July 13th, 2005    Brampton, ON    Hype
July 14th, 2005    Cornwall, ON    Lamoureux Park
July 16th, 2005    Hearst, ON    Hearst Moose Festival
July 17th, 2005    Thunder Bay, ON    Port Arthur Provista

So I get to swim in a great variety of hotel pools, some late-night after the gig when nobody is around, run on tread mills, and draw funny pictures in tiny comic books for gifts to Tracy back home. I made comic books for some close friends as well, including the one with a fantastic shower scene from the all-women’s rugby team. I met a decent couple in a hotel lobby who ended up at several of our shows, and Ra got some kids up onstage to play drums. All-out loving audiences. A terribly popular French Canadian band from the ’70s opened the show at one arena, and the main guy was unbelievably rude to our crew. Pompous; I heard all about it backstage before the sweet-mother-of-the -earth lady filled the stinky hockey change room with delicious home made food. There was a shower cap on one dish, which Ra thought was funny. We had discussed (in the van) a few years ago if shower caps make good leftover lids.

All the drives were between 300 and 600kms, and one featured a 4-hour traffic near-standstill. Gave me plenty of time to draw cartoons. It was all caused by people slowing down to see an accident. This one was quite spectacular and gruesome, as it appears that a big boat fell off of a trailer and crushed a car. Almost made us late for the gig. I still think about that crash scene.

The town of Timmins has a nice billboard of local Shania Twain as soon as you get there, and absolutely no soy products in the grocery store. I have been tracing the spread of tofu hot dogs across this great land of ours, and very few big grocery stores snub the movement toward bean dogs, in this point of history. We drove through a town called MOONBEAM, and Scott removed himself from his crazy spiritual manual to take a look at store signs that would verify the name of the town. Great name, hey!?!?!?!? A semi truck dumped boxes of tomatoes on the highway, and I marveled at the wonderful lakes, the true beauty of Northern Ontario in the summer.

July 18th, 2005 Fort Hope, ON Joseph Jacob Nate Memorial Arena

Native reserves always take the most space on my note pages, cos they are sooooo interesting. We took another small plane up North, landed on a runway that sometimes has kids running all over it, and, as I wrote here: “husky who goes to meet her mother”, whatever that means. Here we are at Eabamet Lake, at Eabametoong, a shortened version of a town with a very long name. The first thing I noticed (besides the swarms of back flies) is that my name, Gogo, translates to GRANDMA in Ojibway. Funny at first, but after a couple of days, enough of GRANDMA, please. Got a hell of a lot of laughs, I tell you. Smitty on the other hand enjoyed the word CHOOMISH, being a true Grandpa at this point in his life.

Alex, our host, set Ra and Smitty into rooms upstairs in a decent house and offered to take me on a tour of the village. Scott crashed out on a bare mattress and tried to eat some sardines that he had brought for the trip. I accepted Alex’s offer and videoed some great scenes of kids in the back of pickup trucks, swarms of flies, wild depressing graffiti, and I stood around chatting with about 100 locals at the band office. At first I felt a bit out-of-place, until I realized that it was a big pancake breakfast. I was the only white boy there, and I didn’t know what everyone else was doing there. Everyone was really nice to me. Alex drove around and gathered towels and sleeping bags from a few homes, and showed me a wonderfully run-down house where Frankie and I could stay. We figured that it would be a much better house for the crew to enjoy, being that it had 3 bedrooms!!!!!!!! Frankie and I were shown a suite on the end of 3 houses stuck together across the dirt road, with DONUT ENTER written on one of the 3 doors that enters the seriously sparsely furnished pad. I had brought some toilet paper, and some towels to use as pillows, unrolled the fresh sleeping bag and cheerfully set up my comic book studio on the desk.

I do not in any way want to appear ungrateful of the hospitality here, but I must relate that these remote communities cannot offer our regular standard for fine accommodation. The crew figured out how to get their hot water working, and our place was so haunted that you could make a fascinating documentary right there. Again, I am being respectful here. After this tour, I came home and told stories of this magical place, and I felt that a spirit had followed me home, and had quite disapproved of the way I was telling the story, so I am NOT mocking here, OK? Tracy, Olena, and Dodie and I all held hands around the kitchen table at home to wish the spirit away. I do not want to disturb spirits and cause grief in my, or anyone else’s life. OK?

You know there are TV shows about haunted places, and everyone always looks at old English villages, cos I guess TV documentary producers figure the public only wants to hear about English ghosts. Well, attention all paranormal enthusiasts: buy a bear-skin airlines ticket up North if you wanna hang out with sprits. My personal spiritual journey is a search for the connection to the central mass intelligence of the universe, also known as GOD, rather than an attempt to unveil any particular spirit or being. I don’t think that I am any closer to the spirit world than anyone else. Anyone could have slept in this room and had a hard time with all the noise. Doors slammed all night. LOUD footsteps outside the door. Good luck sleeping.

So Alex (an Ontario Police officer) and I listen to FOOTLOOSE on the radio and some more Ojibway chatter (Smitty does the best impersonation of these radio stations, adding bits about the canoes have arrived………..), saw the reversing of the river flow, was presented with the Eabametoong flag for the Protection Island poles, got a bug bite in my ear, hung around with a kid who had been up for 3 days singing and dancing at the pow-wow. It was arranged that Smitty and I could go for a boat ride. This was a celebration commemorating the 100th(?) anniversary of some type of European communication, and there were great flags and canoes in the lake (looks amazing on my home movie) and we motor-boated to a little island where people were walking around an old graveyard. “That is where I am going,” said our host, pointing at a grave, and we visited 2 derelict churches, no windows, no doors, open to the wind, carved alter falling apart, painted ceiling falling down. I have never seen such a funky old little dead wooden church. My Mom is a Roman Catholic church organist, and I have seen A LOT of churches, but nothing quite this spooky. The only other white folks around were 2 seriously 16th century-long Hutterites with scarves on their heads.

So I decide to go for a swim. My home movie has a couple funny shots where I put the camera on the ground, drop my drawers, and jump into a lake. “What are you doing?” asks our host.” I tell him I am going to swim, so I will be alone for a bit and catch up to him in a few minutes. “You might not want to”, he suggests. “Leaches. Big long ones like string, and when they get in there they really start going.”

Ok. No swim today.

We played 2 shows at the arena in the constant company of the local natives, experienced almost every possible weather formation from hot to stormy, walked back to the little red houses all stuck together and had to turn a light on to use the washroom at night, cos I actually got a bit unnerved. The presence in the house was way too strong. There were doors slamming all night and loud footsteps stomping outside my bedroom door. This went on ALL NIGHT. In the morning, not having discussed this with Frankie at all, he said “Ya I had a shitty sleep. This place is so haunted it’s ridiculous.” That morning, I sat alone on the bare couch in the living room, and some local (real live) guy just walks into the room, no knock, just “OH, you’re still here?” as I wait for Alex to take us back to the airport. The guy in the house is quiet, we both just listen to all the kitchen cupboards rattling. “Oh, the phantom’s trying to get in, ay!” he says. Again, I am NOT being disrespectful, OK? Seriously.

Alex, my friend, arrives with the truck, I thank him for being a great host and storyteller, and for single-handedly taking care of us, and off to the gravel runway we go, me with video camera in hand “HEY GRANDMA,” people yell at me, again, Frankie walking into the outhouse, FUK U spray painted on the wall beside the chain-link fence. Total vibe.

A few hours later, in a different town, I am listening to country music WAY too loud in the can at a Tim Hortons in the nearest city. Ever stop at Tim Hortons? See all the people in line, see that there are about 2 urinals and one toilet for all of them? I don’t get it.

July 21st, 2005 London, ON Harris Park – Rock the Park

Was this the ZZ TOP gig? Please Lord, don’t make me write an epic. Tracy’s dad being a grand old greaser, loves ZZ TOP, and anything rock and roll, and doubly so if they have hot rod cars in their promo shots, so he asks if I can bring him a t-shirt or anything signed. Well, I failed, cos unlike any other group we have ever played with, the ZZ TOP security was impenetrable. Their road manager, a cool Mexican-looking guy, friendly as any guy you would want to meet, simply doesn’t do autographs, and the chain of people I talked to led me to placing my stuff to be signed next to some other stuff that never got signed. The ZZ TOP guys themselves were all on their own separate campers, beside the convoy of tour buses, and the bass player (he’s really short!) didn’t go anywhere without the road manager accompanying him. In fact, the area had to be cleared when any ZZ TOP guy left his trailer, and I saw the singer from Bad Company get pushed aside, when all he was trying to do was go into the porta potti.

It got to the point where you had the Trooper guys, Randy Bachman and his band, and the Bad Company guys all standing around, looking towards the ZZ TOP trailers, and all being asked to stand back. BTO toured with ZZ TOP years ago, so I am told, and I thought Randy Bachman may be a bit more ‘in there’, like he was at the Neil Young gig last year, but this was something quite different indeed. He stood outside the convoy of campers like everyone else who had backstage passes and was interested in seeing the ZZ Top people when they are not on TV. Speaking of which, my video camera was strictly forbidden on site, ANYWHERE on site, and after the road manager let me know that, I didn’t DARE even think about taking any pictures after he told me so!

GOD it was hot that day. We had gigantic technical problems on stage like you have never seen, and managed to get the massive outdoor festival crowd going without perspiring to death, until Randy Bachman and his band of Vancouver musos hit the stage, and I hit the catering tent. The Bachman guys are all our great friends, and we spent some great time hanging out, but I will be super honest with my personal opinion and say that I was not delighted with the renditions of some of the songs I love so dearly.

Bachman himself didn’t hang out a whole lot, commenting briefly to Smitty about how dark it was at night by the trailers. The Bad Company singer and his band of American rock dudes were up next; amazing great singer, swore at the crowd a lot, and got a bit nasty verbally, cos I think someone threw a bottle of pee on the stage (this was a full-out huge outdoor summer crowd in a big city). We Trooper cats walked across the huge field, down a walkway with the crowd on both sides, slapped hands the whole way, waved at the big elevated platform with the wheelchair people, signed stuff, walked back, and at that point my status as a celebrity seemed to diminish by the minute, along with every other musician that played that stage that day.

By the time the ZZ TOP people arrived, I just stood back and gave space as their military precision crew, all with hard hats, snapped the stage together. I watched the long-bearded masters leave their trailer, hats and sunglasses, MTV video-famous jackets, walk to the stage, stop, have their in-ear monitors put on for them, and walk up to face the crowd mashed against a really strong metal barricade. I saw Scott perched under the barricade, joined by Frankie, and then me, and we squatted there right up front with the full ultra-Vegas splendour of ZZ Top right there! Billy Gibbons ring, silver shiny curtain, light props, loud HUGE HUGE HUGE sound, backing tracks, until the road manager pointed at us and motioned for us to get the heck out of there. I guess It was an insurance risk. If the barricade had been pushed forward or collapsed, we would have been crushed, I guess.

So I walked around the festival site and listened to what a $100 000 show sounds like (HUGE). Ra was totally inspired, Smitty loved the guitar player and wanted to get a big ring as well. Everyone stayed until the end, and I stuck around, cos it wasn’t long to walk to the hotel, and I was still quite fascinated by the grand scale of the spectacle. I saw about 30 pizzas arrive, was banned from the catering area as it became a place for about 150 contest winners to meet the band. Billy Gibbons, still in hat and glasses, and what looked to me like really fine Pajamas, and the bass player, with time sunglasses and ball cap, and the drummer, with the road manager entered the catering area and Billy Gibbons put his hands in the air to get a rise out of the portly moustache-wearing people. I stood back, watched to see if my stuff got signed, and after about 1/4 of the people were greeted, ZZ retreated, and I followed about 10 security guys out the back gate and walked the streets back to the Armory fortress hotel thinking about how bizarre and diverse the last few days have been, (and coming up with new ideas for comic books.)

I was the only guy in Trooper who wasn’t totally inspired by the ZZ TOP thing, and I didn’t say so at the time, cos what does it matter? I liked it, a lot, but have seen that stuff soooooo much on MTV, and I am not quite so nostalgic for the ’80s, and that is my association. I have never searched out and pursued that music. It was always THERE at every night club gig I ever did in the ’80s. Not music that I ever CHOSE to listen to. Ra and Smitty have a far deeper appreciation, as does Scott as well, and I was happy to see them so happy, you know. Don’t get me wrong. It was an $80 ticket, or whatever, and I loved the inside look at the thing, and the Bad Company guys were wonderful dining partners, and I had a great time. Great experience.

Scott slept the the next day, and I got up early and went into the hotel hallway, sat by a huge window overlooking the city and drew my cartoons. I guess the chamber maid wondered what the fak and called security, so a nice guy came up and chatted about ZZ TOP saying, “You didn’t meet them? They were here all week. There were everywhere I looked.” As I write this, I remember that Tracy’s dad still hasn’t heard these stories.

July 22nd, 2005 Fergus, ON Fergus Truck Show

I LOVE the Fergus truck show!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I love any auto show and attend hot rod and classic car shows whenever I can. I am planning on putting our wild quad bicycle and some mustang bikes into local shows this year, in fact, as well as the parades. So do you think I would dig a gig that has hundreds of the continent’s finest semi trucks on display! WOW!!!!!!!!!! Cool!

When we drove near the festival site, there were trucks for mile on the roads. You have never seen so many trucks. Frankie and I have a lot of bathroom humour and are still laughing about the possible deeper meanings of a truck show. My camera had a bad tape I guess, and was ejecting the tape, so I missed some good footage of great trucks. We got onsite, Scott didn’t want to leave the van and read his book, our soundman was mad, and I saw some big new shiny trucks. I talked to a promoter who told me about million dollar paint jobs, about THE BEAST and told me that if we showed up a bit early for the show, he could tour us around a bit. I had no problem convincing the band of this, so we hit the hotel, came back, met with my guests Derrick and his family and Paul, and we all sat in the back of a pick up truck and toured a bit the site. I really enjoy this. There was nowhere near enough time to see the whole million or so acres of trucks, or THE BEAST, and the promoter rattles off some statistics that I felt that I really should be writing down, if I wasn’t fiddling with my expensive and problematic video camera the whole time. We were told exactly how much booze was consumed per hour, how much money spent, how many acres of truck….every statistic except for what Frankie and I speculated on, which is how much waste is removed from the site.

I didn’t mention that when we first hit the site, the band DRY COUNTRY was playing some of the coolest country rock I have heard. I don’t know if it was just the perfect setting for this, or what, but I got the best Southern Rock musical experience walking into that crowd. Great guys in the band, had laughs a plenty backstage, stunned them by politely refusing a beer, and I tried to provide a website link here, but all I am finding is BON JOVI tribute pages, for whatever reason. I will look at the CD they gave me for a website address……………..here it is www.drycountryband.com….shite, doesn’t work………..drag……nice guys, great band……..

July 23rd, 2005 Mattawa, ON Voyageur Days 420km drive
July 23rd, 2005 Kirkland Lake, ON Community Complex

YA! 2 shows in one day! Beautiful part of the country. Nice drives, wonderful moment of downtime at a motel before the Mattawa gig. Great community, streets full of festival people. Motel owners gave us a day room for free (community spirit) and showed me their mint Bricklin sports car. I ate a can of tuna, band guys sat in the sun and talked on the phone, had showers, I didn’t unravel my recording machine as I had been doing every other day. I spent a lot of the summer with headphones on, mixing and editing music.

We drove down the people-lined street towards the outdoor stage, and I got out early cos I saw a van all covered in flags. I bought a full-size US flag with a peace sign where the stars normally go. Everyone I show it to loves it. It is TOTALLY out of an early ’70s MAD magazine. The band MOXY was playing, and I knew that it was something special. Sounded wild! Great! I met Greg Goddovich, or however spelt, from the band GODDO, really nice guy, other great band people, toured the museum backstage, left a funny note on a paper plate for Chilliwack, who were to be there the next day. Smitty wrote outrageous stuff on the note, and Ra got a bit mad at him. I think they were having a rare moment, dunno. Smitty plugged in a kettle or something in the dank basement and made an electrical stench. Our soundman wasn’t happy, and I couldn’t imagine NOT having a great time. I felt that we owned the place, and I played the show smiling away, videotaping people and zooming up on the 3 huge wooden crosses up on the mountainside above the lake. I made my 16th mini comic book, and the brand new monitor board that we carry around fell over on its face (knob side down….) Off to Kirkland Lake arena to do it all again, buzzed out on life……………

445 km Drive to Toronto airport, going as fast as we can in the van, phoning ahead to arrange check in, Dave intercepting rental return van, getting shuttled into a special airport room full of computers and band promo shots. Special room for late bands. Somehow, we made the plane……………..rush to catch the ferry, 3 cups of orange tea…………time for the camping trips that I blabbled about at the beginning of this report. Who wouldn’t love the Gulf Islands of British Columbia……………..rumour has it big-time USA government people are buying big homes in my area as a safe place to be, or run to. Everyone is copying me.

peace + love, to be continued:

love gogo

ARGUING WITH RA…..

My advice to anyone wishing to argue with Ra : don’t.

I took him on a few times in the van when I first joined the group. Issues that I really don’t know too much about, and stuff that doesn’t really even effect me. Native issues and stuff. Ra will nail you on this stuff. He will let you speak your bit, counter, and then ask you details of stuff you had said early into your presentation, asking for context, and as you try to remember what you said, justify it, he is killing you with more points, until you can’t breathe. He is that good. So don’t even try.

These days Ra and I don’t talk much. We are too busy laughing. I love the guy.

where were we…………….

NORTHERN  BRITISH  COLUMBIA    !!!!!!

The big bus rolls along and everyone appears awestruck by the massive ocean inlet, and mountain/gravel road twisty up and around experience. It’s either that, or watch Spaceballs and share in some movie laughs.  Bill Henderson sat across from me, and we managed to do both, and discuss West Coast life. You gotta see this from my point of view. Bill is a guy at the top of his game, (singing and writing music) and I am genuinely interested in his perspective, and I get to go on a 2-day holiday with him, and his band. It is a fortunate and timely experience, similar to hanging out with the Nazareth singer, or Ra McGuire. It is really great to hear how these cats see the world.  They are icon songwriters to more than one single generation of fans, and certainly amongst the greatest singers on earth.

Crab fest! That is where we were all heading. Imagine fresh crabs from just below the Alaska panhandle. I joked with Bill Henderson about going for sushi when we got there, and all he could say was “CRAB!!!!”
Well, we were both right. The bus pulled into the rainy village, dropped Chilliwack off into the basement of the bed and breakfast (where Trooper stayed). Chilliwack changed guitar stings, got ready to play, and we all walked the muddy road to the town hall for a feast. A local had taken a culinary arts course, and created salads, crab, sushi, potatoes; it all rolled out. A room full of people in festive foodland.

Although a doctor would have recommended some sleep, I chose to walk around the village and listen to Chilliwack’s set. I watched some natives fishing in a river while Bill and Ed Henderson rocked out the twin guitar leads for TRIAL BY FIRE. Let’s face it, the town still looked like a reserve, meaning no manicured lawns. People from other towns claim that this is a very rich group of people, but you wouldn’t see a grand di$play of wealth.  I am not to judge, but I would say that this is about the most together reserve I have been to (I didn’t have to touch the food stash I had brought along with me, that is for sure). We lived inside a Northern Postcard for a couple of days.

I decided that an hour of sleep would be a good idea, and by the time I got near the bed and breakfast, I had a mob of kids behind me. I became the pied piper of fun, I guess. Everyone was offering to take me fishing and sight seeing. You have to love these people! I did get one hour of sleep. When I awoke, the ladies who ran the house had pies for us, and we gathered in the town square, where EVERYONE joined us (the place was jammed packed), our crew sorted out technical problems, we went onstage, and the band visited a neighbor’s living room during my keyboard solo.

I swear that every person there had a digital camera. I have never had so many pictures taken (per capita) ….my gig bag got locked in a room  backstage (where a window got kicked in)…the chief sent out a request to meet with us…..more digital pictures……the muddy streets FULL of people…..and it was 4am.!!!!!!!!!!! Like a mardi gras in this village. Do these people ever sleep? I walked back the few blocks to the Bed and Breakfast, looked at the pie, chatted with Ra about some ridiculous technical problem I had onstage (like he needs to hear THAT BS after a beautiful show!) had some cheese and crackers, had a few hours nap and woke up to the house full of people with plates and plates full of pancakes, eggs, bacon…back into the bus with Chilliwack and company, someone put in a live U2 DVD which got shouted down by band people who would enjoy a quiet moment (they were yelling and swearing, quite funny!) No stopping at the waterfall, we make the flight in Terrace, back to Vancouver, bye bye to Chilliwack, Scott, Dave and I split a cab to the ferry, and drive up to the Colleiry Dam park for an evening swim..SUMMER! HOME! YA! This time I have way too many stories to tell my friends, so we just hang out and make new laughs.

FEW DAYS OFF AT HOME!!!!!!!!

So we circumnavigate Newcastle Island Provincial Marine Park in the Zodiac and stop for a swim at Kanaka Bay, the best white sandy beach for miles around, and there is nobody there, cos the tiny clouds scare people away. I really have fun with different water qualities and smells of nature. You bet that the river smells and feels different than a lake, or ocean, and don’t be thinking that all lakes smell the same either. So again we stomped our baby new Protection Island lawn to death with a 30-person bar-b-que and sushi freak-out, rescued 2 vintage mustang bicycle frames from another collector, and caught the 7pm ferry with Scott and Dave so we could snooze at an airport hotel by midnight.
I sure have noticed a lot less BIG campers on the ferry with USA license plates this summer.
4:30 am  shuttle to Vancouver airport, fresh apples at hotel desk, onto Ontario, Toronto, drive to Smith Falls:

July 9th, 2005  Augusta, ON  Augusta Summer Jam  –360km drive

This is, of course, the chocolate capital of Canada, so as soon as I got checked into the hotel, I borrowed the van and drove straight to the Hershy factory. WOW could you smell the fresh chocolate in the air. I brought my video camera for this part of the tour, so I have some nice shots of the locked factory doors, and of the security guard with the huge handful of fresh (and dated) chocolate bars that he gave me for being such an enthusiast.

—-TIME OUT

Up until this point, you probably thought that I was a decent enough guy. You didn’t know how out-of-it and socially irresponsible I really am. Just took a break from typing this up (and music practicing, of course!) , drove to Ladysmith, up the Island highway, to buy 2 violins form an antique store (one looks and sounds like it just fell out of a haunted house!) I love it! So a cop pulls me over for a seatbelt check, and asks if I have insurance for the TOYOTA star car. I figure YA, and he asks if I would sit in the back of the cop car and talk to him. Ok, I am flabbergasted when he tells me that my insurance has run out in July (this is October) and says that he would have to tow the car and give me a fine. I DO realize that it is pretty irresponsible and dangerous to have no insurance, sure I don’t drive much, whatever, but I never noticed, and I guess it expired when I was on the road. The cop said that he missed the Duncan Trooper show, and that I can walk up the street to get insurance, so he doesn’t have to tow me, and then he showed me a book that had all the fines in it, from $800 to $109, so he gave me the cheaper one and said that I could save $25 if I pay it right away. Cheaper than the insurance would have cost. I probably shouldn’t tell this story, but it was an HONEST MISTAKE! OK!!!!!!!!!!

…………..back to the chocolate factory the next day after the Augusta gig…(a long drive down deserted country roads, Frankie performed a huge and explosive plastic bucket solo, speaking of dangerous, had some free chicken that was marinated for 3 days, had a different soundman, had an outdoor stage, had some huge plastic containers of veggies that I brought back to the hotel ‘fridge),had a great night ……I continued the home video with Scott, Dave and Craig, back to the HERSHY factory. This time, we toured the plant and bought (well, I did anyway) big heavy bags of a variety of almond bars, pieces (mini M and Ms) and junk that I must keep cool all summer if I want to bring all it home as gifts). So there I start the tour with a duffle bag HEAVY with chocolate. I don’t plan on the bag being lighter, and me heavier by the end of the tour, either!  I also walked around the Rideux locks with the video camera and started my home movie in a historical and boring touristy-narrated fashion.

Next up: two days off in Kinston Ontario during the greatest heat wave they have hosted in 100 years. The hotel we stayed at was quite a bit older than that. My goal was to borrow the van again and drive up to Sharbott Lake and stay with my cousins family at their lake-front cottage, (or retreat center, as I see it.) I invited all, and the same gang that accompanied me to the chocolate factory joined in on the fast boating adventure of Sharbott Lake. The first thing my cousin Billly said was, “Are you ready to go boating?” I brought the wild assortment of veggies from the last backstage deli scene; more than twice what we needed for the outdoor campfire stir-fry, and the lake water was actually warm, warmest lake I have ever swam in, in fact, so I probably spent more time in the water than out. I was assigned my own little cabin, but I didn’t check the window screen, and the mosquitoes drove me insane all night. Not normally like that at Sharbott Lake, but these things cycle, you know. The highlight of the trip, besides visiting family, was the traditional midnight 30mph sea-doo boat glide across the lake to see the stars at night, while listening to the loons. This is cottage country living at its finest!

The next day we drove back into Kingston and I walked around shopping, trying to find the frilly leather cowboy jacket that forever escapes me. Ridiculous trying on jackets in over 40o heat! We stopped into our favorite army surplus shop and I got into misty mountain pants, and some great red cotton hospital trousers. Perfect for the beach, or if you have to get institutionalized, you are already dressed for it. Dave got a great cowboy stage shirt for his drumming at MEGALICIOUS gigs, (which I poo-pooed and later reneged) and I found white and black tilly hats that I seem to think look like pirate hats. I also bought a ton of beautiful nectarines on sale.

The big day was to follow. I had phoned the HAWKINS CHEEZIE factory the previous day and enquired about factory tours. I was told that they don’t do that type of thing, so I continued the conversation with some Trooper talk, and we set a time when I could drop in and say hi. I was all alone on this pilgrimage to the holy land. My travel buddies were all junk-food-factoried-out, so I once again borrowed the van keys at 11 am, got a map and hit the highway. Up to Belleville to fulfill my lifetime dream. The trip to thee holy land!

The CHEEZIE factory is a long white building, about the size of a high school gym, smells a bit like cheese(!), has a typical old office with friendly people, (where they printed Trooper stuff for me to sign for their kids). I didn’t actually get to walk the factory floor. I could see inside when the doors opened, and there were people with net hats, crazy big machines and stacks of huge bags of what I think is cornmeal. A nice lady gave me the last CHEEZIES T-Shirt and hat that they had in stock, and I was presented with a box of 36 bags of FREAH cheezies, and to be honest, they tasted a whole lot like the ones you get off of a shelf, owing to the efficiency of their distribution.

I learned that this product is the ONLY snack food made with real cheese, so it is quite expensive to make, is only sold in Canada and generates about $20 million per year. Most of the staff is seasonal, cos they sell more in July than they do in January. Fascinating, and now I have a box of cheezies to stuff inside the duffle bag, to bring home to the good folks of Protection Island. I also learned that the word CHEEZIE is now in THE  dictionary, and that we can all be proud that our national snack food (my title) is run by some really fun and friendly people. I got some great video footage on that ungodly hot afternoon. The president, and son of the founder, Mr. Hawkins himself, was JUST in the office, I just missed him, so I left him a decent fan letter.

I jogged that night in the serious summer heat, past the great stone mansions of Kingston, Ra talked to a book publisher, Tracy-Lyn’s Grandmother died back home, and I figured that I would still be on the road during the funeral season. I really enjoyed our visits to Port Alberni to see Grandma Sask. Sad, but not unexpected, as these things can be. Four people also died in Ontario from the heat, and power consumption was at an all-time-high. I tried to talk Scott into turning the air conditioner OFF, cos I love those nights when it is too hot to sleep, but he is the ICE KING, and he overheats and can’t breath if it is anything less than freezing. Other than that, we are quite compatible room mates. He gets the air conditioner (ice furnace) and I get the TV. I NEVER watch TV at home, but on the road it is the only person who truly understands me.

July 1st, 2005    Grande Prairie, AB    Spilchen Country Fever Music Festival   420km

The small plane was totally full of our stage gear. Shuttle to hotel, nap, Scott had terrible nachos, the other guys had cream soups and fish and chips in a really boring restaurant. I always thought it funny to go to the prairies to have fish and chips (especially when you just left Halifax!). I remember being in the middle of  nowhere in particular and asking about getting to the festival, which was considerably far away, and it looking like I was not going to see (or hear) THE NITTY GRITTY DIRT BAND.  The afternoon got a bit boring, everyone doing their own thing. I jogged the sunny highway. Cowboy hats are everywhere. My fancy cowboy shirt and hat are not so unusual anymore. Big muddy trucks everywhere. The landscape has changes over that last day.

Finally, we get a shuttle to the gig, a big empty arena. I met a nice guy who was driving a stretch golf cart and chatted about Bathtub weekend (he knew his stuff) as I got a personal tour of the site ending up at the outdoor stage where I climbed the side of the stage to be with the others grooving to THE NITTY GRITTY DIRT BAND! Talk about perfect timing, and what a cooooool group. Violin! YAAAA! I met a couple of the guys afterwards and they were gracious. Great band, great sound.

One local suggested to me that we should expect about half of the crowd that I saw for the Dirt Band (about 1200). I had a nice little laugh to myself about that. I knew that people would fall from the sky. One other guy said “you look like John Denver.” Exactly the kinda thing that actually really bugs me, but for some reason didn’t this time. I am trying to be a little bit more like my hero Frank Ney, our ex-mayor, who was UNFLAPPABLE. Who cares if someone thinks I look like John Denver?

So I chatted up THE NITTY GRITTY DIRT BAND banjo player, super friendly grey bearded guy. Anyone who walks around with a grey beard playing banjo is alright by me. Took the big neat-o golf cart back to our arena venue, had some horrible sandwiches a cement room with 5 metal chairs. Horrible sandwiches. There was a door to the outside where nobody was, so you could take a pee there in private, I guess. It was a woodsy area, like a race track outside of a town.

The crowd arrived and the arena overflowed with people, and LIFE. The best crowd that you could ever want, except for the big buffoon who almost broke my fingers with a handshake. So I go onstage for the encore thinking, man, I have a whole tour to play and this guy almost puts me out of work. That is why I hand slap people so much. I don’t care if this sounds wimpy. This is my GIG, and my LIFE.

The sun never did go down, being quite North as we were, and everyone sang THE GIRL FROM EMPANITA or whatever the hell it is called. Frankie says that he always plays that at home in the kitchen when he is cooking. Back to the hotel, bit of a drive, 1 1/2 hours sleep, and I had no serious nap that day cos I was too excited to jog around, look at dirty trucks and figure out what songs THE NITTY GRITTY DIRT BAND plays.

So, 5am leave. My duffle bag is getting heavy, at least down all those stairs at that hour. Shuttle to airport, travel trip: bananas don’t last long in duffle bags in the summer. Good news from home; Tracy cut the lawn that we just planted 2 months ago on Protection Island. Didn’t know at this point that as soon as I get home we are going to have all the locals stomp it back to death. The section under the hammock doesn’t stand a chance. All the kids go CRAZY. Oh well…………..