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.
