The La La Land at the End of the Rainbow

Coming down through high ranch country. Big spaces. Southbound. This little highway does not disappoint. I'm driving into spring. Any fool would know that. Still, here are the first leaves. A rebirth. A boost. Life. The seasons of man are teased along by all this. We are not old. We are- at least for a moment- young. The smell of the opening leaves, the first warmth of sun, the thin young women sunning in the cafe patio: all this available for a moment, blurred by memories of when we, too, were opening our leaves and all things were possible.

I've taken a secondary, secondary highway southeast from Williams Lake, BC to kill off the day's drive to Kamloops, where I am to play tonight. I stop in old cemeteries and take pictures of unexceptional graves. Someday, someone may think these people may of had some connection to me. Maybe they did. Or now do. I stopped and drank wine by these gated old graves. I wondered who these were. Born in Oklahoma and died here in 1961. "Forever Loved and Missed by His Wife." Maybe these mountains are the hardest place to be lonely in. Or the easiest place- if that has to be what lonely is. I'm happy with my own company on this day as I drive the empty highway. Sometimes this is the loneliest job in the world. I could stop in Lone Butte and change my name to Bill. I could do odd jobs. Do you remember the guy who used to come through and play at the cafe? Yeah. The guy with the old steel guitar. That could be me. But today I'm driving through to Kamloops, British Columbia. I'm not vanishing here, today. Somewhere, up in the humpy little hills, I've got a house concert tonight.

It's not all downhill. But after the continental divide it sure feels like it sometimes. Westbound, I usually drive Route 1 through Cache Creek, Ashcroft, Spences Bridge- down through the high dessert country as I head south and west for Canada's "left coast." Today I exit Kamloops and drive the Coquihalla Highway. A terror in the winter, it is still pretty interesting when dry. They didn't hire me in Spences Bridge this year, so I thought I'd do lunch in Merrit, BC, instead. There's always a new act that's pretty, and sings harmony, to fill out the festival bill. After 10 years of playing these dry, tumbleweed towns, it would be nice to leave with more than gas money. At that, I still shift the car into neutral and coast down miles and miles of mountain road. I've come out of Spences Bridge with nothing but fumes in the tank more than once. There's steelhead in the river. Two railways- one on each side of the river. Eagles hover on top of it all. Crippled little farms, rusted trucks and apple pie. Cowboy cemetery with a witch buried in it. Yeah, yeah, I love that place. The Bridge. The Baits Motel. I'll stop on the eastbound swing and have coffee and pie at the Packinghouse Cafe... How can I not? These are my people.

Now, it's Vancouver. One of the world's beautiful cities. If you have the money. There's a hockey game tonight. This town is in the playoffs, so even the hookers have abandoned the streets. Will they riot in the streets if they lose? The fans, not the hookers. I hope my car is safe outside. But all is quiet. I don't know if the team wins or loses, but I'm pretty much shut down at the trendy, downtown Railway Club. The only woman here is made of wood. A couple of guys come in and watch my hands trace the guitar. My voice is a bit torn tonight, so I don't mind closing the bar early, packing out quickly to the Lincoln, driving, driving. Windows are open, neon on the streets. I lost money after paying for parking on this gig. I'll be off to Vancouver Island in the morning. Hopefully the Tour will begin to produce some actual cash returns over the next two weeks of shows. After ten solid years of playing here, I'd like to be invited to play some of the great festivals presented every summer. As it is, I have enough support that I no longer have to sleep in my car outside the Starbucks in Nanaimo. At least not that often.

I lost my prescription shades in the car crash a couple of years ago. I don't let that spoil the beautiful ferry ride from Vancouver to Victoria, BC. But it is a little squinty, for sure. I've got a little band in Victoria that I've been doing some of the local, Island gigs with, so I'll have a quick rehearsal with them tonight before the first show.

McKinley Wolf/ Doc MacLean bassist Ian Walls gives bass lessons on the patio during set up. I've had a blast playing with Ian, Dallas, and Ed. This is a band that has covered some of my tunes- so I'm always pleased to play with them. At tonight's show Rockland sat in on guitar and was great. As he said, we're part of the same tribe. We're both open G tuning guys that play in all keys- so our chords can look pretty strange sometimes! That was really fun in spite of a sparse turnout to this north Victoria venue.

Up to Char's Landing in Port Alberni. This is a lovely venue, and I always enjoy both visiting and playing here.

That's the view from the landing in Port Alberni. It's a mill town with a tough underbelly, but it is changing fast...

Further on down the road, harp player Lazy Mike and his partner, Doreen, host me for a show.

It's another hockey night. Slow. David Vest is playing just a few miles away. Are we splitting the crowd tonight? Or has he got most of them? Or are we both running on fumes tonight? I don't see anybody from the Nanaimo Blues Society. After a decade of bringing the blues through here, that's a little disappointing for me. I'm not getting any younger, and it's pretty clear that the Tours, the artists, and the venues are not going to be sustainable without bums in seats. Live music in small venues has been slowing down, not just for me, but for many- if not most- of the other, hard core touring acts. It's one thing to take a holiday from work and do a little tour, or retire and fund the thing on pension money, or get a grant to fund your losses but- with due respect- those are different songs and stories, different adventures, different worlds than the ones shared by those who live and die riding the broken white line. Still, we all need bums in seats, and it would seem that the demographic most interested in this music is less and less interested in driving at night. I sleep on the stage after the place closes, but wake up to a beautiful day. Looking good for my drive up Island to Comox. My friends there will treat me well. I'm hoping for a good house concert crowd. I need a cash injection. I'll take the long, coastal road to kill time...

Do you see why they call this La La Land? Well, it is pretty nice. Mississippi got way more snow last winter than this Vancouver Island coast.

Jacket winner at the house concert! I had a ball hanging out with my friends Ken and Lynda, and left with a prize winning jar of pickles! A good crowd in spite of the fact that the Island Festival was putting on a bash for it's volunteers just a few minutes away. In spite of the low Canadian dollar the Festival has managed to maintain a stellar line-up of international artists including Buddy Guy for this year's event. Similar to the mainstream economy, big events are getting bigger, and small events are getting smaller. Have these large festivals become the Walmarts of live music now? They do present a great value for consumers- who don't have to drive at night. A massive collection of top notch artists, at one daily price. Certainly to be an artist featured on these festival bills is to gain access to an audience measured in thousands, or tens of thousands- as opposed to dozens. In the evolving world of roots music, it would seem that the small venues and small shows are increasingly at a disadvantage. This is not necessarily a bad thing. But it is an observation. And as I say to many of the older players, "you've got to ride the wave." The tide is always turning.

Nest stop: Denman Island. I'm riding smaller waves, but enough rocking to make it interesting.

I've driven across Denman Island many times over the years- part of a ferry relay to get to nearby Hornby Island with it's very active blues society. My time on Hornby has always been enjoyed, but I've always been curious about Denman. These Islands all have their own character, their own feel, their own take on the world. Denman does not let me down. My afternoon show at the Island's cafe and guesthouse is full, and the people are all interesting. Plenty of American ex-pats here, as on the other islands in this Gulf. White haired now, they came here back in "the day." Draft dodgers, war resistors, dreamers, hippies, girl chasers, boy chasers, debt evaders, protesters, dope growers, inventors, builders, writers, farmers, teachers, preachers. Folks who craved a better, if self-made world. Kennedy once gave a speech where he talked about "the best and the brightest." I do believe in those troubled years many of the best and the brightest made their way to Canada, where they had a remarkable influence on it's culture and development. That was America's loss, and a wound still not fully healed.

Among those who showed up for my performance was Hillel Wright, the editor, poet, novelist, commercial fisherman, tree planter, college professor, radio dj, and former Rhino party candidate. As it turns out he now divides his time between Denman and Japan- and we've got mutual friends in the small blues scene over there. We are also, as I discover when reading his latest book, Crad Kilodney fans. A small, small world now- and kindred souls tend to stumble upon one and other! Rotary Sushi is Wright's latest book, and he kindly gifted me a copy for my journey.

Back to Victoria, BC the next day for some interesting shows. Ian Walls and I played an assisted living residence in honor of our friend Big Charlie, who had recently moved in to the facility.

We then played one of the world's smallest theatres- a fun show at Merlin's Sun Room- with local singer- songwriter Auto Janez opening the evening.

One of Victoria's many little harbours... In my downtime I ran about 10 km (6 miles) of the winding coast that shores this city. A fine time, although I later pay a price for the many hills!

Genoa Bay. My base for a few days of concerts in the Duncan region of British Columbia.