocean for the first time was beyond exciting. The smell of salt mixed with the fragrance of Eucalyptus and the warm pig-skin breeze while seeing the West Coast ocean horizon was nothing short of captivating. Old Highway Rt 1 was magical cruising to Big Sur. Stopping to fly at Pelican Beach, we made camp on the bluffs while I cooked up some dinner and watched the sunset. It was a magical time! We continued driving the Yak North up the coastal dunes of Oregon, just West of Corvallis.
After traveling thousands of miles across deserts, plains, and mountains the Yak needed several major repairs and would finally die. It was there I wrote the song Oregon. While seeing the guys fly off Yaquina Head lighthouse cliff launch, just North of Newport, and watching the waves crashing on the rocks below, I had to play my guitar and start writing. I knew then that, had I not taken that step off to the unknown leaving the security of my suburban home life in Huntingdon Valley, I most likely would have never witnessed the raw ruggedness of life and death. The moments of the natural world, and our tiny insignificance in the midst of the power of Nature.
Finally, we settled in Jackson Hole, Wyoming where we would fly off portions of the Teton Range and also the buttes surrounding the town of Jackson.
Inspired by the Teton mountains, we decided to stop our wandering and stay in this wonderous, dreamlike cowboy town. The music I began writing after landing in Jackson started with a song, Please Take Care, which I wrote after hearing The Hesitation. Blues, a Hot Tuna song. I bought a B-pass for skiing during the 1975-76 Season and got a job at the Wort Hotel in the evenings. Watching and listening to bands like Sawmill Creek began the birthing of my dream for a career in music. It wasn’t long before I was playing my original songs at the Mangy Moose Salon, Sojourner in the ski village at the bottom of Rendevous Mountain. and the Pink Garter. It was a hoot playing pool at the Cowboy Bar and dancing to the bands that came into town. Back then the town of Jackson was less populated than it has gotten to be. After meeting Paul Hartman another musician in Jackson, we started playing in town for the duration of that winter. Hang-gliding took a rest when the snow came.
Now all these years later I am so happy to have documented the filming of this timely adventure. Sadly though, in August 1976, we lost our dear David Shegda flying off the Teton range, near Glory Bowl. His kite took a dive at 200 ft. while he was making his descent. The crash devastated all who knew him. It left me with an overwhelming drive to focus on my songwriting. David’s motto had always been, “do what you love”, and seemingly they were the last words he left in a birthday card to me weeks before he left the planet.
