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Road letter #6:

I’m in montreal,I just flew in. I’m staying at the HILTON, my favorite hotel, but only for 5 hours, as there is a 5;40 lobby call to fly way up north to a reservation for 2 days.Played at some fancy persons family home in the prairies last night, fun, saw about 30 old black light posters from the ’70s in their work shop, which blew my mind, best collection I have ever seen……… this trip is pretty nutty, lots of flights. One month from today i will be in Barcelona ….
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HEY we play a lot of corporate gigs these days, some with other bands, Loverboy, who play many of the same types of gigs as we, and are a riot to share the brotherhood with. Mike Reno is so fun, what a great singer, I stand right up front and just listed to his power and range, amazing. And Paul Dean (guitar player) is a great story-teller………corporate gigs are like private holidays for both the band and the audience. Great food, always the best hotels…….. so many good shows.
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Road letter #7:
I swam in the ocean today, mid-July, dove into lake Okanogan a few weeks ago the day of a gig there, as a  new friend of the band, a great dude who owns the local music store, took us on a fast boat, other than that it is hotel pools coast to coast. But they are still so COOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLD. Okanogan Lake was freezing, but you gotta go for it, don’t you?
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And libraries. I love going to the local library in towns, seeing what people are reading. I love Black history month, and this year we were all at home to enjoy it. Tracy-Lyn and I volunteered for the gospel events, set-up tables, Tracy served at a buffet and we danced and I got some new insight into Black spiritual music. Inspiring, oh yeah. This is all stuff you can do for free if it you find it interesting, and I do.

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Road letter output #8:

OK, 10-hour flight day, including stop overs, started up North Quebec, landed what, 4 times ? That is too many trips through security, only to see the Nairobi shooting club, all in suits get their guns from the carousel in the end………….oh lord, thank you for getting me off of those planes………At a best western now in an administration room in the hotel, midnight, have some tofu in my suitcase, just ate it. yum, what a nut, everyone else is starved, nothing happening……………YET………….

The first guy I met here was a CREE fiddler, so I asked him for lessons, went into his room and he showed me some neat stuff, fiddling is an actual living tradition here, everyone plays the same tunes, the same way, all by ear, nobody reads music, super old old school……..and this guy, it turns out, is the grand chief from the council, meaning that he is the main chief, the chief’s chief………the leader of the entire group of Cree nations…..and hey i was in this town 15 years ago, and it was so isolated, and people were so, what, I dunno…. timid. Now they all have cell phones, have had lots of big rock bands play, can get whatever they want, and now they are no longer so shy, that’s the word……………yes the world is changing, there far less secrets, everyone knows how everyone else lives, and we are becoming some kinda one big generic Americanish media culture………….for better of worse, who knows?

Good news is that some of these little towns are getting bigger WALMARTS out of the deal.

And i was concerned that there would be no food her, as sometimes is the case on very remote gigs, yet here we get set up with 3 meals a day in the cafteria of some huge construction company, enough food to kill our roadies…………..and the extra freight on AirCreebec is  $5 per pound………..and then they invite us to the island where their community used to be, before quebec hydro moved the entire town…and i sit in the back of a new ford escalade pick up thing down dirt roads, practicing a fiddle song that a kid just showed me on the street, then joined by a native gal in the box of the fab new pick-up, and we drive onto a barge that runs all day, no signs, just a barge to an island where about 4 people live, and drive to this ghost town reserve with half fallen-over ancient churches………whoo…..spooky…(for real)…….and look at grave yards, and i find the nice sandy beach, in the mouth of James Bay………and i go around the corner where nobody is and jump in, and get out and walk around in my baggy jeans and wet hair and cross from South Africa……. no shoes, all rocked-out, and someone says that I should go and sit inside  the tee-pee, which i do, and everyone is sitting in a circle around a fire, with a goose on a string hanging, slow cooking, and a really old Native lady sits quietly cooking bannock on a stick, telling stories, (quietly)and there is no smoke, and it is hot, and it is summer, and i have done some pretty neat things, but this was perhaps the most cosmic thing of the summer, for real, not a museum, actual real natives up noth in a teepee cos that is what they do, no rock and roll bullshit talk, just the water, sky, the birds…………..peace……………

………and we get back into the 3 trucks, and I chat with the most openly gay guy i have ever seen, and really the only gay native guy i have ever met,  he laughs at everything…………….and some French  Canadian roadies are there too, and i get back into the pickup, like i did when i was a kid, pull out the violin, and the big native gal starts yelling at the other trucks not to go any farther “cos there is nothing there!”, then she says that she has “never been this far up this road”, so we look and climb on a huge old rusty ship, and go farther down the road, and even Dennis, our big gracious and loving host, (the same age as me but looks 60) isn’t so regular at this beach, unbelievable…..like a mini Prince Edward Island beach..and I am a serious beach critic, and this one was the softest sand and it went on forever, so what do I do ? I take of the shirt and shoes and RUN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Wheeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!…………..and i run as far as i can from everyone, until they are little specs on the beach, and i drop my drawers and run in. and it is cold!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is the mouth of
James Bay, and the first swim was more of the Chisasibi river, this one was more of the arctic or whatever silly ocean it is that fills the hudsons bay…cold………………..well, there is something to the old cliches about swimming in cold water, like first of all, that it is really COLD, but I swam around had a great time………….and i run back and jump into my pants and shirt and run around and end up back with everyone, who were all really far away and all giddy about seeing a porcupine walking around beside them……………

Well,  guess they thought i was the wildman of the day. I guess i could have gotten the cultural hint when the last people i saw were all bundled up like eskimos, ………so nobody could BELIEVE that i went in swimming…we all go back on the barge and i shake the sand out of my toes, and back to the cafeteria on the main reserve, …and i go back to the hotel, which is above a twighlight zone community hang out auditorium where old men play checkers VERY slowly, and up the concrete stairs and i take a quick nap, and we go on at whatever hour cos time isn’t of the greatest concern to some of  these guys………and i go backstage and our host says that the tribal band council had a meeting and they decided to name that beach GOGO BEACH.

So i guess they are Ok with me and my silly way of dealing with the JOY of being there. I have never had a beach named after me, quite an honour, and such a nice beach!

I don’t suppose they would let me move just a littel part of that Beach out West?………
And as a reult of that fun trip, the people are so kind that they have invited me to camp out there anyime, on Gogo Beach, anytime…………..and this in on a part of First Nations land that
is NOT open to the public. Something to write home about.

And I really like the chief of all chiefs, the main Cree of the world, the fine fiddler, i really like him a lot, and we will stay in touch……………
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