a story……….Well, maybe just one,….I call it “fire on the mountain”.

This happened way back in 1979, we road-tripped out to Red Rocks on 8-12-79 for the Dead’s 3rd run at that venue. The show that night was magical and several spectacular musical and mystical (enough M-words yet?) happenings occurred, but I must stick with the post show story. This is just between us, right?

My girlfriend (now wife) and I had met up (at Red Rocks) with Beano and his girlfriend Erin, who informed us that Erin’s folks had an A-frame cabin up the mountain behind Evergreen. Did we want a place to sleep after the show? Yes, that sounded fantastic and we started following them back to this cabin from the parking lot. The fog became very thick and soon we could barely see in front of the car. It seemed like hours as we traversed the short distance, going 10 to 15 mi per hour winding up this mountain until there we were a small A-frame cabin and the 8 of us (and our dogs) grabbed our sleeping bags and ran in out of the fog, giggling and yapping reviewing the Dead’s performance that night and the endless journey through that ‘thick air’, and our boundless luck at this great spot to rest our heads.

The next morning we awoke early to the mountain chill and started a fire in the free-standing fireplace in the middle of the living room. My golden retriever Zoot and his retriever brother Garth looked at me in anticipation and I let them out to do their morning 'duty'. My buddy “Gasser” told me that Erin said we could take showers but we need to light the pilot light for the hot water heater. We looked around and outside we located two propane bottles on the side of the cabin and we turned them on full blast. The view was breathtaking for this boy that grew up on the plains. We stood overlooking Evergreen, nestled on the side of a mountain way up high..the air, the sky, the clouds...ahhh. I walked back into the living room and I stood there pontificating in my boxers (a regal sight I assure you) to all who were just waking up (my captive audience!) about what aural wonders the Dead might have in store for the next two shows.

All of a sudden flame emptied out of the wall and across the floor toward us like a waterfall of fire. It was about 12 feet by 8 feet and advanced cascading along the floor. The room was filled with the smell of burning hair as Zoot and Garth (who now looked like seals, their hair ‘trimmed’ and their whiskers burnt off) ran across the room and right out the door. Everyone was screaming and it wasn’t the wild dance that I was performing that was exciting the crowd. All the hair on my ankles fried as the waves of flame were pulsating and hovering a couple inches off the floor and swept further into the room. Everyone started using their sleeping bags, clothes, blankets, pillows, whatever was handy to beat at the flames and I was relieved as the fire disappeared, almost as quickly as it had arrived. We looked at each other like the 3 stooges would do, and suddenly the waterfall of flame shot out across the floor again. And pandemonium returned as we all did a repeat of our flailing with whatever was handy to battle the flame back and then someone yelled “the fireplace, put out that fire in the fireplace!!”

Someone quickly grabbed a canteen and began dumping the water to douse the fire in the fireplace as the flames rolled out once again from the bottom of the wall, right where the wall meets the floor. We were able to put out those flames again and it did not ignite now that we had extinguished the fireplace. Then I heard screaming again and Erin ran toward us yelling that "there is smoke upstairs!!" We all grabbed pots, canteens, coolers, anything that could hold water and ran upstairs to be confronted with an open closet door where smoke was billowing out and more flames were lapping up through the back of the closet wall of the A-frame.

It was an insane Chinese fire drill, a frantic hallucinatory bucket brigade with everyone’s faces looking like they were drawn by Ralph Steadman as we dashed to fill small receptacles and then ran upstairs or passed them up the stairs to dump (and mildly dampen) the ever-growing fire and smoke beast that threatened to envelope the cabin.

Suddenly Gasser and I had the same idea (10 watt bulb ON!) and we both dashed outside to the propane bottles. He ran in front of me and as I looked ahead to see a flame burning down the metal tube attached towards the propane bottle(s). In my minds eye, I saw Gasser and I flying, arms outstretched, airborne over Evergreen. But then I saw him turning the gas off. Gasser then took off down the hill to another cabin to call the fire department (this happened before cell phones, kids). The fireman/women quickly showed up, hooked the hoses up to the truck (the water had to be hauled on the rig, with no hydrants in the mountains), then they peeled the roof/walls back off the A-frame with their axes (what would Erin tell her folks?) and they shot water into the walls with the fire hoses.

Those propane bottles were originally hooked to a kitchen stove (which was now an electric) and when we turned them on, the hollow wall was filled with the propane until it leaked out and was then ignited by the fireplace. Then we beat the fire (or a spark?) back into the wall. Thus the ‘wall of fire’.

After all that we caravaned down to a tavern in Evergreen (the Black Bear Tavern?) and I had a drink of Wild Turkey 101 at 9:30 a.m. (a first for me) to try to reduce my adreneline.

The Grateful Dead played the next two nights at McNichol’s Arena ( Red Rocks was rained out, and if I recall, a deadhead was killed when he fell, after climbing 'high' into the rocks that prior evening). The Dead didn’t play ‘Fire on the Mountain’ like I was sure they would. But they did play us a rolicking version of Althea “You know this space is getting hot….yes, the space is getting hot”.

OK, who is next?

I was there also - the second two nights were rained out. I thought the 2nd night was best though, despite not having that incredible view. What a great place to see our band and a great story O. Glad you made it out alive, less ankle hair of course. Thanks! (I'll be back with one, don't worry).

"If the forms of this world die, which is more real, the me that dies or the me that's infinite? Can I trust my habitual mind, or do I need to learn to look beneath those things?"

It was 1969... I was a Junior at LSU in New Orleans, living in Miami. It was just after Christmas break and me and two of my friends were driving back to NO from Miami. Me and one of my buddies decided it would cool out the drive to drop a little bit of acid. We just took a quarter each so's we could still take our turns at the wheel. Trouble was the shit was stronger than we expected (Orange Sunshine) and in awhile we were too loaded to drive. It was the middle of the night and the oncoming car lights were streaming into my head and the lines on the road were jumping up and seemed to be forming walls. The straighter dude took over and me and my other stoned buddy hopped into the back seat. It was December and even northern Florida and southern Mississippi get pretty cold that time of year. My car was a 1962 Mercury with a three speed stick transmission on the column with a groovy eight ball for a handle but no heater. Soon we began to freeze our asses off even with the windows closed. Since me and my psychedellic companion's brains were expanded, we decided on a brilliant idea to warm things up by grabbing a large aluminum cooking pot that we were bringing to our pad, filling it up with newspapers and magazines and lighting a cozy little fire to warm us up. It seemed like a good idea at the time, and it was... for a few minutes, until the fire burned as high as the roof of the car and smoke began to fill up the space. We grooved for awhile until it became hard to breathe and my other friend who was straight, except for some low grade Mexican grass and beer began to cough and not be able to see the road. In another flash of brilliance we screamed for him to open his driver side window and when he did the wind whooshed in swrilling adound the flame and into the large burning pot causing a beautiful light show. The red and yellow sparks filled the car like so many shooting stars and after the initial awe, the sparks started to land all over our clothes and faces causing stinging pain. Me and my cozmic pal thought this was funny as hell and began to laugh hysterically and the driver too was starting to get stung, but for some strange reason didn't see the humor of the situation. He pulled off the side of the road and we all tumbled into the cold Mississippi night air kicking the magic pot out of the door with us, rolling on the ground laughing our asses off as the flaming paper escaped into the night air. Luckily the car didn't get any real damage and we eventually made our way to NO without further incident. I learned a big lesson that day. Don't trip and drive unless the driver is tripping too or else he won't get any of the jokes.

What a show?!?!
I don't think they'd let that slide these days. During Looks Like Rain, must have been some sort of sign. Very nice, keep 'em comin

PEACE
I get a perfect mental image when you mention Jerry & his chesire SMILE :-)

Funny shit grdaed73 those Qualudes and kind cookies will get you every time..LOL!