Just One Little Hitch
Hippies were everywhere. Small groups of them were coming up the A303 from the west, others from the east. I saw hippies cresting a rise to the north. In the distance, hippies were climbing over the stones of the monument. They were setting up tents and tepees and makeshift shelters. Scattered about the field one could find hogans, hovels, wickiups, and homemade sunshades. Pennants, flags, and brightly colored strips of cloth flapped and snapped from tree-branch poles next to the rude lodgings. The growing colony on the grassland looked like a cross between a medieval fair and an Arapaho village.