I stop by Regina and pick up a key to the place I'm staying. John Dufourth is nicely putting me up after another bed fell through. There's a whole network of folkies across the country and it's always nice to meet more of them. John's house is lovely, but he wishes he could sell it - but based on the location, it's not worth enough - leaving him in a limbo state. But he's always willing to put up travelling musicians, and it's nice to join that cast of characters.

John gives me excellent directions to Moose Jaw - basically a straight line (with one sharp curve). Regina's lights slowly fade into the background and a heavy darkness falls over everything - no stars, no city, no nothing. And then suddenly, out of nowhere, Moose Jaw, with all it's inappropriately early, but beautiful, Christmas lights appears.

I'll admit I wasn't really looking forward to this show - I wanted to spend more time in Saskatoon or head out early to Medicine Hat to visit with my dad. But a gig is a gig, even if it's a Monday on a wintery night.

I finally find the bar (I've given up on maps and now just ask for directions). It's called Bobby's Place - an Irish pub with a cool tartan carpet across from the bus station and staffed by some really nice folks. We set up the sound system and I move in. They're worried about having enough people out, but I'm not - I'm still thinking about last night in Saskatoon and am imagining that I'll just be background music again.

But as the crowd comes in, I start to make some early friends. One woman is touring across the country as well, from California, doing a university tour to find a place to do her masters (see you in BC, Leslie!). She and her friend join me and we talk happilly. Others look at my postcards and ask questions about the map. Everyone seems genuinely happy to be there and excited about listening. Maybe it was the article in the Moose Jaw Times Herald - I was on the front page and a nice story about me was inside. I get a great homecooked dinner, including a plate of fresh veggies which are a welcome addition to my bizarre touring diet.

It's not a huge crowd, but I start anyway. I offer requests and do Radiohead, Dave Matthews, Neil Young, and Counting Crows. I take a break and sell CDs... to EVERYONE - holy! What a great crowd! Even people who have just arrived and haven't heard me yet, but have talked to others, buy a CD. How much do I love Moose Jaw?

I get encouraged several times by multiple people that I should seriously consider getting into country music.

During the break some new folks come in - 6 guys who are loud and clearly there for drinking (but who later turn out to be awesome folks who all buy CDs). I talk with them about being born in Saskatoon, but living in Toronto... They're not big fans of Toronto.



Lisa behind the bar turns out to be a pretty mean salesperson/shrinkwrap cutter... I probably owe her a commission for selling that many CDs...

One woman, Angie, wants me to improv a song - making it totally up on the spot - something I've thought about doing but haven't tried yet. I've done some improv classes at Second City, but am never sure how it'll translate into song. After a couple tunes, Angie starts yelling "improv! improv!" so I give it a whirl and come up with a pretty cool little song about driving out to Bobby's place (except that nothing rhymes with "tartan carpet"). The crowd loves it. I play "another time of year" with my standard intro ("can't remember which way I'm going and which way is home") and the 6 guys yell "Where's home? Toronto or Saskatchewan?" and I immediately say, "Moose Jaw" Later the whole crowd and I share a moment as Angie and her boyfriend BOTH visit the ladies room together... one way to keep warm during a snowstorm....

Finally, I convince the 6 guys to sing backup for Dear Aunty Emm which they do spectacularly, drunkenly well (you're all hired, guys!). On their final note, my guitar string breaks, and I finish with a bang.

I hang out for a while, sign more CDs (and a pair of overalls "To Jolene" - because apparently the owner of the overalls will be in trouble for being out drinking (and for forgetting for a moment how to spell "Jolene")), Leslie takes a picture of me with the guys. Then I pack up and head back to Regina, away from the Christmas lights and into the darkness.

Don't let anyone tell you different. Moose Jaw Rocks.

Oh - I almost forgot - on the way back, I pick up a hitchhiker - I don't know why I do this - I've been warned enough times. But it's below freezing and no one should be out in this weather. I don't remember the guy's name, but he's an indian story teller travelling out from BC - he's been hitching for days and occasionally sleeping in drainage pipes. He gives me advice on where to stay in Medicine Hat and I drop him at the Salvation Army in Regina. The whole way I questioned why I picked him up - but maybe it doesn't matter - I'm glad he got a warm place to stay. As a fellow story teller (who has even more reason to thank rent-a-wreck now) I wish him well.

I've got Springsteen in my head singing, "Son take a good look around... this is your hometown..."

Saskatoon. I left here 18 years ago and haven't returned since. I think about it often, but in a past life sort of way. I rush into town and barely see anything - the trip from Brandon took forever and I barely noticed when I crossed into Saskatchewan. I'm late and a bit frantic trying to find the place to play and where I'm staying. It doesn't help when I finally find the Spadina Freehouse and am told that they had no idea there was live music there tonight. I doublecheck my computer and am sure it's been scheduled. Tanya, the manager says she'll check with the booker, but nothing's on their calendar. In the meantime we setup the sound system - just in case. Once setup I check in with Lynn Hainsworth, one of my mom's old friends, who's putting me up for the night. She and a friend were going to come see the show, but the freehouse told her there wasn't any live music there tonight... sigh...

We still haven't heard from Crystal, the booker, but we decide I should just start to play. The Freehouse is nice, but it's a restaurant and I'm clearly background music. A nice couple at the bar clap after every song, and look incredulously at the rest of the place that assumes I'm just a radio. Don't get me wrong - I'm fine being background music - I'm getting paid and I get to practice my covers - but these nice folks seemed to think I deserved more and eventually succeeded in getting others to start clapping too.

I play for an hour and then break for dinner (a bison burger! mmmmm bison!). Tanya says that she talked to Crystal and that I may have been confused, that she wouldn't have booked it and that Crystal is very organized... but that they'll still pay me and that I'm doing a good job.

I'm tired and confused by being in my hometown and wondering if maybe I didn't book this gig after all... I go back to singing and play for another hour and a half. A girl asks if I know any Pearl Jam (I don't, but should) and a guy gives me a $20 tip (I give him a CD...).

Finally I wrap up and Tanya comes to apologize for Crystal (who later also apologizes by email). Apparently she missed one of my emails confirming... anyway, it's all good. I only sold 1 CD (sort of)... no one wants to buy CDs from a background music cover guy (although it's the same set that I play at shows when everyone wants a CD... wierd...).

I find Lynn's place and we have tea and talk for an hour or two. She's great and we get along really well - talking about our mutual lives in a ships in the night sort of way, drifting back and forth in conversation. She plays me some great local music and I get out my guitar and play her a tune. Finally, exhausted I head to bed.

The next day is disorienting to say the least. I'm off to explore my childhood [I left at 12 to live with my mom in Ottawa and haven't been back since]... it quickly becomes totally overwhelming. I feel like an amnesiac, just remembering glimpses of a life I lost. 18 years ago I saw things from a foot shorter, through the eys of a 12 year old. I pass corners and know I've been there... I pass parks and suddenly remember sack races, or fist fights, or lost loves... I burst into tears all of sudden, just overwhelmed by all these memories.

I get over it and keep going. I navigate by someone else's memories - connecting the dots of "there's that swimming pool" and "ohmygod I used to live there!" I hit intersections and have a strong feeling that "something" is to the right, so I head in that direction and find an old friend's house, or an old store that used to be an arcade I frequented.


I stop into Caswell, my old grade school. There's no one in the office, so I just wander around, explaining to the occasional teacher that I used to attend there years ago. I take a lot of pictures. Everything is intimately familiar, from the library to the boot scraping device outside. The smell of urine in the bathroom is intense but crazilly familiar (scent and memory are apparently tied together strongly... one of the reasons people go crazy when they lose their sense of smell). I take a picture to try to capture it and then wonder if a 30-year old man taking pictures in a grade-school boys washroom is appropriate. Outside in front of the school is a little girl learning how to slide down the bannister (where I learned years ago). I give her a tip and leave, sliding down the bannister and hoping I don't prompt her to fall on her head.

I keep travelling. It's amazing how strong the memories are - if you'd asked me in Toronto, I couldn't have told you half of these places. And I certainly never drove through Saskatoon by myself... and yet, I find my way across town completely moving from memory to memory and skittering from lane to lane as I suddenly see something familiar. I keep my camera on the whole time taking ridiculous photos through the windshield of intersections, burger kings, and banks that I remember. I'm frenetic in my appetite for more of these places and cover most of the town in 2-3 hours. I end up in an old comic shop, bought from the original owner by a guy my age who used to frequent it - he knows Kaare Andrews well - Kaare used to be in my school and now draws spider man. Apparently he lives in Vancouver - maybe I'll look him up.

Running late, I head back to Lynn's and frantically doublecheck with the club that the next gig is on (the Freehouse has made me paranoid). Lynn is amazing with tips and maps and helpful comments. I wish I had more time to hang out with her... and more time to explore this past life. Regrettfully, I head for Moose Jaw.

I found Brandon relatively easily - got there a bit early and spent some time try to make my dumb laptop connect to an internet cafe spot.

Finally I headed to the gig, set up by the Brandon Folk Music and Arts Society (BFMAS) - they run the Brandon Folk Festival (22 years old! Who knew?). Matt, the BFMAS artistic director was there, and so was Paul, the sound guy, but the bar was closed and the lights were off and I was a bit concerned. Still, we had some time so we hung out. Then Dan Frechette, the main act and one of Mitch Podalak's favourite performers (see last blog) showed up with some friends. When told we had to wait, he just said, "cool, let's jam", took out his guitar and started playing. Dan's an amazing guitar player - and really is the 2nd coming of Pete Seeger (physically and as an embodiment of folk music - maybe a bit less of the political, or maybe Dan just didn't get into it that night - he has written 1400 songs...).

I'm not much of a jammer - I'm a terrible soloist and am vaguely uncomfortable when Dan yells "guitar!" and I solo away pitifully. Luckily, the barstaff show up and we get to set up. Dan and I get to talking and I like him a lot - he's got a crazy edge to him, but in a sweetly curious way.

Matt has apologized for not bringing out more people, but this was still one of my favourite shows on the tour. The folks at SUDS (the bar) kept cheering after each of my songs and the audience seemed to like it a lot. My voice feels great (so nice to get back in front of a microphone in a room where people listen). I tell stories before every song and it becomes a nice songwriter session. I sell and sign a bunch of CDs in between the break and the bar offers me $300 and a hotel room to come back a play - nice! Best of all, Matt mentions getting me back for the folk festival.

Then Dan gets on. Later Dan will say that he feels bad that he didn't have the energy for a great show. HOLY. Dan Frechette's an amazing guitarist and songwriter - if you like folk music at all, you need to hear him. He's pretty incredible.

Afterwards, Stacy, the general manager for BFMAS, whose house I'm staying in, takes me out to a halloween party. It's in a huge house filled with a ton of fun people who I'm introduced to and then promptly forget their names. I remember Daisy though, a transgendered activist who's awesome and very nice to talk to. I talk to Stacy for a while. Then Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love, starts hitting on me drunkenly.

"You're VERY cute," she says.

"Ah,um, thank you..." I say, trying to switch topics, "soooo, do you live here?"

"No," she says, "but seeing you here, I wish I did... Do you know how you can tell I'm the goddess of love?" she asks...

"Um... noooo..."

"Because of my heart" and she points at a heart pendant she's wearing in the middle of a very low-cut dress. Stacy cuts in and introduces me as the guys who played tonight. Aphrodite wants me to play for her and offers to show me her breasts. I decide to head home.

The next morning, Stacy makes awesome oatmeal and sees me off. I'm not sure if I've conveyed it in this blog, but Brandon was a pretty great time - everyone I met (even Aphrodite) was friendly and fun - and playing with Dan Frechette was a treat. I hope to come back soon.

Winnipeg was a an adventure-filled town - a lot happened - so I'm going to try to tell the short story of reggae circus clowns, getting my car towed, a run in with "Dr. Hook", learning how to attack horses, going to court, and dressing up as Stephen Harper in the middle of the city.

Firstly, I need to apologize to Kenora for the last blog - Marion Childs nicely pointed out that it has some quite beautiful spots - and it's certainly unfair to judge a city on one street and one hotel. I'll have to come back some time and give it a fair chance.

You don't expect to see a major geographical difference between provinces when you drive from one to the other. I expected a sign of some sort, but instead the entire landscape changes when you pass into Manitoba. It takes a km or two, but suddenly the trees recede, the road splits in two and the hills, mountains, and canadian shield rock monuments are obliterated by open prairie and a 360 degree sky.

I was concerned that I'd remember the prairies badly - everyone tells stories of utter boredom and car trips that last forever - but I remembered spectacular clouds, rolling golden crop fields, and horizons that never end... and that's exactly what I got. The prairies are stunning.

Winnipeg was also stunning. With my last google map I made it to the centre of town, a nice square which houses a couple restaurants, a park, the King's Head pub, where I was playing that night, and the Winnipeg folk festival store - a very cool folk store that I could have spent hours in. Finding the club was great, but I needed to figure out where I was staying and had lost Ava and Mitch's number. In order to find it, I parked my car across fromt eh pub, had to find an internet cafe, and then make several phone calls on a phone card that was quickly dying. Finally figured out, I relaxed back at the cafe, did some blogging, and then headed back to the car to go drop my stuff off.

But when I got there, my car wasn't there. Where had it gone? I was sure I'd parked it, but I am occasionally forgetful (feel free to comment on that...). Losing your car, especially a particularly un-losable bright yellow rent-a-wreck bug, is distressing, but losing EVERYTHING YOU OWN that's in the car is REALLY @#$!%@ DISTRESSING!

A guy across the street must have sensed my distress. "At first I thought you were just crazy!" he said. "Yellow beetle?" I nodded. "Yeah, they towed it."

@#$!%@!!!

The bar helped me find the info for Dr. Hook's towing service and I walked the mile or two to pay the $72 dollars to retrieve my car. Apparently you can't park anywhere in Winnipeg between 3:30 and 5:30. That's not me just being bitter - I tested it - there are VERY few places to park at that time. Anyway, there was also a parking ticket of $50. Now I was making $100 that night playing, and before singing a single note, I was already $22 in the hole.

I went over to Ava and Mitch Podolak's and explained why I was late. Mitch & Ava are amazing, passionate, jewish, pothead Trotsky Communists with the willpower to change the world and a fierce appreciation of folk music (and in Ava's case, Mark Knopler). It's a joy and an adventure just listening to them. I arrived (again coincidentally I swear) just in time for dinner and was fed extremely well. Afterwards, Mitch offered a smoke and played banjo for me, while telling me about himself.

Mitch and Ava started the Winnipeg folk festival (as well as others) and have been seminal parts of the folk movement throughout Canada. They know everyone from old folkies like Pete Seeger and Utah Philips to newcomers Dan Frechette and juno-awarded The Duhks (their son Leonard plays banjo with them). I'm convinced that Mitch is the personal storehouse of the folk history of North America - small bits of which he imparted to me. Mitch asked me what kind of music I played and I told him, "it's a bit of folk, rock, and country, but I tend to think of it as Canadian music." "This," he said, "has been my plan all along." Mitch is responsible for growing all of the music that I grew up on - at his festival, I saw Blue Rodeo, Spirit of the West, and many many others who had a huge influence on me. I can't categorize them any better than "Canadian", and that seemed to make Mitch happy.

I left late and arrived barely on time for the show. RJ Binge opened up (www.myspace.com/rjbinge) - he plays bass in a bunch of local punk bands, and his influences show in his fast and dirty songs - but his guitar work is great and he was a lot of fun (especially the Boogers & Poo song...). Then I played, probably a bit harder and faster than I normally would, but an alright show, erring on the side of rockers over ballads. One girl in front told me I need to learn Hotel California because I sounded like the Eagles - so maybe I wasn't THAT punked up. I dedicated "Running the red lights" to the nice people at Dr. Hook's. Following me was Scott Hinkson (www.scotthinkson.com), who sang some very nice acoustic pop rock - including some very pretty ballads that made me wish I'd done more. His collection of pedals and guitars added to his cool tunes and made me reconsider my Line6 delay pedal again... He ended (and made me promise to blog about it... like I wouldn't!) with using a violin bow on an electric for the aptly named "bow song" - very, very cool.

The next day I woke up late and headed out to a meeting at Winnipeg's Aviva office. I've got a couple of these built in, to help with the time taken off from my dayjob, but it's odd to go from "rockstar at the bar till 2" to "collared shirt brand manager" the next morning. Anyway, it went fine. Next I found the parking authority to fight the ticket, or at least plead for a lower fine - which it turns out you can't do at the parking authority - you have to go to court... so to court I went. Unfortunately, there's no where within 50 miles of the court that you can park (okay, there is... but it was still a pain!). I finally got in, waited in line, plead "guilty with explanation", worried a bit about my explanation (ummm... I'm a dumb musician who doesn't read parking signs?), had to get rent-a-wreck to fax a "although we own the car, David can deal with this ticket himself" letter, and then finally got my day in court. Now, this isn't law&order, this is a cubical in the parking court, but still, the signs reading "you are in court" freaked me out a bit. I plead guilty again and explained that I was a poor musician from out of town and had been confused by where I was playing/staying - and I mentioned the $100 payment and the $22 in the hole... and the judge gave me a reprimand and tore up the ticket! Hooray! I fought the law and the law lost! Okay, Dr. Hook's still won, but still!

I puttered around town - made phone calls from pay phones, got gas, did laundry in a laundromat and then stopped off at Mitch's office, where he'd invited me earlier. It's hard to describe everything Mitch does, but part of it is being an agency for a bunch of artists, one of which, Dan Frechette, Mitch realized I was opening for in Brandon tomorrow (I knew I knew that name from somewhere). Mitch described Dan as the 2nd coming of Pete Seeger, which intimidated me to no end. I'm not sure who I'd be the 2nd coming of (possibly Elvis or Bowie based on my birthday?).

Mitch and I hung around and talked for a long time - he told me about peace protests he'd organized. He told me about MANY bloody, horribly fist fights he'd been in - most over politics. Once he punched someone through a newspaper right in the face (the guy and his friends had attacked Mitch and a friend for being communists earlier). He told me how he and some friends once built a makeshift catapult to throw rocks at nazis. And he told me how to take down police horses (apparently jabbing them in the ass with a picket sign is the wrong method... ball bearings are preferred).

Which is not to say that Mitch is a violent man. Just very, very passionate. He says that when he goes, it won't be in a hospital bed - it'll be wired up to a bunch of C3. Mitch is a hard guy not to like.

I have the night off, so we head out for Chinese food and then I'm dropped off at the West End Cultural Center - one of the best places to play in town, and a building that Mitch and Ava essentially built. Nathan, the booker from the night before, had invited me out to another show - a reggae halloween bash.

Inside, a great band was bashing away and the crowd was hopping.... and everyone was dressed as circus clowns. I wondered if perhaps, I was hallucinating. Maybe this was some weird dream where my freudian subconscious fear of looking foolish on stage manifested itself. But no... it was a ton of clowns playing and dancing to reggae music. And they were awesome - wish I cold remember their name. I hung out, smoked and drank with some guys from the night before (Dr. Rage & The Uppercuts) and then watched another band (JFK & The Conspirators). The Uppercuts and Nathan and I talked about the Toronto scene - they'd gotten screwed at the Horseshoe before (not literally) by a terrible soundguy. On behalf of TO, I apologized (something I start to do more and more in the prairies... I also start using the phrase, "but I'm originally from Saskatoon" more and more). I eventually headed home, walking a ways and freezing my ass off.

The next day, I woke up at 7am (the middle of the night) to go shopping with Mitch. He'd promised to show me the town and I've got to admit,you get a unique perspective on a town touring the meat markets (jewish & german), grocery stores, and bakeries. Mitch showed me signs of the early Winnipeg labour movement - rooftops with labour slogans on them - still there and still relevant.

Finally we head home, grab some breakfast, and head out to a demonstration to get Canadian troops out of Afghanistan. I'll be the first to admit that I don't know enough about this, but from what I've read and heard and discussed, the situation there has been made worse from when the Taliban were in power. We've become supporters of another corrupt government (U.S. or Afghany) and getting the troops out may be the start of the solution (feel free to discuss...).

We originally weren't going to walk the whole demo, but then Mitch met up with old friends and I got nabbed to dress up as Stephen Harper, complete with a bloody glove and walking with a Bush look-a-like. The only problem was that my mask was of a grinning blonde guy and Harper is (A) not blonde and (B) rarely grins... so many people were confused exactly who Bush was walking with. To try to stem the confusion, I was given a black furry hat to wear over the mask to act as Harper's hair. Instead, I think I looked vaguely russian and my hair kept falling off. I'm not sure what message we were sending, but it probably wasn't the right one...

Anyway, from behind a tiny slit in Stephen Harper's nose I got to see Winnipeg - which somehow seems appropriate for the end of my bizarre but wonderful visit.

Next up is Brandon, my gig with Dan Frechette, and a run-in with Aphrodite, goddess of love.

Kenora wasn't actually a gig - Cheryl at Shooter's (the bar at Lake of the Woods Hotel) told me that it was karaoke night and that the local karaoke-ers would get surly if I played during their night. But she nicely offered me a place to crash for free.

Getting to Kenora was long - the first day that I felt cooped up in the car. A long drive with the sun strobing through pine trees from the left straight into my eyes. I turn off the heat because the car is so warm and I remember that packed sunscreen... somewhere...

I've been looking forward to seeing deer along the side of the road, and have been scared of seeing moose (the moose signs started out every once in while with a moose image and a "night danger" sign... now they're every twenty feet and just have the moose image, as if the horde of mooses (meese? moose-i?) are slowly surrounding me. I keep imaging seeing phantom mooses in the boulders and trees along the road.

Unfortunately the first deer I see is dead. Without a Fort William around to re-use the roadkill as historical furs, animals are left for the birds. Fortunately, within an hour I see two pretty young deer at the side of the road eating. I'm happy to see them, but keep remembering the first one and wish I could warn them to stay clear.

Snow has shown up in the shadows of the trees, lying in the ditches where the sun can't reach it. I still haven't seen any falling from the skies, but it's clearly moving in, like the moose.

I wish I could say that Kenora was nice, but it was the sketchiest town I've been in so far. Auto shops and strip motels line what could be a pretty town... but I arrive while it's getting dark, so it's hard to tell. I've given up on google maps and navigate by following other cars, signs, and a bit of zen. Which works surprisingly well - especially for someone who's usually a bit of a control freak.

If Kenora is sketchy, then The Lake of the Woods hotel is its sketchy centre. I park across the street where a ton of young indian kids are hanging out. As a straight, white male it's unusual for me to be in a racial minority and I kind of savour the feeling - just like Harlem in NYC. I worry a bit about my fancy rent-a-wreck, then worry that I'm being racist, then realize I'm just being age-ist and optimistially head into the hotel. Inside, I find out from Betty's restaurant that the Lake of the Woods hotel is closed... ummm.... what? Then I find out that Shooter's is open - I head over there. Shooters is a loose collection of pool tables, hunting video games, a bar and a stage, but somehow avoids looking cohesive. The crowd does look like they could get surly - not that I was thinking of challenging them at karaoke - mostly I just want to go to sleep.

But the bartender doesn't know anything about me and "Tim" won't be in for a while - maybe an hour... maybe more. I go out to eat dinner at Subway (my one concession to trying not to eat fast food on the tour). After an hour I head back, but Tim still isn't there - the bartender thinks he'll be there at 10. I start to get a bit worried - what if Tim doesn't give me a bed? And who is Tim? Where's Cheryl?

Back to Shooter's at 10 and Tim STILL isn't there - what is going on!?

I head to a video game cafe to get on the internet. They close at 11 so I've only got about half an hour - but then realize that I've completely missed the time zone switch and it's only 9:30. The bartender at Shooter's must think I'm a complete moron...

I blog and email until after 11 - they let me stay late - then head back and the mythical Tim is finally there. And I have a room. Hallelujah. Karaoke has started and Tim invites me to join, but I am exhausted, so he leads me up to a scary scary hallway of rooms, one of which is mine. But it's got a sink and a rusty shower and a bed and that's all I need right now. I bring in all of my valuables and guitar and stuff just in case. Tim nicely sets up a TV and vcr for me and I stupidly watch Happy Gilmore until realizing that it's 2 in the morning and I should go to sleep...

The next morning, I wake up early and get the heck out of Kenora - stopping to take a picture of a bizarre sculpture of what my rent-a-wreck would look like with giant spider legs and a top hat... If the date hadn't changed, I'd chalk the whole thing up to a bad bizarre dream...

Next up is Winnipeg... and a day off!

[note: last night I got halfway through this blog and then clicked some button on the fancy mouse in the internet place which deleted everything... sigh....]

The road to Thunder Bay isn't as pretty as the one to Wawa - the tamarack trees recede and the fur trees get thin and sharp into ragged asparagus spears, grasping for footholds on rock outcrops. In between leafless trees provide a grey/purple colour that pales next to the colours from yesterday.

The snow from this morning melts quickly and the sun comes out. My winter fears are stored away for another day.

But the time goes quickly and soon I'm there, getting lost (a common theme to come for Thunder Bay), but eventually hitting Bruce and Marion's house. They're parents of my friend Heather and are lovely. I arrive just in time for dinner and am very well fed. I also meet Michael, Heather's brother, who is remarkably quiet, but very nice - I feel like a chatterbox next to him - maybe it's all the quiet from driving, but I feel the need to tell all my stories the minute I meet people... I'm offered either the couch in the living room of the "Iguana Room" - named after Susan the 3 foot long Iguana and former-pet of Heather. Susan sleeps above the bed and has apparently only fallen on it once, during an earthquake.... I choose to bunk with her, but move the pillows to the other side, in case of techtonic disturbances.

Then I head over to the Study, a bar/coffeehouse at Lakehead U. I hum "I wish I could go back to college" from Avenue Q as I pass the arcade and the hard-workin' students. I nicely kick some girls off my stage and set up. It's not fancy, but the sound system sounds great and the atmosphere, while plain, is pleasant and I kind of like being pretty background music for studying to. My voice feels fantastic - so nice after worrying about it last night - and everyone claps and listens with a calm interest that's charming and sweet. The nicely-kicked-off girls laugh at my jokes. I play for two hours, running the gamut of covers I know and finding some new ones that I'd forgotten about. Regardless of the small crowd, this is my favourite show of the tour so far. The only painful point is when Bruce and Marion arrive in the middle of Guilt Trip Song - the worst song in the world to arrive in the middle of, with no context - I implore the crowd to tell them that the rest of the songs weren't like that, and they happilly inform them that I've been swearing all night. Thanks a lot, guys.

Afterwards, a bunch of folks buy CDs and tell me about the Apollo, my gig the next night. Apparently it's a hardcore/metal club... a bunch of them agree to come out and be my posse...

I get home, check for Iguana's in my bed, and fall asleep reading a borrowed copy of V for Vendetta.

The next day, I wake up late and have a bath (the shower is leaking, so bath is my option). I haven't shaved in a day or two and have a stylin' five oclock shadow thing going on. In a day or two it will evolve into a bad-idea beard, for now it's cool.

Marion and Bruce take me out to the HOITO restaurant - a famous local Finnish place where I get famous local Finnish pancakes - yummy! HOITO means "care" in Finnish - the place was originally set up to provide cheap, yummy meals to Finnish workers in the blossoming lumber industry there. I also learn that Thunder Bay wasn't orginally called Thunder Bay - back in 1970, they amalgamated two towns into one and Thunder Bay was voted on as the new name. Across the body of water also called Thunder Bay, M&B point out "the sleeping giant" - a penninsula that looks like a reclined body on the far bank.

Then we head to Fort William - an old NorthWest company trading post - for a quick tour. Really interesting from both a historical perspective (indian/trader relations and traditions, horrific doctor tools (a "mechanical leech"), and how to build canoes...) and a museum perspective (many of the furs come from roadkill along the road - maybe that's why I haven't seen much). The tour ends at the farm section and I get some sloppy licks from a lovely cow.

I rush over to Lakehead U.'s radio station. Oye-Sem, the very nice manager at the Study pulled a favour to get me on to Jenn's Bent, a folksy show. Dave, filling in for Jenn, interviews me, asks me to play a couple tunes (Seventeen and Subway Sparrow) and plays Alright from the album. Then I get asked Dave's "dating questions" including (1) do I like girls, boys, or girls & boys [I like girls... but am married], (2) what's my favourite morning alchoholic beverage [ummm... beer? but only if I'm still awake from the night before - otherwise, generally I'm not a morning drinker...] and (3) what's my favourite muppet story [when Elmo came into the studio, screwed up his lines, and started swearing... you had to be there...].

I leave and try to pack in too many errands, getting gas, groceries, etc. and arrive just in time (again) for dinner with Marion and Bruce and Michael.

After dinner, I was up as they head out to Badminton, and then I boot it over to the bar, getting lost on the way, and arriving just in time to find... absolutely nothing going on. Apparently I was an hour early and had some time to kill. I read Exclaim magazine, which has not reviewed my album yet, and get a bit depressed.

Finally my opener and the sound guy shows up. There's about 5 people in the bar - definitely not a great crowd, but not the end of the world. My opener, a local singer/songwriter, puts a stop to that though by performing one of the stranger spoken word/religious/anti-religious/Johnny Carson-themed (really) sets I've ever seen. He started by singing that "everything would be alright, because Jesus Christ would save you." By the time he finished, the 5 people had left.

Luckily, Oye from the Study showed up and so did Bruce, Marion and Michael. I played a very short set for them and the nice folks at the Apollo (I played Stagefright - "what if we put on a show and nobody came" for them) and then pulled the plug. Russ, the sound guy, called it "ear candy" and everyone was nice. Oye was very cool too - hopefully we'll set up a bigger show at the Study soon. Afterwards, I hung out with Sheila, the owner of the Apollo (which used to be a restaurant owned by her family) - we despaired over the state of the music industry, and talked astrology (she was very excited that I shared a birthday with Elvis and Bowie and said I was the most easy going guy to set up a show with). And then she offered me two fantastic jackets - a warm down winter one and a sweet leather one. Very nice.

It's hard for bar managers and artists to pull a crowd these days - especially on a Tuesday night. But there used to be a time when going to see live music was a viable entertainment option 7 days a week - in any town. When did that change? I can't pretend not to be part of it, but Sheila and Oye and I all share the same problem - how do you make going out in this Country's cold winters to see an artist that you've never heard of?

I return very late and make too much noise coming in the door.

The next morning, I get to really spend some time with Susan, my roomate, who gives me a lick, seeming to accept me (in my mind at least). I give her some scratching and then wash my hands to avoid salmonella, which iguana's can carry. Bruce returns with some "persians" another local delicacy - basically cinnamon rolls with strawberry cream on top - not as groundbreaking as I expected, but delicious.

Thank you SO much to Bruce and Marion (& Michael and Susan) for their warm generosity and hospitality. I am a lucky musician to have such wonderful hosts. I leave promising to keep in touch and they buy a CD, refusing a free one.

If I'm going to keep up blogging, I clearly need to do this more often. My internet time is limited and I'm now 3 days behind and in Kenora, blogging about Wawa... anyway, here we go:

The night before, while drunk, I asked my new friend George what I should see in the Sault, so on his advice, on the way out, I stopped at the Bushplane museum, which I expected to spend about 10 minutes in and instead spent an hour - they have full scale planes that you can climb in - and some pretty fascinating and horrifying bushplanes stories ("... and then the bushplane chopped my arm off...").

I left the Sault, listening to the Tragically Hip which jarred a bit with the beautiful landscape - but suddenly Gord Downie spouts out "singing songs of Sault Ste. Marie... " [on the song "Raised Up in the Sky" off Road Apples] and it felt perfect. I eventually switch to The Last Waltz - The Band's final concert show with tons of amazing guests (an amazing movie too) and was happy when Neil Young sang "There is a town in North Ontario..." Feels like I'm picking the right cassettes for my rock roadtrip soundtrack.



The view between Sault Ste. Marie and Wawa is unbelievably beautiful. The yellow Tamarack trees are joined by reds and purples and greens and the road loops up, down and around, showing you arial views of expansive valleys and dipping you into deep lakesides on one side and towering tree lined mountains on the other. Stunning. I will never be bored on this trip if the scenery is like this. I could stare for hours. My mother phones to check in around Alcoma Bay and I pull up to a scenic viewpoint to talk. She reminds me of a trip I took with her across the country when I was much younger, where she kept stopping to point out how beautiful it all was. At the time, I must have just been impatient - either that or I have a terrible memory - but I can only remember tiny bits of that trip. It makes me happy to think that I'm now old enough to appreciate it all and that I can still rediscover it.



I make a small inukshuk out of rocks to mark this spot. Here's a definition I found: For travellers in Canada's North, an Inukshuk is a welcome sight. It says, 'I've been here before; you're on the right path' My inukshuk joins countless others I see along the road.

These valleys of trees are humbling - the size and age of this land is daunting and puts any small music tour to shame, even though it's currently filling up my life. My inner courier de bois comes out and I pine (ha ha) to explore rock walls for caves and see where rivers wind - I imagine being the first person to discover this all. Where would you stop? It's all so beautiful.

Ravens follow me, swooping overhead, and at one point a flock of starlings bursts out of the rock wall beside me and flies directly over my windshield. I hope I never forget this stretch of road.

Halfway to Wawa, I realize that I haven't seen the periodic small towns of the South and get a bit agoraphobic. Just a bit. How long would it be before the next car passed? I speed up.

Wawa is easy to find. Everything has been easy to find. My google maps, carefully printed out are barely consulted (and when they are are way off on timelines... okay, I'm speeding a bit... but still...). There's a giant goose on the road into town, and then... many more giant geese. I suspect the first one of being THE giant goose, but take pictures of them all just in case. The Wawa Motor Inn is also easy to find (there's a giant goose in front of it, but there's also a very nice "TONIGHT - DAVID HEIN, AWARD-WINNING SINGER/SONGWRITER" sign glowing out front.



I head inside and stop at the front desk. The girl behind it is a bit confused, and says "Oh, you're the famous person", and then tells me that "if we didn't give Sigourney Weaver special treatment, then we're not giving it to you." Ummm.... Finally, Sheila, a nice waitress from the bar saves me and gets me checked in. I'm given a regular key and an electronic key. I drive around to my room and unlock the door, only to find that it's latched from the inside. I go back to the front desk and find out that I have to go to the door on the inside, using my electronic key. I get into the room, put my stuff down and go outside to the car to get my stuff, closing the door behind me... and locking myself out. Sigh. I head back to the front desk, get ANOTHER electronic key and try again. A great start.

The hotel is actually lovely - but the room is cold (I realize I have to turn on the heat a bit later) and the wireless internet refuses to work until the next morning. I take a bath instead and read Rolling Stone (The "Hot" Issue - I hate the "Hot" issue - it's always inane - but was dying for something to read).

Finally, I head out to the bar - there isn't much to setup without a sound system, so I tune and put up my rent-a-wreck banner (which always gets ooohs and aaahs from bars now - thank you RAW). I chit chat with Kris the bartender and she gets me the special - a Prime Rib steak the size of my head. Who knew I would get so utterly spoiled on tour?

Kris shows me pictures of Wawa's sites. Everything pretty about Wawa seems to be out of town, but there are stunning waterfalls and canyons...

After eating I start to play - there's about 5 people in the room, so I play background covers, projecting across the gigantically empty room. My voice feels a bit funny (note to self: do not eat steak the size of your head 5 minutes before playing), but two girls buy me a drink (a now-recognizable northern "we like you" custom), so I must be doing something right. Finally, Sheila, the waitress from earlier returns with some friends and they clap, ask for requests and then ask for more originals. I play for 2 hours - my second show in a row projecting across a room for 2 hours - I worry about my voice a bit - high notes seem to crack, and in my head I blame the steak and the bath and singing on the drive up, but worry deeper in my head that maybe it's just tired vocal muscles...

Still, the crowd (well, the 6 people left...) likes it and when I stop, they invite me over and buy me drinks. They're an awesome bunch and quickly we make friends. They're all singer/songwriters too. I originally feel like going to bed, but surprise myself by having a blast with them - maybe it's that I'm alone so much on the road, but I love making friends when I hit town. They buy CDs - I sign CDs - we shoot the breeze and look at pictures of Kris's cute kids. They all agree that the girl at the front desk is bizarre. I finally head back to bed exhausted, drunk, but very... happy. Road friends may be impermanent but for a night, it feels like we all bond a bit. They promise to go smoke up and listen to my CD.

The next morning I wake up late - the internet finally works, so I spend the morning blogging (great - now I'm blogging about blogging - is that wierd?) and returning emails. I checkout slightly late at the front desk. Sheila's there - they were up to 4 in the morning. Rockstars...



Outside, it's snowing. The first snow of the tour. I take more pictures of geese and move on before it gets worse.

Again, despite the title, this starts in North Bay - land of hospitality and free pull-out couches to crash on.

The next day Allison and Gail come to wake me up. I shower quickly (I've become a shower junkie - one wakes me up, one makes me feel like I haven't been in a car for 4 hours, and one washes the sweat from the gig away). I've got a bit of time in North Bay, have some errands to run and want to go exploring. First Auny Patty shows up though. She talks about her co-worker (another cousin - is EVERYONE in town related to Allison & Gail?!) who apparently keeps playing "Alanis Morisette, Janet Jackson, and Jann Arden." A bizarre combination, but I can see that being annoying after a while - Aunt Patty buys one of my CDs and I join her private war on Girl Rock. Gail offers me tapes of Chick Rock to play in the VW Bug's tape player.

Allison and I walk down to Main Street. It's nice to walk after having driven everywhere and it's a beautiful day, although the news predicts snow this weekend. First errand is depositing money in the bank - something I didn't expect as an indie musician - with so many CD sales the night before, I have much to much cash on me and it makes me nervous. Then I pick up guitar strings just in case. Then we stop at Discovery@NorthBay - the museum that Gail works at - which is stunning! Seriously, it's worth the drive to North Bay to see this shrine to trains, planes and... well, actually that's most of it, but still, you can drive a train, fly planes, find out how much it is to mail yourself, hear stories about North Bay AND see Allison's smurf collection! Any museum with a smurf collection is aces in my books.

Amy, one of Gail's co-workers who came to the barbecue and show the other night was working that day - and HAD JUST GOTTEN ENGAGED THE NIGHT BEFORE! Check out her rock! Congrats!

We then hit local celebrity hotspot OMER'S USED GUITARS & VACUUMS. Yes, that's what it's called. And apparently it's famous. The Barenaked Ladies have sung about it. The Rankins order violins from here and Randy Bachman is pictured with Omer, the owner. Inside it's a bizarre collection of musical and suctional, but actually is pretty impressive in it's collection. Equally impressive is Allison, the Book Man down the street which has millions of used books.

Finally, I take off - with Alanis & Jann Arden playing on Gail's tapes - following the same route before to Sudbury but turning off on Highway 17 to the Sault. Tamarack trees keep me happy and Nipissing Lake peaking out from behind them is stunning.

I find a giant teepee and a giant Loonie on the way.

I arrive in Sault Ste. Marie around 7 and can't find the club, so I check into my hotel and enjoy a bit of wireles sinternet access before heading back out. Much as I love North Bay's hospitality, I'm secretly looking forward to sleeping in a hotel bed, using their gym, continental breakfast and basically being a rockstar primadonna.

I find the club and talk to Steve, the owner of LopLops for awhile. Loplops is beatiful - handmade by Steve and it shows. It's a combination of art gallery, bar, performance space and is very cool. It's named after a European artist who used to put a little bird cartoon from his childhood in every painting - the bird was called a Loplop. The last time I played here, was for a gay & lesbian film festival wrap party (In Sault Ste. Marie - who knew?!), so I wasn't sure what I'd find here. I was opening for a band called Big Wheel & The Spokes - which according to Steve was one of the best local bands.

I was supposed to start at 9:30, but Steve held off until 9:50 or so. I played my first song to an empty back section, but people, hearing the music shuffled back to join me. It was a good crowd, mostly into hanging out and talking, but still friendly. I finished and met Carrie, newly married wife to Jay (Big Wheel of the band, I guess) - a sweetheart who was totally supportive - bought one of my CDs and then gave me one of Jay's for free. We hung out and talked all night while BW&TS played.

Here are some amazing things about BW&TS. Jay just got back from a 5 week honeymoon in Europe that day. Their drummer was in North Bay studying to be a teacher the night before. And without any rehearsal they sounded tighter than any band I've seen. Seriously - they were awesome. And Jay is an incredible guitarist - despite having the tips of his left hand fingers cut off in a work accident a year or two back. HOLY &#$%.

Anyway, since they were awesome and gave me a CD, I bought one of their shirts - and a lop lops shirt (Steve threw in another for free). I now have too many t-shirts and will have to start wearing 2 at once.

I also met George, who runs CRANK music services in town - an awesome guy who supplies every music event in the area with gear. Halfway through the set he went and got a bizarre pink daisy bass and forced Frank the bass player to play it.

Generally I don't drink when playing, but as the opener and with nothing to do and with free beer being offered, I partook of the beer of the month, which coincidenatally I forgotten the name of. George then took me over to the other live music bar in town and bought me a Rye and then while trying to pay the bill, accidentally ordered shots. Again, coincidentally I've forgotten the name of this bar or really much of the rest of the night. Eventually I headed back to the Travelodge and fell asleep.

Made some nice new friends, drank too much and bought too many t-shirts. A good night in my books. Next is Wawa, but first a trip to the gym and then another shower...

Despite the title - this blog begins in North Bay again. I headed West to Sudbury 2 nights ago, dragging Allison with me for car company. Allison's been substitute teaching up in North Bay for a month or two - she's a drama teacher, but has so far also taught welding, mechanics, and a bizarre assortment of topics.

I babble on about the yellow trees (Irene says I sound like Agent Cooper talking to Diane about pie in Twin Peaks), which Allison informs me are called Tamarack trees. They're deciduous like the pines, but their needles change colour. Not that I had one before, but they're now my favourite tree. Allison points out the Sturgeon straight (I think that's what it's called) - a section of highway that's completely straight and apparently boring, but it's bordered by Tamaracks and I'm happy.

I've played in Sudbury before, so assumed I knew where I was going (ha ha ha), but we found the Chapters where I was playing relatively easily ("I think it's in a mall like that one... oh, wait, it's in THAT mall!").

Since I've played there before I knew what to expect, but it doesn't make it any less strange. You can either play in the middle of the Chapters with no amplification, which makes you look like you just wandered in off the street and are busking, or you can play in the Starbucks, which looks somewhat better, but not much... On the other hand, in Chapters, I find people are more inclined to buy a $15 CD on top of their $20-30 book purchase, whereas in Starbucks, people are nursing their $12 latte and have no intention of coming anywhere near you or your CD pile. Anyway, there was a book signing in Chapters, so I got Starbucks.

As I was setting up a nice woman asked, "I have to leave - will you play me something right now?" So I sat down next to her and played South Dakota. Turns out we're both from out West - she liked the song and bought a CD.

The rest of the gig went well. Since the crowd turns over completely every half hour, you can play songs over again. It keeps me entertainend to pick which songs will make which customers interested (South Dakota for older couples, Fighter for the young 'uns). Allison (my Sudbury/North Bay manager) gave excellent suggestions.

Afterwards, we got free double-chocolate chip milkshake drinks (exceeding my calorie count for the whole tour...), which I guess is the true perk of playing in Starbucks.

Then, with a bit of time on our hands before we headed back to North Bay to sleep, we decided to look for the giant Nickel. Which you'd think would be easy to find... first of all, it's a GIANT NICKEL. Second of all, you'd think Sudbury would be proud of it and put up a sign or something. But no. We saw the smoke stack and mines and the rock walls on the highway - all beautiful in the darkness - but no giant change. Finally after consulting a guy outside of a Kwik-way (the "7-11 of the North" according to Allison) we found our way there. Hours of operation for the mining museum were well past, but you can cruise past the teenagers making out up onto the sidewalk and practically drive up to the Nickel, which is nicely lit at night. This is the first of many "giant things" that I think I'll see on this tour. I know Wawa has a goose and Medicine Hat has a teepee...

Driving back, the road seems much more dangerous in the dark - I haven't done any night driving yet and the rock walls that seemed so pretty in the light seem claustrophobic. At one point I almost drive into oncoming traffic, but don't thanks to Allison who wisely suggests otherwise.

Arriving back we hit a grocery store, stop at Gail's to eat pizza and humus. Well fed, I crawl into my sleeping bag and pass out.

The morning after the CD release, I woke up late and chaotically assembled all the stuff that I'm bringing - I've never done a tour this long before so I have no idea what to expect. Thank god I didn't go with the Smart Car idea though - the Rent-a-Wreck VW bug (I need a name for her - send me some ideas - winner gets a prize!) barely holds everything, but it fits.

The car is great - really, you had me at "seat warmers" - especially for a winter tour - but it's also incredibly easy to find in a parking lot, has a little holder for a flower (still don't have one - what else can go in there?) and instead of a CD player has a tape player. The last point, might not be a plus for most of you, but after some frantic digging through old boxes, I came up with an acid-wash cassette holder filled with some awesome old tapes. Driving North I listened to Crash Test Dummies, Spirit of the West, Blue Rodeo and Cowboy Junkies - getting all Canadian-ized up for crossing the country.

Before I left, Irene and I stopped back at Healey's to get a picture of the billboard that I missed the night before. I'm still high on the release party - it went so quick! Thank you all for your well wishes and CD purchases.

Had to say goodbye to Marty, my small, black kitten - he's going to have his birthday while I'm away and will be gigantic when I get back. I hope he remembers me. Much harder was saying goodbye to my wonderful wife, Irene, who has been amazingly supportive about the tour. I don't know how other musicians do this. I'll just have to convince her to come sing with me next time. If you're in Toronto, her Second City class is performing this Sunday afternoon! Plus it's FREE! (http://www.secondcity.com/?id=theatres/toronto)

In press terms, Stagefright will be played on Jay Moonah's podcast (http://onlinemusicmarketing.com/), we're setting up an interview with the East York Mirror, and I think there'll be a review of the show soon.

Driving North was beautiful - the land slowly changes as the Canadian shield rises up in magnificent structures along the road. And about 2 hours North, the trees burst into yellows like they're on fire. I took some pictures (yes, I take pictures of trees) that totally don't do them justice, but they're stunning. Just as quick, the leaves and pine needles fall off and the trees are bare. The temperature drops and my guitar goes out of tune.

Aside from Canajun rock on old tapes, I listened to CBC for a bit - the most interesting story I heard was about a bank in Denmark that accepts art for money - check it out at www.art-money.org. How cool is that?

And apparently I'm used to sitting still for hours at a time (Thanks, Aviva!) so I wasn't all that sore (but wait for the 8 hour drive to Wawa and we'll see...).

I arrived in North Bay in 3.5 hours (5.5 hrs my ass, Google maps...) and was welcomed with open arms by the Green family who had called out every cousin and co-worker to a barbecue in my honour. Thanks to Tracey and Paul (and Tessa their beautiful 6-month old... and Layla the beatiful german sheppard... and Boston, the barky dog) for probably the best meal I'll have all tour and to Gail for letting me crash on her pullout couch (and getting me a bathroom kit and everything). They're totally spoiling me for the rest of the trip.

100 Georges (www.100georges.com) seems to be the place to play in North Bay. The bar was packed to the rafters and they'd put my posters up all over the club and "David Hein - Tonight at 9pm" was glowing in the sign outside. Still makes me happy. A great musician named Jim opened up the night for me and then I played for 2 hours - seriously running out of vocals and songs near the end... 100 Georges is what I'd call a background music gig - most of the crowd is there to drink and talk and dance and I'm there to provide background music. So it was a pleasure when I got dancers, sing-a-longs, laughter (North Bay likes Guilt Trip Song a LOT), and people who came out to listen to the music. I sold a bunch of CDs - two girls in the back tipped me $5 in exchange for a personal rendition of 5 Days in May by Blue Rodeo. And a nice innebriated guy bought me a beer and told Allison to make sure she told me that "he's a good guy."

We hung out for a little while more and then headed back to Gail's to crash. Today I slept in, had a hot shower and feel relaxed, organized, and pysched about the rest of the tour. I'm at Tracey and Paul's again using their internet - Tessa is sleeping and Boston the barky dog has accepted me as a friend.

NORTH OF NOWHERE, is officially released and is now available here at www.davidhein.net, orderable through HMV, or on itunes. or puretracks. Makes an excellent stocking stuffer, Santas!

The tour is almost complete - check out the updated blog above, chock full of pictures and road stories. Thank you to everyone who made it a huge success - you all rock.

David