My memory is pretty good, but my forgetory is better.
Son Ian, at age seven
Oh, the people I meet.
One thing can certainly be said about hammocks; they can be real conversation starters. I was at a three-day concert one time, late evening, the Dead playing in the background. Sadly, they were no longer with Jerry, at the Further Festival in Calaveras County, of frog fame. I found a couple of trees and was chilling, when I heard a young lady’s voice behind me say “Is that a matrimonial hammock?”
I told her I was not certain about the matrimonial part, but it was certainly a Mayan hammock. “Can I jump in?” Not wanting to be rude, I told her that was fine. My wife was in a lawn chair about four feet away, so there was really no question about things getting out of hand, matrimonially or otherwise. She hopped in, and perched on one side like a curious bird. We chatted for a while about hammocks, the Dead, life in the hip lane. My wife’s comment later that evening was “I was wondering who you were talking to.”
Eventually, the hammock sagged a bit, as one of the branches I had employed was not expecting a second guest, and I had to explain to her my butt was dragon and it was time to bid adieu. She thanked me and wandered back to the crowd, dancing off in the darkness. My wife’s eyebrows raised when she saw who had just hopped out, my ephemeral hammock companion.
It is my belief she looks even sexier when her eyebrows are raised.
At the same concert, we saw a young entrepreneur who had developed a “gong chair.” When one sat in it, two large (very large) gongs on either side could be struck, no doubt sending rather intense sound waves through the interior of the sittee.
I took one look at it, and it will probably not be a shock that I immediately thought “gong hammock.” One might need two gong administrators on each side to deliver the proper tones, perhaps? I finally settled for wind chimes, temple, and camel bells, which added a nice accent to the sound of tanks firing when I watched “The Battle of the Bulge.”
After watching the pot and pan protests in South America, I did buy a gong, not nearly as large, and I love the rolling sound it makes when tapped gently at high frequency.
We have been celebrating all of the helpers (doctors, nurses, ambulance drivers, researchers, teachers, janitors, sanitation workers, peace officers, Postal and all other delivery folks, grocery and farm workers – an endless list) each night at seven.
Do NOT play the following video at night when your wife or baby is asleep. It does chime seven.
I do get a lot of comments, and enjoy the interaction. I have had folks drive past, check it out, and do a second pass through the parking lot just to snap a photo of the Prius hammock rig. One young lady came running up to me at a concert, asked if she could snap a picture, and when I agreed, leaned over and caught my huge grin.
Another time, as I was enjoying the scene at Hardly Strictly, San Francisco’s free bluegrass festival, a lady came racing up behind me and pointed to the flask suspended over my head. “If that’s wine, I’m jumping in!” I told her it was, and to feel free to do so, although I was not especially sure one of the branches could handle it. She laughed and drifted off into the crowd. It was for the best.
Shortly after that, folks in the crowd decided that since I had a “throne,” I must be the “King!” Note to readers: Elvis I am not. My “subjects” offered me a beer, and when I got up – “Make way for the King!” greeted my hammock departure. My subjects had a great time riding that joke for all it was worth, but hey, I got a free beer out of the laugh!
‘L’etat c’est moi’ (‘I am the state’)
Louis XIV of France
Another fellow gave me a hard time, as my backpack, clipped into one of the strap connections, was blocking his view. All I can say now is “Geesh!” At the time, I said “No worries!”
Another time, we were headed home after a long day of music, and my friend Ron (extrovert to the core) was talking to another group of concert-goers, describing the Home Hammock Theater. “He’s figured out a way to do EVERYTHING in the hammock!” I wheeled around and saw their looks of astonishment (and a wee bit of eeew!) and corrected him. “Not EVERYTHING, please!”
Often at these events, when I have to go to the restroom, I’ll search the area for a young child or two, and invite them (with parental supervision) to try out the hammock for a while. I did this with one very young lady, and when I returned two or three of her wee friends had popped into the hammock as well, where they were giggling up a storm. I watched patiently for a while, and mom eventually decided it was time to roll. She instructed her young charges to depart the hammock. Most of them did, but one headstrong young madam clung to the cords and screamed “MINE!”
Mother was a bit embarrassed by this, and repeated her instruction in a way that clearly meant business. “MINE!” and heads in the crowd were beginning to turn to see what all the fuss was about. I hid behind a tree. Finally, after much screaming and wailing and peeling hammock cords from a grubby wee fist, her mother got her loose and headed back to the family blanket, but not before she leaned over to me and said “Thank you – I think.”
Another time I was outside a hotel in Tucson, enjoying a late evening breeze while on a business trip. A pickup truck pulled into the parking lot, and a gentleman who had clearly soaked down some drinks looked over at me. “Don’t worry, your wife will get over her mad and let you back in the room eventually!”
One fellow approached me and checked out the car sling. He decided that was “perfect” but would be so much better if one had a fishing pole and could cast toward a body of water. We got to discussing fishing, setting up hammocks on boats in general, and how relaxing that would be. I think he may have wanted to add a hammock to his bass boat – in fine nautical tradition.
Some folks just pretend you are not there. It occasionally surprises me, but probably shouldn’t. Some folks duck under the hammock at concerts, while others will grab your anchor straps or header cords as a handhold, especially on a steep hillside. It can be quite startling when someone ducks under the hammock and then decides to stand up about halfway through.
One of the great local concerts takes place on Jerry Day in early August, at the Jerry Garcia Amphitheater. Dead Heads (gratefully, of course) come for miles to share the love. The amphitheater has some lovely trees near the upper edge, and you know by now where I head. The concert is also live-streamed, so I could listen to the music (live) while watching the show (sound muted) on my cell phone, suspended above the hammock. The best of all worlds!
I would be remiss, in this section, in not mentioning the security guards and law enforcement types who have encountered my hammock rig in their jurisdiction. One security guard looked the situation over and told me I could stay, but if there were any complaints, he was going to have to ask me to “move along.” As I was at the very back corner of a largely lonely parking lot with no neighbors other than a bored ambulance driver waiting in the shade for dispatch, I thanked him kindly and went back to my book.
Others have been less considerate. One policeman informed me that I was to take it down and leave the area IMMEDIATELY. I asked if a hammock was against the law, and he informed me that it was – in Berkeley, California. Given the fabled history of trees, protests, and such, I suspect he was absolutely right. I WAS just outside a concert at the Greek Theater. I have enjoyed many a free concert there, with or without hammock, and even paid for one.
Out behind the Greek Theater there are a series of steps and parking lots on the hillside. One evening, a security guard swept in. There must have been 30 or 40 of us enjoying the (free) show. His first words were “That hammock has GOT TO GO!!!” I’m not entirely sure what his problem was, but I have a longstanding policy that while I may ask “Why?” I comply.
I have heard that hammocks were outlawed in all Florida State Parks, and I can understand why. Thin cords and no padding will girdle and kill a tree, given that the bark is essential to their existence. Some trees have thicker bark than others, but it is one reason why I am overly protective with my wide webbing straps, foam noodle “Homers,” and use of branches as opposed to the trunk whenever possible. I almost never get a chance to explain WHY my careful approach to the trees should render concerns moot, but if a ranger ever asks, I am ready.
I have been kicked out of the trees of hotels were I was a registered guest (in one instance twice, as the first time I was simply told I was in a restricted area that was supposed to have been gated). I was told one early morning by the hotel staff that I was “stressing the guests.” They did let me stay after I clarified I was one of those guests. I do try to be very mindful about what I am tying up to, and generally prefer a sign post, light stanchion, or other structural feature to a tree. Give it a good tug before you tie up, though, as some of these things are surprisingly flimsy.
A great place to sling a hammock is the corner of a chain link fence, as long as it is tall enough. The nice thing about that is that it is almost infinitely adjustable to the correct distance for a sling.
Recently, the Golden Gate Park Rangers have really clamped down on the hammock scene at the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival. At one point, you could find collectives set up on the hills around the venue. I even had one woman sling up her hammock using the same tree I was, and wrapping her cord around mine so that I was “trapped.” She did eventually release me.
The last time, there was so much fencing I felt like we were penned into a crowded refugee camp. I do understand these concerns. Terrorist attacks like the one in Las Vegas targeted a concert. Incidents like the Ariana Grande concert in Manchester, England, and the Boston Marathon are haunting. Ultimately, we all need to be safe, smart, and observant. Somehow adding more chain link fencing, and clearing out the hammock crowd, does not really make me feel either.
I suppose all the concern by authorities over hammock placement has led me to seek the ultimate in hammock camouflage, or the “Cammock.” My tongue-in-cheek claim is that it assists in bird watching, but the reality is that it may allow me to do some discreet concert viewing without harassment.
A hunting friend and I were discussing use of hammocks as a hunting blind. He mentioned that shooting a rifle from a hammock could create some really interesting pitching and swinging. I thought it sounded a bit like a Little League baseball game – but he then added “It should be done with one shot, anyway!” I would think the choice between sitting on a tree stand and sitting in a hammock would be obvious, although there is a risk that one could fall asleep just as a big buck was strolling by.
“My father was visiting India, and one night he shot an elephant in his pajamas!”
“How did the elephant get into his pajamas?”
Bennett Cerf’s Book of Laughs, 1959
I have enjoyed doing time-lapse photography, capturing scenes of clouds swirling and shadows creeping. One thing about that pastime is that it does take a lot of time, and a hammock is the ideal resting zone. I decided one day to go film the departure of “Wilson” from the San Francisco Bay Area. Wilson is the name given to the large floating structure designed to sweep plastic up in the Great Pacific Gyre, part of the Ocean Cleanup Project. Named after Tom Hanks’ volleyball in the movie Cast Away, it was assembled on Alameda Island and was being towed out to sea, under the Golden Gate Bridge.
I went to a nearby ridge, set up the camera on a handy stump, hooked up the hammock, and settled in. I pulled up the live-stream on my phone, so I could actually watch and listen to the details as it was all being towed out to sea. The hours stretched…and the camera clicked.
At one point I got up to check on the camera, and as I was hopping up onto the stump, a LONG black snake emerged and shot past me. Clearly, I was trespassing! At least he didn’t tell me “That hammock has to GO!”
Mi Mayan Hamaca 