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Chapter 3-First Mud
(This story was inspired by Muddybootsnlevis' excellent "The Mud Business". My story and the characters in it are 100% fiction, with one exception: like my story's narrator, I wished I could work at Muddybootsnlevis' fictional Drilling Mud Company)

I'd planned to leave at dawn, but because of what happened with Axel last night, I didn't get out the door and into my Ram until noon. San Francisco was cold and foggy, but as I crossed the Golden Gate Bridge, headed for Oregon, the Headlands to the north were bathed in sunlight. It was going to be a beautiful, clear day. I wished my life were as clear. It was clear, until last night, but Axel changed everything. I was starting my big adventure suddenly unsure who and what I was. I couldn't get Axel's email this morning out of my mind:

Jason
Last night was special. Let's do it again. Your trip sounds wild. Send me pix. Be safe.
Axel

I'd been planning and dreaming about this adventure for weeks. I was tired of reading about other peoples' mud adventures on UMD and seeing their muddy photos and videos. I wanted my own muddy adventures. I had always been a lurker on UMD. I'd never mudded myself, just fantasized it. I didn't know where to find mud or people to mud with, so I did something radical: I used my three weeks of accumulated vacation time to go out and find my own mud. I was going finally get muddy. Epically muddy.

I'm a pretty basic person. I like wearing old, clothes, nothing fancy. I've always bought all my clothes at Costco. Sensible stuff. I'd wear my Costco jeans and tee shirts until they wore out, and I wore them in the shower, getting soaked and getting aroused, fantasizing being in deep mud like the folks I saw on UMD.

But for this adventure, I wanted something special. I'd always liked clothes like Levi's 501s but never wanted to spend the extra money on them. But I'd bought the truck. I might as well spend a little more money on clothes, so I bought several pairs of new Levi's 501s, Carhartt shirts, a Levi's jacket, Carhartt Wellington boots, all stuff that sounded cool in Muddybootsnlevis' stories. I felt like a new man in my new clothes. I even propped my phone against the wall and got a full body photo of myself in my new clothes. I loved what I saw. This was a new me. This journey was going to be the start of a new life.

As I drove north on 101, tired from not enough sleep but excited to finally be on my way, I had lots of time to think. I was still stunned by what happened with Axel last night. I never imagined I'd have sex with a guy. I'm your typical vanilla straight American guy, at least I thought I was until last night. Now I didn't know what to think. I was sure I would never do anything like that again, but I had to admit, I liked Axel and wanted to see him again. Driving freeways gives you lots of time to think, and it's mostly what I thought about as I drove.

But I couldn't help also thinking about Melinda, my old lover from five years ago. She's big on the outdoors. We did a lot of camping and hiking together, especially in the Sierra. We hadn't talked in five years, but I was planning to camp the next three weeks. The only time I'd ever camped before was with her, so when I wasn't thinking about Axel, I was remembering those great times camping with Melinda in the Sierra.

Late in the afternoon, I found a nice little campground and set up my tent, but realized I'd forgotten to bring milk. I had been looking forward to making pancakes my first morning in the woods, like Melinda always did, so I drove into town, bought some milk, and put it in my cooler.

I'd planned to drive straight back to the campground, but I noticed a bar where it sounded like people were having fun. I don't usually go to bars alone, but I'd gone to one last night and met Axel. I still felt strange about having had sex with a guy. Maybe I wanted to pretend it never happened. My mind can run wild sometime. I guess it was running wild them. I saw myself meeting the woman of my dreams in this tiny Humboldt town, and settling down here, spending the rest of my life here with someone I loved, raising kids, all of that. It was crazy, I admit, but I was exhausted from too much driving and not enough sleep and still denying I'd slept with a guy.

Fantasizing wildly, I walked inside, sat at the bar, and ordered a beer. The guys there were mostly working guys. A lot looked like they'd come straight from work, dirt or mud still clung to their boots and jeans, some still greasy. I'd never been in a place like this. I felt out of place immediately, but also excited. This was a world I wanted to experience. These guys did the kind of work I wished I could do.

(Today, sitting my apartment and writing this account of my journey, I wonder how I could have been so nae, so totally stupid. It's amazing how much you can grow up in a three week journey. I'm proof. If I was in that bar with those guys today, I'd hang out with them. I'd have no problem. Since that day, I've worked with much tougher guys than them and I've worked a job much tougher and dirtier than anything they do. I'll tell about it in chapter 8. I'm a different person today than I was in that bar.)

At first, I didn't feel anything wrong in the bar. I chatted a little with the guys sitting next to me, but by my second beer, I noticed that when they left, no one else sat on the stools next to me. I started getting a strange feeling. I looked around and noticed that sometimes I'd see someone looking at me but they'd turn suddenly away when I looked at them.

Then the bartender came. He pretended to be wiping the bar even though it was clean and dry.
"We don't get many of your type here."

"My type?"

"You're from San Francisco?"

"Same thing."

That's when I it occurred to me. I was wearing brand new 501s, a brand new Carhartt tee shirt, brand new Wellingtons, brand new Levi's jacket. All of it was spotless. Brand new. And a stereotype. I stuck out like a sore thumb here.

I started to say "I'm not gay", but realized it was a really dumb thing to say and that no one would give a shit.

The bartender went on, "I don't want trouble here. And you look like a nice kid. You get what I'm saying?"
I did. I thanked him, left a generous tip, and left. Didn't even finish my beer. Got back in the Ram and drove out of town. Fast. I even kept looking behind to be sure no one was following me. No one was, my imagination was just running overtime, but I was that paranoid. It was all stupid I admit, but like I said, I was different then than I am now. This trip changed me.

I remembered seeing a pond near my campsite, so I returned to the campsite, went to the pond, searched for a spot where no one would see me, and started wading, then just leaped in. When I finally came out, soaked and feeling hard as a rock, it felt glorious. Walking back to my campsite, I met another camper who asked where he might be able to get a cell signal. I was so wet that water dripping from my clothes was forming puddles on the ground. I was embarrassed. No one had ever seen me this way. He was looking at me really strangely. I almost made an excuse and said I'd accidently fallen in, but decided not to. Let him wonder.

I ate dinner in those wet clothes at my campsite, but as I ate, I began to think. Where there's water, there might be mud, so after eating, I returned to the pond and sure enough found mud. It wasn't deep. It was nothing like the mud I've enjoyed since then, but it was mud. My first mud.

Very carefully, I knelt in the mud. It squished under my knees. I pushed my knees deeper. I reached down into the mud and scooped up handfuls, rubbing it into my Levi's. It felt so good. I then laid on my stomach in the mud and crawled around, feeling excited. I'd always been jealous of seeing folks getting muddy on UMD. It used to be vicarious fun, just watching others. This was different. This was real mud and I was in it. It was soaking into my clothes, covering my skin, arousing me. I rolled around, giving my back equal opportunity to get as mud-slimed as my front. I'd never felt like this. Being hard only begins to describe how I felt.

But I needed to get sleep for tomorrow's drive, so I forced myself to calm down and went to the pond, where I cleaned myself and my clothes as best I could. The water was cold and the night was getting colder. It was time to stop, but I knew that for me, this was only the beginning.


My story continues in Chapter 4, where I find mud and guns in the Sierra.