Mountain Music and Wild Animals

Random Order's drummer Manny on the one-lane Dunster Flower Bridge


Early Friday afternoon at the Robson Valley Festival

August 28
On the road again

Leaving Dunster, BC. Reeling from such beauty, such wonderful people, the witnessing of a large extended family who have gone back to the land to live a life of near self-sufficiency, love and creativity. They have their own band called called Mamaguroove which was a highlight of the festival for us to enjoy. The Robson Valley Music Festival is their labour of love in its 3rd year and our Saturday night set was one of the most satisfying performance experiences I've had. We were tight, we put on a great show as a power trio rocking the big stage, the sound was top-notch and the audience ate it up. It was sweet to see the laughing face of a toddler repeatedly flying up above the crowd as he was tossed by his dancing father. After our set, I took my pumped up body into the crowd and danced to Mr Something Something. Went backstage and got down ridiculously with Celina, a very cool woman from Haida Guaii who I met through Lynn. Felt SO good to let loose with such a dose of dancing. The next day we closed out the festival after our afternoon set, joining Mr Something Something and a few others for a massive jam. Manny played cowbell, I played shekere and we sang back-up together. There must have been 12 people on stage and the dancing was ablaze.


That delicious performance-audience spiraling energy in action!

This festival was set in the most idyllic grounds one could imagine. It's right next to the Fraser River and almost surrounded by mountains. The main house, inhabited by the matriarch -- Grandma Aileen, is a rustic but grand log home with splendid gardens of flowers and vegetables. It was heartwarming witnessing this big family function. What a life -- they grow much of their own food, make and record music in their homey studio, organize an annual festival, build their own beautiful homes and seem to work hard at seeing to the needs of their many children, some of whom performed in a band of their own.


The Mother Inn




Danielle, our indispensable road manager, left us to our devices when she flew home from Edmonton.

August 30

Northwest Territories

Been driving north from Edmonton since yesterday morning. Spent last night camped just inside the border of the Northwest Territories. The public campgrounds here all offer these lovely screened octagonal log shelters which have firepits in the centre of the gravel floor. These serve both for protection from the elements and from grizzly bears.


The anti-Grizzly hut

The vastness of this land is astounding. We've been on the same highway for two days and, besides the road, signs of human presence are few and far between. It's such a relief to be in a wilderness strong and massive -- to feel so small and at its mercy as we drive long hours, slicing through it on a thin line of pavement between gas fill-up opportunities. Today we are driving through Wood Buffalo National Park and have so far encountered mountain goats and five small herds of these magnificent animals. I'm so glad they have this chance to renew themselves here after such near genocide in recent centuries from the times they thundered all over the continent.





It's hard to believe that out of this wilderness an urban centre will appear where we will, by all accounts of the band's previous visits, have a very lively time.

August 31
Yellowknife

Well here I am in Yellowknife, Northwest Territories. The folks here are very welcoming and we're being treated like royalty. But the town is really rather dreary and everything is insanely expensive. I ordered two Guinesses to celebrate the end of the two-day journey and my bill was $20! But aparently these prices reflect the high wages that obviously must be paid to entice people to stay here through the long, dark, cold winter. Just as well -- I've been feeling like a flabby sloth lately as a result of the combination of significantly less exercise than usual, too much junky food and, even as the serious lightweight in the band, more alcohol than I ever normally drink at home. I'm happy to save the cash and skip out on the beer and heavy food for a few days! But in any case, it seems we'll be fed well with a few culinary invites. Looking forward to a whitefish dinner at a chef's home on Sunday! While I have had some wonderful runs in spectacular places and have been doing a bit of yoga when I can, it sure will be good to get back to eating well and shaping up again. And Bibi, I miss my beloved yoga class!

I've been given instructions by Renée (Pilgrim) to look up her cousin Molly and "rock her up". I've done my duty and look forward to meeting her tonight. Renée -- she sounds a lot like you on the phone. But could she possibly be as cute and cool?

One thing that I do appreciate about the layout of the town is that there is a lot of art all around to perk up the otherwise dreary urban environment ...









... and an example of the otherwise dreary urban environment

September 1st
Yellowknife



Jack Layton gets a bass lesson!

Hoping to enjoy the Aurora Borealis tonight since it's a clear sky. The preshow has been the beautiful sunset and big yellow moon. This has to be my favourite thing about this tour -- having spent so much time in such diverse natural beauty. It really is a salve for the city-hardened soul. Add that to the time on Denman Island and it has been a wonderful dose of nature. I have felt such a joy in her embrace. There have been moments of awe-inspiring beauty. I was stopped in my tracks a few times the night of the full moon while in Dunster. I'd come down the dirt road from my tent to the festival grounds and be stunned deliciously by the moon shining through a gap in the trees, casting rippled silver on the mighty Fraser River and silhouetting the mountains. I fear it will be a challenging transition getting back to life amidst concrete, traffic and smoggy skies.

August 20 - posted from Smithers, B.C.

Morning mountain view from our campground on the way to Houston, B.C.


At the Duncan Garage on Lynn's birthday


At the Whistlestop, Courtenay, B.C.


At the Whistlestop, Courtenay, B.C.



Seeking an endorsement from Myoflex, topical analgesic (for Lynn's carpal tunnel and my cellbow, i.e. tennis elbow caused by cello playing).


Through a glass darkly -- Happy Jack's, Houston, B.C.

August 20
Trans-Canada Highway, en route to Houston, B.C.

How can one not be awed and enjoy a sense of power when surrounded by these magnificent mountains? Two parallel rainbows graced a chunk of our drive yesterday. We camped last night next to the Thompson River. The pines seem to cling tenuously to the rugged, sandy range. Besides the highway, there are few signs of human activity save the odd farm or hillbilly shack. I had a brisk hike up a switchback path this morning and felt a certain pride in being a part of all this. Found a spot with an incredible vista and enjoyed a few quiet moments of just breathing and being. Appreciating this time out from my usual load of responsibilities. Steamed two farm-fresh cobs of corn in their husks over the fire last night. With only a sprinkling of salt, 'twas as satisfying to my palate as any gourmet concoction.





While I tend to keep to myself between sets at shows -- reading or writing -- I had two very interesting conversations at the Whistlestop Pub in Courtenay. The first was with Laurie, a woman from Toronto in her late forties who has been out of the Pen for just 3 weeks since having served 10 years. She'd killed the person who violated her 2-year-old daughter in a crack craze. (That daughter is now a lawyer!) She told me all about her life in prison including the surprising fact that they distil liquor from both banana and potato peels. Seems one can obtain almost anything in there if willing to offer sexual favours to the guards. But sometimes the sex isn't given but taken. Laurie was raped by a male guard and was forced give up the resulting child. Blind eyes cast away from the crime despite such irrefutable evidence.

Later I spoke with Jerry, a 40-year-old treaty negotiator for the local First Nation. We had an amazing conversation all about the history of colonialism and the ensuing plight of his people. He told me about his mother's experience in a residential school and how he was taken from her when she birthed him at the age of 16. He acknowledges that he was one of the lucky ones, having been brought up well by a loving white couple. And now he's dedicating his life to fighting to secure land rights and the culture of his people. While this was an emotional conversation, he did not seem bitter or self-pitying. I was happy to find I could feel comfortable asking him anything about his experience and expressing my own thoughts and feelings on the subject of aboriginal genocide.

August 13-17: Shawnigan Lake, Duncan & Courtenay, B.C.

Leaning into it with Lynn at Cowichan Bay

This is the Club Med experience of tourning compared with last fall's heavy grind with the Kellygirls. We've anchored for four days at the home of Elvy and her daughters Georgia and Monica. I've just done some yoga in a shady spot on the grass and now I'm in a lounge chair on the dock with my tea and a mountain vista across the water. We have the entire day and night and most of tomorrow to kick back here before the Duncan Garage show that will be Lynn's birthday bash. We had a great gig last night in a pituresque little fishing village called Cowichan Bay. People were super friendly and enthusiastic dancers. Made a good connection with one of the programmers of the Islands Music Festival. She has a Brazen Crush demo and already proposed a double bill with Random Order.


Hard-working musician!

After I've had a dip and a bite I'm heading up to the Trans-Canada Trail for a run. Curious to see the old wooden trestle bridge that remains from the glory days of sadly disused Trans-Canada Railroad. Just hope to avoid the area's resident cougars!

Hope to get into a little cello playing today. Anxious to know how my injured elbow will fare. Concerned about compromising the Random Order shows with any further physical hindrance. After all, I am on orders by a chiropractor, an RMT and an osteopath to avoid playing at all. But I miss that expressive meditation and am concerned about slipping back in my skill and in the strength of those specialized cello muscles with such a gap in practicing. Need to dig up stronger faith that I can heal myself rather than wallow in frustration and pessimism.

August 16 - Duncan, B.C.



Fun show at the Duncan Garage but not such a good turnout. I went for a walk after soundcheck and found the little town well tucked in. Seems Longevity John runs the only spot in town that rocks the midnight hour. He is a wonderfully eccentric stoner hippie who handed out nose flutes to everyone and conducted an impromptu workshop. What a hoot! A much loved supporter of independent music, even Eliza Gilkyson, reigning queen of Texas alt-country has played his groovy little joint.


Lynn's mug on a fine example of abysmal graphic design

August 17 - en route to Courtenay, B.C.

The sun keeps finding places to burn through the clouds. My creative drive and desire will prove victor over the physical obstacle which handicaps me now. So hard to find peace with my body's need for recovery time, though, while my spirit is fed so essentially by the many rewards on this musical path. The pain is worse when I play the cello -- the very instrument I feel so whole-heartedly dedicated to.


And then there was light and the music was groovy ...

August 6-9 from Denman to Galiano

August 6
Last day on Denman Island

The end of a rich chapter. Fourteen 10-hour days of study with Fiona and Willow Walker, exploring the body and how to gift it with my hands and energy. Looking forward to getting a table and praciticing and then coming back to this beautiful place next summer.

Sure was a delight to sink into the warm, shallow Pacific waters this afternoon. Twas quite the reward at the end of a mossy forest path right out of the most charming storybook. Springy earth cushioning each step and air a luscious feast for the lungs among tall cedars. Slightly saddened but also awed by the ghosts of the butchered old-growth evidenced by the colossal stumps here and there. We stopped for a few moments, risking bites, to listen to the remarkable clatter of the thousands of busy ants whose path we crossed.

August 9
Galiano Island

Hunkered down to the quiet day of rest at Onli's comfy little home on Galiano. Enjoyed a big sleep last night and am happy to have this day mostly to myself while Onli attends to errands in Victoria. There was so little time outside of the intensive interaction with the other students on Denman and as of tomorrow I will be with bandmates 24/7 for three and a half weeks, in crowds at festivals and in bars. For one who enjoys much alone time in my life in Toronto, this is quite an overload of interaction. So today, I'm relishing in the time to write, to practice, to be quiet and reflect.

August 2 - Grief

Over the last few days, I had been sharing with one of the other participants stories about the addicts we have loved. My deep and easy sleeps of late have been traded for two episodes of insomnia in a row. Last night, once I finally slept, Linda came to me in a dream and sat so clearly and presently with me. I awoke veiled by a weight of grief and sadness. Her presence flashed through me all morning and I felt emotion well up, knowing it needed to spill.

We focusssed on massaging the belly in class and as I lay supine, vulnerable to Donna's learning but loving hands. I felt relaxed and safe enough that I let myself crumble and tears poured through. I had told Donna of my dream at breakfast so she knew what was happening. Yet my gush of emotion triggered her own and she was also quickly in tears. By the time I had any more consciousness of what was happening around me, Gaert and Alexis were also crying and Kelly, presumably overwhelmed, left the studio. FIona took matters very professionally and lovingly and stood over me cradling me psychically with her soothing voice and words and, as I wept, I was vaguely aware of her making some gestures with her hands over my heart. It's been thirteen years since Linda's death and such rushes of grief are few are far between. It is obvious that being in this place, going through this intense and opening physical and emotional learning experience has pulled away some layers and exposed the thin veil of my subconscious, offering the time and a safe and nurturing place to grieve. I suppose I will always carry this sadness within. I'm so grateful that there is also so much joy and love in my life.