T17 KUUJJUAQ Quebec

Where do I even start with this one?

We took a night off in Montreal in order to wake early and catch a flight to Northern Quebec, known as NUNAVIK.

I could talk about this place all day, but with the intent of getting this report posted, I will submit a few of Smitty’s pictures:

A few things not photographed, the kitchen in the hotel, my Arctic skinny dip, the AQPIK jam I brought home. I love these people. They are so nice. Words cannot describe the warmth that these people let into our lives.

There are 12 communities, accessible only by flight, one flight a day, and the big gathering featured our performance in a new state-of-the-art theatre facility. There were 2 other rock bands, one with Cree language, and the local girls singing their native Throat singing music earlier. I listened to that, amazed.

The parking lot outside of the theatre looked like the parking lot of Walmart, except that it was all ATVs, rather than cars. People came from all over to this gig. Miles and miles.

Those ATVs can go anywhere, you know. I was amazed at the hills that Smitty went up. I followed him when we went for our blast, but gave up on following him. Too crazy! I had to keep going through swamps as mosquitoes surrounded my face, biting and biting and biting.

I had welts all over my head, neck and face for a week. Big hard itchy lumps everywhere. Other than that, what a great opportunity to see the beautiful Quebec Arctic. It would cost a fortune to visit this place and do all the stuff that we did, and still not get to tour people’s houses like we did. Man, what a way to make friends. I love the Inuit people.

You walk down the street and someone offers you a ride. One guy pulled over and offered us a boat trip. We went to see a sunken tanker, saw an Island that has polar bears. Mind blower. Exhausted after a while. Ate lots of snacks at the hotel with Scott and Ra. Food is kinda expensive up there. Everything has to be flown in, of course.

F20 ST. JOHN’S Newfoundland

My friend Terry, the harmonica master, has disappeared. So I played harmonica on his porch alone. Lots of flights these days. Wow, here we are in Newfoundland again!

I ran into Frankie on my jog up Signal Hill. I did some boony bashing along side the cliffs as I lost my way and watched the sun go down. This is the most Easterly part of North America.

I wandered book stores, bought the new Neil Young CD, slept in a huge corner suite hotel and sat onstage with a woman yelling complaints at me while Craig and Stoby got screeched in onstage (an old Newfoundland tradition). Strangely, it was 95% women in the crowd, a huge screamer gig. Everyone was standing and yelling for the bow, including Mrs. Complainy-Pants who was bugging me earlier when I sat and watched the screech-in.

Something bugged me at this gig, and I can’t remember what it was. The sound? Dunno. I think my keyboard was really low, or something. Frankie’s drums were seriously falling apart all night and it was driving him nuts. He was actually mad backstage. He was still smiling but told me that he was extremely pissed off. At one point, there were 3 guys on stage with power tools attaching wood to the stage to make the drums stop sliding.

Don’t get me wrong. Great gig. Bit of a fight backstage though.

Everyone ready to go home? I walked home from the gig. Lots of airports on this tour (I NEVER get my bag checked at the Toronto airport anymore. Before 911, they would look through my stuff and take bottles of wine telling me that the bag was “too heavy.”) Airport security is so strange. Now I just walk through.

S21 BRANTFORD Ont

Huge outdoor festival, free admission, April Wine closed the show, thousands of people on hillsides. Largest and most comprehensive deli-trays of the year in a backstage trailer. Enough snacks to make sandwiches and pour orange juice for the people outside the fence.

Huge T-shirt signing, at the bottom of a hill with bright lights in our faces and thousands of people looking down to us. It took a long time to say hi to everyone who was interested in saying hi. Tons of kids.

S22 DARRINGTON Washington

The show was at 3 in the afternoon. After a few pretty serious travel days, we leave Ontario early enough (like a couple hours after the last show!) to arrive in Vancouver, Mike takes a cab to get his van, we transfer gear and people to the budget truck rental place in White Rock, drive to the border, cross with no problems at all, drive a few hours into the USA, and arrive at the outdoor gig site in time to see Chilliwack walking offstage with their guitars. Thousands of miles, and we arrive right to the minute, on time.

You got that? The Arctic gig. Saint Johns Newfoundland, the Ontario thing, now Washington State. Talk about zing zing zing.

The Chilliwack guys were super friendly. Bill said “Gogo! My Friend!” something that I like to hear from one of my heroes. They had played in Nanaimo the night before and had missed me throwing flowers at their feet (like Tracy and I do.)

Ed Henderson (guitar player) said he was Ok with me trying to drag him onstage during Frankie’s drum solo at our last gig together, (RED DEER) but by the time Frankie’s solo came up again, they had all left the site, so I found Jeff (Paul Roger’s BAD COMPANY drummer) (and also Smitty’s great friend) and he enthusiastically hammered a big pail with Frankie to an intensity that completely lifted my spirits, woke all the gods and blew the collective mind of the festival audience. I wish I had an audio tape of THAT. Never heard anything so intense.

The Americans took us in so lovingly. I met hundreds of people, all equally enthusiastic and giving of their gratitude, good wishes, good vibes and funny stories. We signed acoustic guitars with stars and stripes painted on them, (made in CHINA), and after an hour of handshakes got to eat eat eat eat eat like never before at some gourmet catering in a backstage tent. Salads, everything!

A couple of kids sat with us and for some reason there was a bedpan on the table. One kid accidentally flipped it onto Scott’s plate, and apologized heavily. We laughed and I said “we are having a potty tonight! Potty on man!”

A new, excellent backstage trailer was also set up with snacks. And our biggest American fan, Chip Ryle, was there with stuff to sign, stuff for us to read, and a general great attitude about life and music. Kevin Cahoon presented a DVD to each member of the band. He had videoed the Port Moody gig with 3 cameras, edited it, and I still have yet to thank him for that. What a great memento. What a great friend. I brought them a plate of catering before we took back off for the Canadian border. I hope that they got to stay at the festival for quite a while.

Mitch Ryder and The Detroit wheels were playing, and  I was digging their Huge Hammond organ, Joan Jett was walking around, and all the other band guys were patting us on the back for having swung such a fun set. We were high on the gig, and tired to the bone from the last few days. Mike hadn’t slept in a bed for several days. He was tired.

In the van, we noticed that we were all shutting down physically. Frankie was still able to run across a parking lot for an ice cream cone. We breezed through the US international border, and just before we parted ways, Mike (our 7-year soundman and road manager for Trooper) approached Ra and Smitty and gave notice that he was leaving the group.

Scott met up with his wife and daughter and I continued to the ferry with Mike and Frankie in the big van. Mike explained his position to us. Wow, blew my mind. We are sure going to miss him. And I told him so.

Ok, I gotta get some snooooooooooze, will continue this late……….(I am in my studio right now, pray for rain so I can type the rest of this out!)

F13 PETERBOROUGH ON

Ok, we are still touring here, folks. Peterborough is a clean and funky old Ontario town. Our big luxury hotel alongside a river, with a blues band tastefully wailing away on a balcony by the picnic tables. I went for the most ridiculous jog of my life.

This story is so stupid that I can not even read it over again to proofread it.

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It was already getting dark by the time I left, and I had a plan to go around the lagoon, by the rich houses, through a huge cemetery, and I imagined that I could figure out how to get onto the trestle back to the hotel, creating a complete circle. Well, by the end of the cemetery, which was a complete jog in itself, it was dark out, and I was in another town, along a busy road, down to a creepy public campsite with fires, flashy cars and chain-wearing kids, and a self-proclaimed overworked lady in a shed, selling firewood for $5 a bundle (I could be RICH back home!) who gave me completely false and dangerous directions back to the hotel. She also gave me a mag, which did me no good in the dark, not knowing where I was.

So I followed her line-of–shit to the Train bridge, which was across a soccer field, around a trampled wire fence by the river, down a scary path, up to a train track and halfway across a river until the bridge ended, where you drop to your death, I guess. So I walked back along the tracks, in the dark, in the middle of the woods until I found a trail down to building with lights on, far away, surrounded by tall wire fences and fields, with another bridge, also with wire fences all around it, and of course, locked gates. Well, there was nobody around (I could have performed an excellent B ‘n E) and I jogged around and around looking for a way to get out.

It started to rain, of course, and the only way out was to somehow find the path back to the mystery train track, and a long long way to the campsite where I was originally lost, or to scale a fence on the outside of the locked gate bridge across the river. So I did my best Olympic fence climb and hang on for life across the bridge act, which wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, made it to the other side, read a NAVY sign, I guess it was an old folks NAVY recreation centre of some bullshit thing, gave it the finger, against my teachings, and jogged towards a car traffic bridge, where I was approached by a car full of young guys. Luckily they were really friendly, and also lost, so I gave them the map, and they were thrilled. I still had the map because it was too good to throw away. I was going to find something really nasty to do with it that would fit the crime of its uselessness even better. So I simply followed the sound of a dragster race track that I was grooving on earlier, back across another bridge, through the stinking graveyard, around the lagoon by the rich bastards, and I could hear the blues band stop playing, because they weren’t digging the rain either. I had no idea what time it was, other than the notion that we are on late, and I am probably not ruining the gig yet.

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I get back to the hotel, Scott is all mellow on a chair under a lamp reading Buddha books. I took a shower and went to the gig.

Strange to be doing a few club gigs again after a summer of big-ass festivals. This gig was bizarre, I figure. BIG venue, super high ceiling due to many levels and balconies. Like a huge, old forgotten theatre set up as a temporary nightclub. There was a wristband system that allowed it to be an all ages gig, so the floor was full of 15-year-olds. They were shy kids. Watched us like a TV for a while. I did a minimal keyboard solo, not knowing if they were into it, and they all applauded wildly afterward.

For the last few songs they all went totally NUTS and by the encore, a couple of bigger, older kids, looking  three times the size of anyone else, decided to make their own mosh pit and started slamming everyone around. That would have scared me to death when I was a little shy stoner.

There was an opening act REVOLVER who were sharing the backstage room with us. I wished that I had heard them, because I really liked them, personally. The singer (ex-Slick Toxic, Scott knows about this) chatted with Ra for quite while and I met everyone, had some laughs, got to invite their excellent drummer onstage for Frankie’s, recycling tub solo (he played really cool stuff with one hand) and I got to say goodbye to them as they all hauled off in a van together. I really liked them a lot, was sad to see them go, and hope to see them again. I will look into their website to hear what they do, coz I really don’t know, but am guessing that it is pretty darn heavy.

I really had no idea what their music is, but was surprised to see their promo poster later with the girl bass player making a puckering face, grabbing her crotch.

There was NO security at this gig, and the backstage door, way up up the balcony, had no door latch at all, and swung open on its own. After the gig, I had to ask some idiots to stop stealing the crew’s beer. They were so surprised that they stopped talking and laughing and just all looked at me. I got the hell out of there.

We play them all. All the gigs.

Some shows, I don’t go to the can without someone leading the way with a flashlight, soooooooo much security and NOBODY steals anything!!!!!!!!!!

We were not freaked out, of course, had a decent laugh that night, as always, and Ra gave strangers money on the street as I drove Scott and Ra to the pita pit, where my band mates treated me to the biggest food bomb of the century. Great sauces too!

(By the way, as I write this, we are back in the van, a week later, on a day off before hitting Newfoundland again, driving through the thick traffic of a Toronto highway, fast, slow, jerketty jerk, holding Smitty’s computer and trying not to barf.)

We were going to go home for 2 or 3 days, which I was quite excited about, but wound up back in Kingston, by popular vote over Wassaga Beach again (where we had the guy die at our bar-b-que). I had called my Uncle again as soon as we got into Kingston, got directions to Sharbot Lake, borrowed the van and hit the highway all by myself. I listened to Phil Collins Against All Odds on the radio and marveled at what a great singer he is. I read road signs into the cottage county, including one that had Seniors Crossing and couldn’t believe how many radio stations there are in Ontario.

I went through some lovely little towns, over bridges, over lakes, down a windy gravel road, past a swamp that my Uncle joked about way back when, and pulled up to the mythological cottage on Sharbot Lake. My Uncle and Aunt couldn’t stick around, but waited for my arrival (they are also my Godparents) and when they split, I was left with my cousin Billy, his wife and 3 cute little polite chatty kids (now I wanna have some too!) and I just babbled about how happy I was to be there. It was exactly how I remembered it, excellent. The cottage (a 3 story open designed house with many bedrooms) had been finished, and 2 guest cabins added as well. They have 1 and a half acres, which is a peninsula on this clear lake, so my guest cabin had 2 different lake views.

Nice place!

Billy and I stayed up until 2 am chatting, I cooked the perfect stir fry on a huge pan over the open fire, (I had brought groceries) and he doesn’t eat tofu. He is an engineer, researches and designs things for helicopters, travels to Europe 8 times a year, all over the states, and is a very excellent Dad. He was about 11 years old last time I was there.

I sure like my cousin. He took me for a 50mph boat ride (his new sea-doo challenger 1800) to a dark spot of the lake to see the milky way galaxy shooting stars spectacular. This was pretty mellow, with the loons making their CBC soundtrack in the background. The next day, once I had mellowed into the idea of being there, he took me tubing and for a spin of the lake, and I mean that boat can really spin. Kinda like this van on the highway as I write this. I gotta take a break………….

Ok, I’m back. I drove back, all by myself, to Kingston in time to hit the most excellent army surplus store to buy 3 more new hats to replace my beloved white tilly that I so sadly lost on this trip (anyone find it yet, please?)

This is the same store where Mike just bought a wonderful CENTENNIAL COLLAGE leather jacket, and Scott got a couple of retired funky work shirts for stage wear. Scott likes clothes shopping, and is quite good at it.

S8 LIVERPOOL NS

The holiday continues. We had a day off, where Scott went to play golf at White Point Resort, overlooking the sea. It was a planned outing accompanied by Craig and myself. I was on a mission to record every note of the funkiest grand piano in Canada on Craig’s digital 16 bit video camera, at 2 different velocities.

For years I have been scouring the back rooms of hotels for the best sounding neglected piano, and after staying at this resort last year, it has been burning in my mind to record this one. What a wonderful opportunity, I thank Craig for his assistance, and I was delighted to hear that he is quite an accomplished pianist as well. He had never mentioned that before! He showed me an excellent Chopin riff that I had been curious about, but never explored.

During our piano recording, a nice old fellow sat quietly trading stocks online. He had been the youngest professor every at Princeton, dropped out to do acid and other things in the ‘60s. Lives in New York, quite chatty when we stopped recording.

This magic, old worn Heintzman grand piano sits in a big empty room next to a loud restaurant with screaming rich kids, so we will see how the recordings turned out, I guess. This winter, I will sample each note into my KORG, fix the tuning and see if I can get the same funk electronically. That is why God invented Winter, so we can studio down while the bears sleep.

To thank Craig for his assistance, I rented a paddle kayak that we could trade off on to ride the gorgeous Atlantic waves on the resort’s beach. Unfortunately, the sea was petrifyingly, stunningly, and shockingly cold, and I could only stand a few ventures into the waves. I can handle some cold water, but this was too intense. It is hit and miss in that region, depending where the currents are coming from. Last year, I swam there all day, quite happily. So Craig kayaked across a lake, I swam across, we returned the boat, looked at a gift shop, received a free gift (a shot glass for Craig!) played tennis, met up with Scott, walked around and hit the road. A decent adventure at a fabulous resort. Not bad considering we were not even staying there. Everyone was mega-friendly and we had a great day off.

No, Wait! We did a gig in Liverpool before the day off. That was way better, because we got to know some people in town that way. We played the Astor Theatre, and grand old lady of the Maritime performing arts, and I found a coffin prop for Frankie’s drum solo. Craig also brought out a real scary mannequin of a possessed girl, complete with a dial on her back that makes the head spin. I dragged the coffin as Craig waltzed with the dummy. We are definitely getting more theatrical onstage.

I left a chair onstage and Ra sang the last half of Boy with a Beat in Pat Boone style, loungy, which I considered to be the single most funny thing he has ever done on stage. I couldn’t believe how excellently funny that was. So, the show was a success, and afterwards, Ra and Brian had a LOUD discussion with Mike (road manager) which I thought might get outta hand, but it always ends in a peace and love scene, as witnessed at the tavern at the Privateer Inn later on. Smitty invited me to play piano, so I swung some old standards for the restaurant act I did with my Dad, years ago, and If I were I rich man proved to be the big hit, until Tracy called, and I split to talk to her for the first time in several days.

Tracy was having some excellent life epiphanies, also feeling really good about having donated one of her paintings to a charity gig to raise money for a trust fund for kids left by a recent suicide dad. Her painting raised over $500, and she was treated really well at the event. I am so proud of her. She said that she wasn’t sure if I would have approved of her giving a painting away, which is funny, because I say ”Give it all away!”

So when we had our day off, after the piano recording and kayaking at White Point Beach Resort, Stoby arranged with a local, who was also a Trooper fan, to take us out on a fishing boat. I imagined a rustic old wooden tank, and was thrilled to see an ultra-modern fiberglass sport fishboat, with a walkaround design, at the marina. I had just returned from the grocery store, where I had bought a tray of nice sandwiches on sale (I didn’t know why I bought them!) so we had snacks, a V6 YAMAHA outboard, a great host, and away we (Smitty, Frankie, Sobey, Craig and I) went, to Coffin Island!

Our host, a successful financial planner, has a cabin (16’ by16’) alongside a dozen others on a clean little Island, covered in rocks the size of your hand. It felt like you were very, very far from anywhere. The East Coast Vibe was thick, (totally different vibe from West Coast Island fun) and the place was really beautiful. This scene was more about sport fishing and hanging out than about swimming and badminton.

Some kids arrived on their dad’s boat, and Dad had a freshly caught salmon, which he donated to the band. The boat went really swiftly into the sunset, and back at the Inn, the salmon was prepared and served lovingly by the chef. We all (all 8 of us), enjoyed a meal with our host, and the manager of the theatre. Good brotherhood scene all around, but my vegetarian diet was ruined. Oh well!

I had the chance to do a silent meditation in the hotel room during that stay, and I feel that I actually cleared my mind, for the first time, which lasted about a second and a half. All I saw was white light appearing, total overwhelming peace, and it freaked me out a bit, so I dumbly went WHOA and snapped out of it.

It was the same one-with-the–universe feeling that I got one day looking at the clouds, laying on the grass at school one day in kindergarten. My whole plan with meditation is to recapture and reconnect with that, which IS the God thing, so even a second and a half is very encouraging, and a total trip. Wish me luck, and I wish you luck as well, (not that luck is a legitimate concept.)

Hey, Scott was thrilled to learn that the hotel was haunted. It used to be a home of a poor lady, who stole bread, was hanged, and still haunts the 3^rd floor, in a room that never gets rented out. Scott got access to the room to feel the vibe. After a 15 minute meditation he gave up on it. Meanwhile, Smitty took a picture of a mansion down the road, and an old man across the street told him about that place being haunted as well. AND, the theatre manager told us that his house (an ex-funeral parlor) is so haunted that the ghosts tug at his blankets every night, move stuff around, and cause him quite an annoyance.

This groovy little maritime community also has more museums per capita than I have ever heard of. Craig was happy, being the tourist of the year that he is. I went looking for Thrift Store funky clothing and found a NEW long-sleeve shirt from the ‘60s, for $2.25, which came in useful when we went to the Arctic the next week. I had packed no jacket or decent shirt for this entire tour, because it was so hot at home when I packed. Dumb, hey?

I was tipped-off about a clothing warehouse several blocks away, so before we left town I had a rare treat. I walked into a gigantic room with stacks and stacks and stacks of used clothing, inside and outside, and a dozen people standing by barrels sorting. People were grading, cutting shirts into Industrial rags on special machines, and I was so blown away. I was approached by a well-dressed middle-aged fellow with a gold chain (the owner?) who gave me the “ten cent tour.” He buys used clothes by the pound, ships it up from the states, has it sorted, graded, compressed into bundles by huge machines wrapped, strapped, stacked on huge piles on palates, and shipped to 5 different African Nations. He does really well at this, seven days a week, all year, for every year since the town was started. I have never seen anything like this.

Yes, for sure he was the owner. Owners always wear the gold chain. If I ever go to Subway and I see the next Sandwich artist has the gold chain (and the rings) I kindly let the next person in line go ahead of me. That way I don’t get the skimpy sandwich. Any doughnut shop is like that as well. The gold chain person will charge $1.20 for a cup of hot water, and any employee will gladly give it to you for free.

Speaking of which, my new dehydrated road-food project is a total success, and instant mashed potatoes are a delight with hot water in any cup, in the van. I don’t know what the guys in the van think of this one, but every one is cool with everyone else’s trip, you know.

So what do we talk about in the van? A lot of spiritual stuff lately, as well, as Olympic swimsuits, colon cleaning and stupid crap that guys laugh about. I do a lot of impersonations of other people, not you, of course. I told everyone about the dream I had where my cat was talking.

At home, Jerimiah, now 3 years old, is finally starting to meow a bit. In my dream one night, he spoke in his meow voice “My Mommy has nice treats for me. Do you know where they are?” This is exactly the type of thing that he would say, and the dream was so real, that of course I believe that he spoke to me telepathically during the night.

I had the same thing with my dad, a week after he passed away. It was the same feeling. He said “Don’t worry about me, in a voice that sounded like he was 29 years old and full of confidence.

I sure miss the old guy.

As I edit this road report, a month or so later, listening to Peter, Paul and Mary in my studio, Jerimiah sits proudly, having caught 2 mice in the dishwasher last night. My dad would have been so proud!

T10 Moncton NB

It is still really hot out. I ate some apples from the front desk of the next hotel, but I didn’t use the beautiful outdoor pool. I have been so spoilt for swimming in the rivers, lakes and seas lately. I jogged along the ‘tidal bore’ where the Bay of Fundy delivers the highest tides on Earth. It was a great jogging path, no bugs, lots of people, skateboarders and couples. Even some young hippies playing guitar. I was feeling pretty high spirited, blessing everyone.

The gig was insane as well. Crowd surfing, and another solo that I was really proud of. The staff at the gig were all total brotherhood people, the crowd as one, the gig a dream. Sold out too!

I stopped taking notes for this road report, and I lost my itinerary, so I can only recall that we went onto Moncton, to a smaller venue, where I walked to the gig to get dinner, and back to the hotel with huge bags of take-out salad, pasta and onion rings, for Scott and I. Big bags of food. Smitty was eating at the venue, had drove back already, and Ra had already eaten at the hotel. Lots of grub for Scott and I. Too much. Good thing we had a ‘fridge in the room.

The hotel was by a cool ocean causeway. It was an old funky hotel. Historical. The town looked really old, neat, lots of French language, and the dressing room for the gig and small downstairs nightclub done up to look like a cave, with stage lights hanging down from the ceiling.

Nice big deli trays, a blown fuse which forced us back downstairs while a guy ran out to get a new fuse. The concert started up again, total sell-out. We played quite late.

T12 OTTAWA ON

We got up early (it was still dark out, 4am?) to catch the flight back to Ontario. We had a 12-hour travel day, got to Ottawa and played that night. There was a new TEE PEE at one airport, on green grass, under the hot sun, so I got to space out, and almost fall asleep there for a while. Beautiful. Those are the good moments.

Smitty got mad at his guitar sound and threw his pedals off the stage at this gig. Almost hit someone too. It was a TEX MEX place, looked like a big old grain silo and wild west building from the outside. The Audience, total capacity and on two different floor levels, so it was like playing two different gigs at the same time, which was a challenge for Ra. It was the BEST deli arrangement of the tour, and we all cowed-down before hitting the stage.

I think this may have been the building where the entire band went into an elevator, and it went REALLY slow. So slow, in fact, that we got the sensation that it was not moving at all. After awhile I thought that we were trapped, and that the fun meter was dropping. Rather than panic, I cleared my mind, pictured the door opening, and after a while, IT DID! Thank god I was there to save the day!

We didn’t stop to eat all day, and some guys grabbed snacks at the airports, I guess. The audience was a full-out sensation, and the owner of the joint invited us all to lunch the next day. I obliged, snacking on chips and salsa with cilantro, and having beans and rice to go. I walked around a mall that morning as well, and called my Uncle Cleo, (my Godfather), and invited myself up to their family cottage on Sharbot Lake, an ultra-magical place I visited once when I was 15.

We had just got word of a confirmation for a gig up North, so rather than going home for 2 days as we were scheduled to do, we were to hang out in Kingston. I got to take the opportunity to visit some family (Sharbot Lake is close to Kingston) and use their AWESOME place!

W4 Saint JOHN NB

Early morning leave (5am). Drove towards the most spectacular lightning storm I have ever seen, going into Toronto. Flash flash flash. I was tired enough to forget my festive multi-coloured flag hat in the van when we dropped if off at BUDGET, (I don’t think that it was left in the van, ‘cos Smitty did a dummy check) and Ra was awake enough to retrieve his cell phone.

I had all my leftover rice, corn and tofu that went missing on one smaller connecting flight, no doubt mucking up their baggage compartment. I had a cheese bomb (2 plastic cups full of backstage deli cheese) fall out of my bag earlier this summer, and I bet that plane’s baggage compartment smells cheesy by now as well.

A nice lady woke me up on the plane. I was out cold with my mouth hanging open while everyone was leaving.

By the time we got a new van, (small crampy one) I put an open can of Orange pop in my shoe and spilt the whole thing. Not a drop on the floor of the van, but my shoe FULL of orange pop. I didn’t know my shoes were so watertight. I read my music trivia card questions, and Ra got almost every answer right. Unbelievable. He must have the same set of cards that he studies when I am not looking.

In truth, Ra knows more about music, and music trivia, than anyone I have ever met.

Everyone, especially Frankie, loves Saint John NB. The hotel pool was a bit chilly for me, and I am so spoilt with ocean and river swimming, that I snobbed-out on that, and went for a jog. I stopped to talk to a bible guy who gave me a pamphlet explaining exactly where the bible came from, you know, all the editions over the centuries. Neat.

Stoby’s Birthday, I found a fluffy plant, walked to the grocery store, got all excited about bland sushi, watched the thick fog fly around outside the 5^th floor hotel room porch, and had a 7-hour marathon discussion about spiritual stuff with Scott, and how it affects life.

(Scott later showed me how to roll sushi at a birthday party. He is the KING of sushi rolls, the best anyone has ever had.)

The gig was really wild. It took a while to get my sound together onstage because the monitor guy was riding my faders up and down randomly, until I asked him to leave them alone. This was a big outdoor tent on the waterfront. I had jogged by the day before and asked a lady at the information booth what was up, and she told me about the Ukrainian dancing that evening, and that it was $30 a ticket and no there was no food. She didn’t know anything about us playing the next day, so I was amazed when the thing sold out. The crowd was mild for the first half of the show, until a gigantic wave of 20-year–olds swarmed the place and went INSANE at the front of the stage. The guys from April Wine were on the side of the stage watching this, and getting quite a kick out of it, knowing that they were on next. I did my best, and most concise keyboard solo ever, and the crowd spazzed along with the whole thing, in time, catching every change of groove as I floated the music along. That is the best fun!

There was a wall of fans alongside a white fence who could see onto the stage, and they were a lot of fun to talk to and hype out with. Eventually, some manager demanded that the security people put up some tarp flaps so that those people couldn’t see anymore of the gig, which was kinda sad. There were easily 4000 people in the crowd, and no tickets left for these people, and they were all really nice. Shouda left the tarps down so they could see the rest of the show.

We got to hang out with (concert promoter) Jack Livingston, and some of his family members at the highway camper that was set up backstage. Jack put together the sold-out Nazareth tour earlier in the summer, and he also had hosted a party at his house when we arrived this time, complete with our full rider and tons of snacks. I didn’t go, but I heard that it was total wildness all night.

I did get to see Jack’s house the next day; 5 acres up on a hill over the ocean in the neighborhood where all the doctors live. Great place with big old beams, a pool, funky antiques, grand piano with sticky keys and tons of kids running around. It is a happy home. A big truck arrived full of CHER tickets for Halifax when we were there.

His son, Mathew, took Smitty, Stobey and I out on a boating trip in the warm afternoon. It was a new fast boat, like a big smooth car, and I got to drive it, and swim around for awhile in the warm wide river. There were no other boaters out, the scenery, covered New Brunswick bridges, and tiny Islands were a dream. It was my favourite boat ride of the summer (so far).

Ra ended up at some club with the April Wine singer (Myles) singing all night together, I bought some bland peanut butter; everyone had fun.

T5 SYDNEY NS

We drove up to Sydney (670 kms). We stopped at some toll booth place to use the can at one point, and I thought it would be a decent gag to just leave a tap running to freak out Frankie who was in line for the can after me. To my amazement, the taps had terrific water pressure, and without even turning them up full there was water flying everywhere, as it bounced off of the sink bowl. Frankie opened the door yelled ‘DUDE! WHAT’S GOING ON!” So I ran away, he tried to turn the taps off and they were wired backwards so they went even stronger, and the bathroom flooded.

Frankie has tried this a few times since, and the next guy to use the can ALWAYS freaks out!

When we arrived at the excellent hotel, I jogged the waterfront, as I so love to do. There were people everywhere, and some really funny old buskers with electric keyboards playing accordion sounds while other old dudes sang quaint old country songs. I did a meditation on the boardwalk for a while, ran around for a while and really enjoyed the place.

The first time I ever went to this town, about 15 years ago, the boardwalk didn’t exist, and now it is extensive, and I see a huge new tourist information and activity center being built as well. That is down by the fenced-off area where the big outdoor stage was set up for the summer concerts.

We played this Rockin’ the Dock gig last year as well, and recalled how there were millions of people backstage, how we got rider raided, and how someone had gone through my bag and taken stuff as well. So we mentioned that to a security guy. We had no problems whatsoever this time. The crowd was big, spread out all over the place and less wild than any big crowd we had seen all year. I think they had too much sun that day, having been there for many hours listening to many acts (including Carl Dixon, from Coney Hatch / April Wine, who did a solo gig and hung out with us backstage.)

I was totally happy too hear that Wade (Rita McNeil’s son and manager) was selling merch, so I met him and chatted for quite a while, and made friends with him. He is really nice, sincere and humble about his family’s success. Ironically, the same day, I got an Email from Rita, thanking me for the fan letter I had sent to her regarding her appearance on The Trailer Park Boys. Funny funny show. I have seen every episode.

Wade is going to get me passes for Rita’s Nanaimo show (in case I don’t feel like just walking into that one for free, cos nobody checks tickets there!)

(HEY as I reread this, just before posting it, Mr. Chris’ girlfriend just walked in and told us that they just got BUSTED walking into the theatre for free to see a sold-out GREAT BIG SEA gig.) HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!!!! They got escorted out by the “snotty cow” and the “shark lady.” HA HA HA HA HA HA !!!!!!!!!!!!

The next day we met Tom Cochrane’s band in the hotel lobby (the guys from the Red Rider Band in the early ‘80s). We all hyped about the West Coast, and I complimented the guitar player (Kenny Greer) about an excellent gig he did in Nanaimo with Gowan. I met Gowan at a gig a few years ago and really liked him.

F6 HALIFAX NS

So we drove onto Halifax, and the first thing I did when we got to the Cidadel Hotel was to ask one of the young Kilt-wearing doorman about the TV show The Trailer Park Boys, that I have grown so fond of. Boy! Did I ask the right guy! He gave me a map of Halifax and Dartmouth and circled where every season and significant scene was shot. He also showed me where a set of trailers had been constructed in Coal Harbour, where the shooting is happening for the next season.

I went for a walk of the Historic Halifax Harbour, swarmed with the thousands of tourists, listened to an electronic dulcimer guy, gave quarters to a few poor people, thought about having something to eat, but with all due respect to this city that I love so much, the harbour didn’t smell like something that I wanted to associate with food. I thought about catching a ferry to Dartmouth and a bus to the town of Coal Harbour to see the Trailer Park site. Somehow I just didn’t have the right feeling about it, so I let a few hours pass, went to the hotel and off to the gig, about one parking lot away.

The gig was not as wild as I had anticipated, (although I did see the big haired dude from my old band THE BROKEN TOYS, who was getting married the next day).

left to right:
BASS Dave Kilner (lives in LA, gigs with Lisa Marie Presley) ME, Steve the buzzard McCall (just married in Halifax,) SINGER Gary Gillespie, DRUMMER Aaron Anderson, (ex-Trooper.)

Anyway, The Trailer Park Boys were all guest listed from my earlier EMAIL to their site, and they didn’t show, which was strange because our venue is their regular hang-out, or so I am told. Next time we are playing in Halifax, the kilt-wearing doorman that I met will get the communication together so these cats know for sure that they are all invited, because I doubt if they really did know about this show, somehow. I was told that their EMAILS take a couple of MONTHS to get to them.

Ra, Scott and I went to pizza corner after the gig, Ra bought HUGE vegi slices for everyone and I was still bloated the next day. I drove, and we had a ton of laughs with the dozens of people on the street. The next day, I borrowed the band van at 9am, phoned Craig (Merch guy) and drove over the bridge to Dartmouth, into Coal Harbour, to see the Trailer Park Boy’s Set.

We went up to the lake that was circled on the map and saw some Trailers up on a hill, beside a locked gate with about 5 different NO ENTRY signs. After a while security guy showed up, we chatted and had a great time. Apparently, no one is allowed on the set at all when they are taping, unless you are “a politician or a rock star” and I am sworn to secrecy here about what I may or may not have seen, although I do not know any secrets, really. The cast sent a signed post card to Tracy at home, which was my surprise for her.

S 31 WOOD MOUNTAIN SK

This time, I walked onto the ferry and caught 3 buses through Vancouver to the airport. I met a Native family from Duncan on their way to the PNE, and a rock drummer going to Montreal. Good chatter, everyone happy. It was one of those great trips where I just walk onto every bus with no waiting. Magic.

S31 Wood Mountain Sask, again,

I slept the entire flight.

As a local big dude told me, “you will never be in a better place than Wood Mountain.” I didn’t see a whole lot of it, unfortunately, because it really was a friendly place, but nighttime. Outdoors, good crowd, beer gardens in a huge barn, great vocal opening act. Great summer outdoor gig. I recall that I got the crowd to hold up a big wooden salad bowl for Frankie to play during his drum solo, and one girl grabbed it and held it down so it just disappeared into the crowd, affectively killing the moment. She brought the bowl to the T-Shirt booth later to be signed and I very kindly explained to her how those moments in rock and roll usually play out. (hold it up so that the drummer can play it!)

Full-hook-up trailer for a backstage room, tons of people in a compound with all good stuff to say, calling everyone by name. This time, we are out for a few weeks. So, from deep camping mode to road mode, here we go…….

S1 PORT COLBORNE Ontario

—ROAD PHOTOS BY SMITTY

Canal Days The trip is, with this town, is that it sits beside Lake Erie, alongside of a canal that links to Lake Ontario. On the drive to the gig, we had to stop while a HUGE freighter passed, until the bridge was let down again. This was the show where we stopped half way through and the city blasted off their fireworks. The outdoor crowd was huge and fun. There were 2 senior ladies, 79 and 81 years old, rocking out, right next to 14 year olds. Wild. Ra asked them their secret.

“FAKE YOUNG” was the answer.

I brought pop out for the security guys.

(as I write this, we are driving into New Brunswick, talking about the Bar-B-Que at the hotel at Wasaga beach (Ontario) where the golfing tournament guy died. Turned purple, bloated, freaked me out. Ruined our Bar-B-que.) It also looks like we are staying out a little bit later on this tour, as a gig in Northern Quebec just got booked, so we aint’ goin’ home for awhile yet, folks. The gig is way up by BAFFIN ISLAND and

we have to be flown up. We wanna know what kinda plane we are talking about here.)

We listened to the Wayne Dyer lecture CD in the van. Very cool. Don’t know if Smitty is diggin’ it. A few days later, Wayne Dyer was on PBS, so we watched that as well.

Day off in Colborne. I walked for hours to a grocery store; just a general space walk. Really hot out, nice along the scenic canal. Frankie and Craig went to Niagara Falls and took in all the boat rides, even the one that goes behind the falls. These guys are serious tourists! Craig (T-Shirt guy) wants to set up a website based on our travels, with video footage that he takes. I like the idea.

I just walked around. I saw an old Eastern European guy who had wiped out on his bike, all bloody on the road, with locals stopping traffic and trying to save him. Nothing I could do but get in the way, so I moved on, giving a silent blessing.

Scott and I had a kitchen in our hotel suite, so I cooked rice, corn and nice tofu. Mike joined us for dinner and Scott added a pasta.

It was around this point where I realized that I had lost my wonderful white tilly hat backstage at one of the gigs. It is the one with all the multi-coloured ribbons (from a gig in Newfoundland years ago) that I have been wearing for years. If anyone finds it, please EMAIL me so we can work something out, please.