UK Tour 2026

 

1.       Thursday, September 3^rd - Hampton-Hilton Hotel Edinburgh - When we went to the baggage claim we found that one of our bags had been "delayed".  We told them where we were staying and they said they would send the bag to the hotel. (Kristi's two bits): This is our tenth tour ten years since our last and as of the 11th of September, the 25th anniversary of our first (okay, figure that date out folks; needless to say that's a story of its own).  It does feel to our small perspectives a bit momentous.  It will probably be our last though we have no reason to see any doomsday scenario ahead.  We've deliberately avoided stomping our carbon footprint too hard with this kind of travel.  But how sweet it is to be still able to do it!  The British Airways baggage snafu has me wondering about the entire scenario since the receptionist staff at our hotel Hampton by Hilton at the Airport were way too familiar with the routine.  But lest I give the impression they're remiss in their intentions to get the bag to us yet, I should refrain from criticism...so far!  

2.      Friday, September 4^th - Visit Malcolm & Mary LeMaistre – see Malcolm’s trees and out to Indian Dinner.  It was really great to see Malcolm and Mary.  We first met them in 2001 at a festival in Scotland.  Malcolm casually invited us to visit him at the performers party at the end of the festival.  I don't think he really thought we'd come, but we did and we're still friends after all these years with many visits to hear about his projects, and watch his forest grow.

3.      Saturday, September 5^th - Leave Hampton-Hilton Hotel without the big red bag.  We were at the hotel for two nights and stayed a good deal of the day waiting to get the bag but it did not come so we left without the bag.  It is a 50 pound bag and it contained Kristi's amplifier, two stepdown transformers, extension cord, ProCo 9 camera, Tascam DR40 digital recorder, and much more.  We drove to Guisborough to Fox and Hounds Hotel.

4.      Sunday, September 6^th - Meet Val Monteith-Towler for dinner & play Guisborough Folk Club @ Rugby Club.  Val brought an amplifier for Kristi to use – We also found a phone charger to work with 220 V.  It was great to see Val - long conversation and she was terrific helping us with our sound, and generally being supportive.  It was our first gig in the UK this year.  (Kristi's two bits):  Kudos also to the members of the Guisborough Folk Club for a lovely turnout of receptive, friendly folks, and in particular, Anne Wilson, club coordinator, for all her help.  I believe this was our sixth year performing for the group.

Rugby Club  before performance

Val Helps

Val & Kristi

5.      Monday, September 7^th - Drive to Odiham to Air BnB – stopped in rest area to sleep in car for an hour and a half.  It was a long drive from Guisborough.  (Kristi's two bits):  Steve is doing a fine job driving these wiggly, narrow roads that seem to get more congested every time we come.  And while I'm being ethnocentric, I'll carry on with more insignificant things that seem to me to have changed in twenty-five years here (as if you're interested): 1.  Colas I order come cold now instead of warm, and frequently have ice.  2.  Chain hotels with reasonable prices are everywhere now, replacing the more expensive bed and breakfasts that were our only choices in 2001.  3.  Adults now openly reveal their knees in the form of shorts, which were nowhere to be seen in 2001.  Maybe an exceptionally hot summer has had something to do with that. 4.  I have yet to see clothing drying on a clothes line.  That was the way most people dried clothing from the wash ten years ago.  Of course these are strictly superficial observations easily disproven by anyone wanting to take issue with me.

Air BnB Odiham

6.      Tuesday, September 8^th – order and pickup stepdown transformer so I can use this computer – in the evening I ordered a new bass amp for Kristi that . . . but that evening we had a radio interview in Alton, which was a short distance from our air b n b.  There were two guys who did the interview, one actually doing the interview (mostly just playing some songs) and the other guy who we had a long talk with.  You can see some of it on our Steve and Kristi Nebel Facebook feed.  (Kristi's two bits): This show is called Acoustic Cafe, hosted by Brian Player, and airs on the community station, Wey Valley Radio.  They're tireless volunteers with a loyal local following, much appreciated by us and others in Hants.

7.      Wednesday, September 9^{th  -}  Waited for the amplifier to come  - when it got here we had to try it out and thankfully it works well – good enough to do the job.  Also the airline proxy was found and they are going to get the big red bag to us when we get to Sawbridgeworth and are visiting Geoff Leeds.  We went for a walk which buoyed our spirits a bit.  (Kristi's two bits):  The entire saga of the missing bag has caused enough consternation, panic, and anxiety to make me recall the simple, sage advice to a high school classmate from her mother as she faced career changes and identity crises: "When you have problems that overwhelm you, just figure it out!"  That was my credo in dealing with the missing parts of our required elements which were in that big red bag.  We did figure it out, so that now, with or without the bag, we can and will manage with what we've got.  Thus we're able to sleep at night knowing I have an amplifier for my electric bass guitar, and we have an electric stepdown transformer enabling us to use all of our electronic devices in this country.  Needless to say it's a big relief.

A dog begging attention from strangers.




Thursday, September 10th - We spent the day enjoying our location and the Air BnB that we had rented. We went for the longer walk that our hostess had suggested, visited Odiham Castle, and walked by the canal. My only complaint came later when I discovered I had bruised the bottom of my feet as the shoes I've been wearing have very thin soles.





This is a house with a thatched roof. It's something you don't see often in the USA.






These are sloe berries. I didn't know what they were. When I tasted one it had a pit and a sour taste. They are not blueberries, but they are what you make sloe gin from. We saw several bushes full of them.

Friday, September 11th, Saturday September 12th & Sunday, September13th

Friday was our last day in Odiham (Pron. Odium). We got our groceries out of the refrigerator, packed our suitcases, threw away the box that the amplifier came in. We took out the trash, and after breakfast cleaned the dishes. The next step was getting everything into the car, which we did. As we were just getting ready to go a gentleman walking his dog stopped and we had a conversation. It turned out that he had lived in the area all his life, and he had brothers who lived within walking distance of his home, which was near. He mentioned that people around there were known as "Hampshire Hogs".
We got in the car, ready to head off but our power plug for our GPS was shorting out. We spent such a long time trying to get the GPS to work that the fellow on his walk came back again, this time just a greeting as he walked on. We were then off to Bogner Regis and the Carlton Hotel. We stopped in Chichester to get a new power adapter for our GPS, which we did and we're much happier now. Oh, that happiness should be so easily accessible! Then on to the Carlton Hotel. The proprietor was named Rom, a serious Indian man. He helped lug our baggage up to the third floor. Kristi says she was glad of the exercise, and that's a good thing because we did a lot of up and down in the two days we spent there.



The room was tiny and there were few amenities provided, but it did have a bed and an air conditioner, which we needed. It had a loud fan which was handy to mask sound from the beach and the bar while we slept. We took a little time to find out where we were scheduled to play the next night. In town there was a walking shopping street. I suppose you'd call it an outdoor mall. Kristi had been looking for a "Greggs" bakery, which is her go to for sausage rolls and caramel shortbread. There was one in the walking mall. We bought a few things and stopped and sat on a bench across from a couple of women drinking beer on the bench across the street from us.



This is a view of across the street from the hotel. Kristi noticed that there were a lot more short pants than we had experienced in earlier years in England. Wardrobes have migrated with the times. I suppose I dress differently now too. Driving around that central part of Bogner Regis was a challenge. I suppose not as bad as center Edinburgh, or Leicester, but tight with plenty of one way streets, and lots of cars.



This picture is of a booth that sells "cockles, mussels" not alive though. We didn't sample their wares but were amused at their presence. Saturday was performance day for us so we went over to the RAFA club to check it out, and managed to arrange to get a permit for parking while we performed as our instruments are quite heavy with the original cases. We had meant to have gig bags, and Kristi's amp is small and fits in a rucksack but all of that stuff is still with British Airways so we had the new amplifier, and two guitars in really heavy cases (they protected them well while enroute).


We met the sound guy in this first exploration of the RAFA Club. He was nice enough and assured me that they had plenty of microphones. We stopped at a little restaurant on our way back to the hotel and had a bite to eat. There was a sea shanty group across the street singing sea shanties. There were performers in the streets all day. We saw a fine group of Irish dancers a block away from the sea shanties.


Finally we got dressed and drove over to the RAFA Club early for our performance. We were really early so we put our instruments in storage with the festival personnel downstairs, got ourselves something to drink and waited for the ukuleles to cool off a bit. When it was a bit before our time we escaped downstairs, picked up our instruments . . . (we could have take the lift) and walked upstairs. The sound guy was named Steve so I thought we'd get along OK. The first thing the staff did was take all the concert seating away and left an empty dance floor. Steve was taking the mics and mic stands off the stage before I pointed out that we were going to need them. We then had a conversation about how we would be set up. The mixer was at the back of the room so I had no access to it. There was a snake, but no direct boxes. When I asked about direct boxes Steve was a bit indignant telling me,
"it said in your directions that you were to provide all the backline". Well, in my book that meant that if I was going to need a guitar amplifier I would have one. Kristi had her amp, but I prefer to have all the instruments in the mains speakers with the vocals, but Steve . . . well he didn't see it that way. They did have a guitar amplifier. I noticed, however, late in the performance that some of my guitar strings were more or less transparent in the amplifier. I probably could have fixed that if I had been prepared to use a guitar amplifier, but I wasn't. Then, of course, there was the matter of no stage monitors so Steve turned the mains speakers (the budget version of Mackie SRM350s) towards us so we could hear ourselves. The next thing, when we did a sound check, Steve tells me to turn down the guitar because with the mains pointed directly at us he can't get the vocals up where they're supposed to be without feedback.


After we played there were a couple of people who said they'd told the customers who were talking to shut up, apologized for their rudeness and said how ashamed they were of people who just couldn't behave themselves. Generally the response was overwhelming good. We were pretty good for a couple of jetlagged Yankees. There's a good chance that the rest of our performances will be completely acoustic performances (except for Kristi "Boom Boom's" bass amp).


We had a drink in the bar downstairs in the hotel and retired to our room for a bit of Netflix entertainment. I'm amazed at how easy Netflix has made it to hook up with our account wherever we travel. If you know British television well enough the entertainment value can be excellent, however if you don't, you may well miss all the good TV for some programming that is less than optimum for you. I guess I'm missing out on my cultural immersion by using Netflix, but back home on Netflix we often do watch British programming.


On Sunday we stayed around for the Jez Lowe Show. It was a free concert so we got there early and as it turned out there were plenty of seats, although it did fill up late. I think I got some hints about what I could do to spice things up a bit with my guitar playing. I'll have to write some new songs though. No problem.







The drive to Sawbridgeworth was uneventful other than the tiny roads which was the last bit we drove to get to Geoff's house. I wouldn't call it scary, but maybe a bit "nervous"?






Kristi's voice now:

Sam's death was a blow. Having lost a brother too I am well aware of the pain of losing the only one we will ever have. This loss will never part us. From where I see it, many moments of bonded brotherhood are lovingly behind us both. We will share more tears for Sam yet.

South Downs Folk Festival ended well. We performed Saturday night in a RAFA Club, meaning Royal Air Force, much like the fraternal organizations we played dance music for during several decades of our career as a cover band. It's by my experience a bit unusual, expecting a crowd of drinkers to sit quietly for a concert of original music, so we had the expectations to match the situation. A number of them were in fact just waiting for another such band to follow us. The group was mixed. We had some who very attentively responded and others who didn't. Afterward we were approached by three who were very enthused about us, and later by two more the next day. And we had a roaring request for an encore when we finished, so by my standards were well received.

Bognor Regis is one of the many seaside towns in the U.K. drawing tourists with casinos, game rooms, all manner of food both British and international, and an esplanade upon which to promenade. In my travels I must confess I've been a bit less than adventurous in a culinary sense. In Nome I politely declined the offer to share muktuk with newfound Inupiaq friends. I still have a twinge of guilt in that rude ethnocentricity, knowing what it took that group to harvest that whale. And still I've not visited one of these quick-stop food huts selling these oddities. If you look closely at the photo above you'll see they're selling cockles, mussels, jellied eels, and whelks. I may yet, though. What say you? Should I? The little huts selling beach chairs for rent are a bit of a curiosity not seen in the U.S. But none were in business this late in the season. Nobody gets wet, apparently; no swimsuits to be seen. Then again, the North Sea isn't exactly tropical. It leads me to wonder what's the draw for all these people. It has been speculated by minds more astute than mine, that possibly it got rolling in the industrial revolution of Victorian England, when the working class families finally were able to save a few pennies to get away from their little homes for a new thing, the holiday. And where was there to go? The only true escape on this densely populated island is that wilderness of the sea. At least that was so before air travel. And then there was the ever-present problem of the air, so universally sullied by coal dust. We all know the sea air is better, right? So all roads eventually reach the sea. And once there, folks recline under cloudy skies and stare at the wild waves, mesmerized by the gentle roar.

Monday, September 14th

A couple of days ago I got the word that my brother Sam passed away. Kristi and I had made one last trip to see him before we headed out for the UK. He had passed into hospice before we left, but I was sure he'd still be there when we returned to the states. I was in denial. Now he's gone, passed into memories. There was always some conflict in our relationship, not outwardly, but at a more subtle level. I found this poem on this computer today from a few years ago. I added to it. I wonder about the wisdom of sharing it, but I guess I just need to have someone bear witness to my feelings.










Dose Meadows



Does it matter if they listened?
At that time, I thought it did.
Until I said those words,
You in firm denial
The forest was closing around me
I was bathing in the sound of
The mountain streams
The green of the devil’s club.
I know. It’s a spikey plant,
Unfriendly like I am sometimes
Yet, I find the plant architecture
That is there . . . attractive.


The horses were behind us
We were going at a fair pace
Then you said, “no, that’s not how it happened”
You, with no experience
Never spoke to him about his life
Telling me no.
The forest blurred as anger filled
My head. I walked on ahead.
Now you don’t remember me,
Asked me if I watched the Superbowl
If you actually knew me
You would know
I never watch the Superbowl.


We spread our parents’ ashes in the meadow
On the mountainside,
The horses grazing peacefully
There was a stillness in the air
I was left without words
As I am sometimes without words
When I am with you
Today.


Now you are gone.
The last time we saw you
You were well disabled.
We took you in your wheelchair
For a walk (for us), a wheel
Around the block for you.
I was no longer angry.
My anger burns slow most times anyway.
The death squad showed up
When we got you back to your room.
The chaplain, social worker, and RN.
They could have just as well
Been carrying a scythe
Told us they’d come back later.
For me, you were still alive,
Maybe not kicking,
But certainly you were my brother.
We tried to share
Our lives.
Maybe I was just as guilty
Of not listening hard enough,
Not paying the attention
That needs to be paid.
For now, if I have a question
I can speak into the ether
Can be assured of no answer.


I should have always known better.
You stayed home from family vacations
To play baseball.
You missed Yellowstone, Yosemite,
Disneyland.
I remember you had a violin
But I never heard you play it.
You lettered in football, basketball,
And mostly baseball.
I was inside my head,
A book I was reading,
A different world.
Still, I should have taken the time,
Made the effort to see your world,
Or maybe not.
Hindsight is twenty-twenty,
And now the future
Will continue
Without you.

As for us, we're in Sawbridgeworth at Geoff Leeds home. Geoff is coming home today from a folk festival. We're looking forward to seeing him. We've been here many times before. It has been one of our stops when we have no place to go. We drove here yesterday after staying in Bogner Regis to see a Jez Lowe concert. He was every bit as good as his reputation, funny, a fine voice, and an excellent hand with his instruments (left hand guitar, cittern, and mandolin). He sang a song that was notes from his stolen mandolin. The mandolin spoke quite eloquently of the slob who had stolen her. The song is on the cd we bought from him which I'm looking forward to listening to.

September 16, 17 & 18 - Time with Geoff Leeds

Geoff & Kristi

Hardly a few moments passed after we rolled into Geoff Leeds place when the "big red bag" showed up on his doorstep.  It was a great relief even though we had already replaced the essential parts of the bag.  It did have our hats in it, and an audio recorder.  I haven't used the GoPro camera in it yet.  It does take up a substantial place in the car.  

Chris, Kristi, and Brian

We left Geoff alone one night and dropped down to Southampton to play the Foc's'le Folk Club.  We stayed with Brian Hooper and his wife Christine.  We had a lovely political discussion with Brian, and they were really great company.  The club had a number of very good floor spots, and we saw Paul Clarke who actually MC'd the night.  Paul shows up at our Victory Music open mic now and again.  It's always a great pleasure to see him.

Geoff fed us every night we were there (and breakfast too).  We also went to a folk sing-a-round, and one night a melodeon and accordion session.  The melodeon and accordion session made us feel like ducks out of water, but there was some fine playing there, and we saw a harmonica player that was truly exceptional.  He also played melodeon.   This took place at a pub that you would never find by accident.  It was out in the countryside in what I suppose would be called a village.  It's a session that takes place weekly and has a large subscribership of very fine musicians.  It was all instrumental music except for the few songs that Kristi and I sang.

Geoff at the George Pub (melodeon session)

The sing-a-round at Waltham Abbey was mostly really old people, old enough that someone who was in their fifties, or sixties seemed young.  That club had deteriorated since that last time we had visited it, but they were a fun variety of singers.  There were a couple of guys with classical guitars playing Americana songs (maybe because we were there), a man Geoff said was 92 years old who played a plastic recorder and sang traditional folk songs.  There was one woman who may have been around 50 who was a good singer and played Americana, and one of her own songs.  

Sawbridgeworth condos by the canal

During the day we took a walk along the Sawbridgeworth Canal.  It really wasn't all that long a walk, and we had brunch at a restaurant by the canal at the end of the walk.  We also visited an antiques store, which was fun (isn't it always?).

Antiques

The last sing-a-round Geoff took us to was at a Friend's Meeting House (Quakers).  It was all acoustic, and I inappropriately tried to plug Kristi's bass amp in, but couldn't find an outlet - was made clear I was committing a faux paux.  It was the only time we sang with just my guitar for accompaniment.  It made me plenty nervous as I'm just used to having Kristi's bass lines to go with our performance, but I soldiered through and they seemed to appreciate my songs.  There was one guy with a concertina who played for his wife to sing, and also for himself.  There was one other guitar there, but most of the singers were unaccompanied.  Geoff did both unaccompanied and he also did at least one with his melodeon.  There were lots of interesting songs sung, a few laughs - a fun night all in all.

Geoff really kept us busy while we visited, and he's a fun guy who knows a lot about traditional English music.  He plays for a Morris Dance group and filled in a bit of information about Morris dancing that we didn't know.  When we went to Waltham Abbey we took a guy (Jeremy) who lives on a narrowboat full time.  It was interesting hearing him talk about that life, and also about Morris dancing, which he had take up recently.  The Morris dance group does rehearsals in Waltham Abbey but Geoff had permission on sing-a-round nights to miss the Morris dance sessions.  The Morris dancers showed up at the pub to talk and drink after the sing-a-round.

We finally left Geoff's house on Saturday, September 19th.  We played at the Orpington Liberal Club that day.  That booking was booked and sponsored by Paul Green who was too ill to MC and shockingly we just got the news that Paul passed away from his sickness.  David Gilmour (our good friend from Tacoma) came to that gig, and Geoff also made the trek from Sawbridgeworth to Orpington to hear us play.  The sound guy did an excellent job and we sounded like we like to sound.

Ross Jacques & Colin Brunton

Ross (in above picture) and Colin sounded very good, Ross being a very experienced blues harp guy.

Colin was our soundman, for whom we were (are) very grateful.

Excellent Exciting Excursion Exploration Expedition and Escape on Six Trains

Feb. 20 through March 3rd

"The earthquake was 5.4 on the Richter Scale and there are reports of cracks in roads so the bridge may be damaged", said our Canada Via Rail activities director.  This pulled the rug right out from under my magical mystery tour.  We had just left Vancouver after riding Amtrak up from Seattle, spending the night in a hotel, and visiting the wonders of the Vancouver Art Gallery https://www.vanartgallery.bc.ca/.  

                                               Vancouver Art Gallery: Firelei Baez

Steve and I took advantage of the tour package tickets to ride the elevator up to the Vancouver Lookout https://vancouverlookout.com/.  Things thus far were living up to my escape plans which were to cut the elastic on my ties to all that may seem stressful or humdrum in my life, and experience something excellent and exciting.  Hope springs eternal.  I left behind the work to make bookings for our music, meal preparations, housekeeping, phone messages, and more.  Now the man continued, "We may need to wait a while before we can leave".  As we sat for two and a half hours with nothing to think about but news of an earthquake, the elastic pulled me back psychologically to a wee bit of stress.  Finally we lumbered ahead onto the trestle over the great and mighty Frazer River.  At mid-span Steve said, "Here's where the bridge might collapse under us!"  Maybe he was channeling his great-grandfather's train wreck recorded in his song, "Great Grandfather": https://steveandkristinebel.bandcamp.com/track/great-grandfather.  Someone else from another seat piped in, "They've done some work on it recently so maybe it will hold up".  The redheaded burly young man next to him said, " I'm an engineer.  It will be fine!"  I say with over-confidence, "I believe  you!"  The he sheepishly admitted, "I really don't know that".  By now we've made it over the river safely.  

The trip to Vancouver disgruntled me as we had reserved seats facing eastward toward the industrial effluvia of the cities of the Puget Sound, as opposed to the beauty of the sound itself.  So after taking about as much as I could of it, I wandered to another car full of empty seats and we relocated.  By then we were taking in the waterfront glories of Everett, Bellingham Bay, and Vancouver.  I'm not letting trivialities like reserved seat assignments keep me from enjoying the matchless beauty of our Washington coast, even on a cloudy day.  The next morning we awoke hungry, and the three of us made our way to breakfast in a Turkish bakery down the street from our hotel.  I ate a sublime cake-like pastry with feta cheese and luscious spices leaving me happily sated.  Few things delight me more than tasting a wonderful discovery I may never learn how to cook or find again.

                                                      Selfie on the Vancouver Tower 

                                                       Vancouver from the tower

Then off we went on Via Rail Canada to the next leg of the package.  The first order of business was the attempt to make ourselves at home in the sleeping berth.  We each got a bed and three hot meals every day on the trains, as part of our package.  Ideally perhaps I'd have worn one set of clothing throughout the twelve days of travel and laundered them nightly but then who knows where I'd hang up the undies.  As it was I took three full sets of clothing to alternate and couldn't fit my roller bag  under my seat, meaning it had nowhere to go but on my armrest and then at the end of my bed at  night.  Hence the mess you see in the picture.  As well we were assigned a small bench seat that folded into a bed at night, and somehow wound up in two upper bunks, meaning the lower bunks and opposing seats were assigned to two other people.  

You're looking below at Steve on his bench with his guitar near the ukulele of his bunk-mate, Aaron.  Don't ask me how Amtrak Vacations found two bunkmates for us who were a married couple of folk musicians, about our age with similar political ideas, but it worked out unbelievably well.  We didn't ask for that; it was pure serendipity.  The second photo is what my bunk looked like.  I thought it somewhat too cozy until I moved to the American version of the same thing on Amtrak and then cozy went to quite cramped.  At least here I could sit up to squirm around while dressing in the morning.  

Steve and I bought guitars especially for the purpose of playing on this trip.  They're both very small.  Mine is a bass-uke, with a fret board so tiny I have to stare at it lest my muscle memory takes my fingertips to the wrong places. 

                                                             Me and my UBASS

 Aaron started strumming on his ukulele, inviting us to join in.  One thing led to another until he and his wife Barb invited us to perform just for them.  Soon the very narrow corridor was plugged up with nine listeners as we continued for about a half-hour, pulling together all the train songs we knew plus a couple more.  We had decided not to bring the guitars out to perform in one of the two community spaces in the cars, unless we were invited by the management.  This it turns out was wise.  We let everyone in our listening audience know that we wouldn't be asking for permission ourselves.  But several of our fans did so.  Then the activities director gave us a cheerful but adamant talk all about how and why we can't under any circumstances, play in "public".  Canada Via Rail has an application procedure for their hired musicians and, you see, how can they otherwise know how bad we might be?  Even after we explained this to people, one of our fans continued to harangue the poor guy.  We take no responsibility for that, but it was kind of flattering.  Steve and I are no strangers to the difficulties of performing in Canada as Americans.  Still, people kept presenting us with Canada Via Rail's web page for musicians to apply, which we know would do us no good because we're not Canadians.  That was the only performance we did on the trip.  Barb with her lovely voice sang duets with Aaron on a couple of folk songs familiar to me from Bill Staines.  Our connections with our bunk-mates seemed to transport me back to my memories of college dormitory conversations between bunk roomies.

                                             Typical dome car view on Canada Via Rail

Meals are a particular pleasure on Via Rail Canada, and undeniably a social experience.  The food is hand-prepared by a chef each day, with fresh-cut vegetables and fruits.  All meals were great, with desserts especially spectacular.  I totally threw caution to the wind and gained three pounds.  The waiters usher passengers into a small table for four and almost instantly usher a couple of strangers to sit across from each other.  In such circumstances introductions and conversation ultimately follow.  By the end of the trip I was on first-name basis with about a dozen riders.  

One of them had listened to our music in the corridor and found her way to our dinner table to pepper us intensely with questions.  She cut a striking figure, a thin and willowy Canadian with a shock of gray hair pulled back from her inquisitive bright blue eyes.  She had heard one of Steve's songs that seemed to launch a difficult dialogue within herself regarding the limits of capitalism, and Steve and I were quite willing to take on one side.  The song is "Dark Days", and she loves it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HmSz0dIPFFk.  She reluctantly answered a few of our questions revealing that she's an actress preparing for a lead role in a movie soon to be shot in Edmonton.    We got out for a short stroll in Winnipeg and while clutching my arm as we navigated the icy road, she explained that movie producers take out insurance policies on the health and lives of their leading actors, making them promise to avoid specific risky behaviors.  So we quickly found a safe spot to walk, and as we passed a parking lot I couldn't help noticing Canadian flags on car antennae, no doubt making their stand against American trade tariffs and other such nonsensical intrusive hubris.  Anyway she was a bright spot in our memories on Canada Via Rail.

  

Train song lyrics hound and haunt me.  "And the sons of pullman porters and the sons of engineers ride their fathers' magic carpets made of steel" [Steve Goodman, City of New Orleans].  That's Steve, the great grandson of the engineer who among others took Lincoln's remains across the country for the public to view after his assassination.  "Mothers with their babes asleep are rocking to the gentle beat and the rhythms of the wheels are all they feel".  I woke up one morning when that rhythm stopped as we waited in Cleveland.  It should have been perfect for sleep; no sound and no movement, utterly still.  I guess something deep inside connected that rocking, rolling and gentle jarring to the comforts of the womb.  I wanted it to begin again, partly because in my position lying on my belly, I felt so directly connected to the earth below me.  "From the great Atlantic Ocean to the wide Pacific Shore...as she glides over the woodlands on the hills and by the shore" [Box Car Willie, Wabash Cannonball].  

Via Rail Canada has no internet access, probably in part due to cars that remain well-preserved and just as they were when built in  1955.  The experience throws one into interior ponderings, or if you will, trains of thought.  With many hours to pass, the alternatives are reading books, playing board games, wine tastings, lectures by the activities director, or just being alone with ones' thoughts.  It feels like a throwback to culture before obsessions and addictions to digital electronic devices.

We made it, after our first night on board, to the peak of the Rockies past Jasper.  The activities director warned us that Jasper's housing had half burned down last summer and that the town was in grief, with many residents having left town for good.  We saw signs out the window of the thousands of black tree corpses still standing yet burnt, right up next to the train tracks.  The remaining green ones at this latitude and altitude in many cases appeared to me kind of scrawny and underfed, though that's just the natural appearance of alpine firs.  Still I'm grateful for their greenery after the dismal vast expanses of mountains with nothing left on them but what appears from a distance to be thinning black hair on these giant mountainous heads.  So far we were only two hours late due to the earthquake which made no difference to us since we had two days to kill in Toronto before catching our next train.  The rivers and streams were frozen and the snowy peaks towering over us right and left reminded me of why I was making this trip.  

It included several stops for embarkments as well as dis-embarkments.  The first stretch to Winnipeg seemed to have an international array of passengers from England, Germany, New Zealand, America, and Canada.  The last stretch to Montreal seemed to usher in a younger demographic of Canadians using the train for utilitarian rather than entertainment purposes.

                                                        Rolling through the Rockies

                                                                   Burnt Rockies

                                 Valemount Hotel where we played music a while back

In Toronto we had two nights to spend in a comfortable hotel suite downtown, and tickets to take another trip up to an iconic landmark designed by the same architect who created the one we went up in Vancouver.   It's called the CN Tower. Taking the taxi across town we drank in the beauty of the city's buildings.  

                                                                   The Mall

We went looking for a nice sit-down dining experience, following signs through a mall that seemed to be enormously tall and long; witness the ceiling on the above photo.  Just the search was a big adventure.  It took us so long that by the time we found a place that sunlight pictured above was gone. We finally settled on an elegant-looking Italian place, not the one we wanted which was closed for renovation.  Steve ordered what he thought might be an interesting meal but due to translation difficulties turned out to be plain old macaroni and cheese.  Oh, well, seize the day!  It was our last day in Canada before catching another train to New York.

                                                              Toronto CN Tower

We arrived in the big apple at around 10 pm with just enough time to make our way to our hotel and turn in.  Our schedule was a bit packed.  The connection left us barely enough time to take in the sights of the city.  We had tickets as part of our package, to the "Hop-on, Hop-off" bus, which we mistakenly assumed would pick us up at Penn Station.  Instead it required us to walk a mile.  After sitting on a train for six days no doubt it was just what the doctor ordered to regulate our systems, but made me plenty nervous, as I didn't really know where we were going nor whether we'd have time to do this and make our connection for the train.  It turned out to be at the M & M Store.  Yes, you read that right; a three-story big store devoted to nothing but M & M candies and swag.  Fortunately it had a bathroom too because after spending three hours of walking and touring we were about to wet our pants.  The tour was fine, though a might chilly on the roof of a bus in the winter, and as one might predict, pretty slow-moving through downtown Manhattan traffic.  Then we quickly walked back another mile.  That stress took some enjoyment from the experience though the sun came out and the tour was otherwise reasonably worthwhile.

                                 Knish for breakfast in Penn Station 

                                  The chilly top of the bus tour of NYC

                                We love the message, "Stop Wars" vs "Star Wars".

On the Amtrak American side now, we glided through what looked like Bible-drenched other-side-of-the-tracks humble abodes.  It's Hoosier Country and we were due to be in Chicago in an hour and a half, waiting for the Empire Builder to carry us home.  

                                      Note the Amtrak red stripe now we've left Canada         

                                         Sunset on Amtrak

 

                                              Hoosier Country

                                        Slightly different look to Amtrak "Roomette"

                      In Canada it's called "Dome Car" and on Amtrak "Observation Car"

The train stopped in Spokane in the wee hours of the morning to take on riders and release the back half of cars for a separate train going to Salt Lake City.  Knowing I'd missed the beauty of Glacier Park in the dark, I was eager for one last glimpse of mountain scenery before arriving home.  So I forced myself out of bed to head for the observation car to watch the Cascades roll by.  It was then that I felt the shock of amputation as it had left us.  It was a rude awakening.  But in the dawn's dim early light the great and mighty Columbia River began to show herself out our roomette window, and then the Wenatchee Valley wherein there are no bad views in any direction, even from my north-facing dining car window.

                                    Dawn's early light over the Wenatchee Valley

For the last few hours we glided past many lovely views of the Skykomish River raging and cutting through the steep banks of the North Cascades.

Then we're back home again!

------------- Big Water --------------

We arrived in New Orleans for the 2020 Folk Alliance International Conference and drove straight to the Sheraton Hotel in downtown Big Easy. We brought a lot of stuff with us, which we got out of the car and onto one of those hotel carts, as well as having our own cart full of stuff. I left Kristi with all the “stuff” and drove off to find parking. It took me awhile, but I found a place that was $20 a day cheaper than the hotel parking and walked back to the Sheraton. These first minutes were spent soaking in the fact that we were in New Orleans where we had never been before but had heard so much about. Kristi commented that it was a bit like Montreal, but with no snow.

Next on the agenda was getting registered for the Folk Alliance International 2020 Conference. Someone commented before we ever got to the line that we would be impressed with the length of it, and indeed, it was a pretty long line. It wasn’t long before we were having a chat with a large fellow with a big smile who was in line behind us. As you might expect at such an event, he had a colorful name. He introduced himself as “Big” Water, but you can call me “Big”. He is a big guy (hence the name). As it turned out, he is from Portland, Oregon which we think of as one of our neighboring cities even if it is a couple of hours away from us by automobile. Before we got through the line Big was chatting away with everyone within talking distance of him. After registration I took a moment and asked him if he’d like to be interviewed for our blog. He agreed, and here are the results. Big is a little bit awkward. On the other hand, it’s a very friendly thing.

Big: “I have many friends who call me Big.” Steve: What brought you to the FAI Conference? Big: Just kind of a non-sequitur through a guy I met at Burning Man. Burning Man is out in Reno, I'm sure you've heard of Burning Man. It's what I call the creative Olympics of the world. It’s artists from all over the world bringing big art, small art. The way they have their situation dialed last year 75 mayors from around the country came to Burning Man to see the layout of this infrastructure and to see the workings of how the city works. Because it’s a city, it’s 80,000 people. It’s not small. and in the middle of the city they have a center camp area. That’s a main common area for everyone. In that area there’s a stage to perform on, so every year I do a set, a Big Water Set. Five years ago, I met my friend Bruce. He's an attorney from Memphis with purple hair. He comes up to me after my show, gives me a hug and tells me, “I really enjoyed your set.” We sort of befriended each other and it's over the past five years straight I’ve been going to Burning Man, and every year he comes to my set so we just kept talking, talking, and trading info and I have a friend from Clarksdale, Mississippi who grew up in Clarksdale who kept telling me, “Come to Clarksdale to come see the Blues Fest, come see this fest!”. So last October I went to Clarksdale for the Delta Blues Fest just to see, (I wasn’t playing) and I got ahold of Bruce ‘cause I was flying out of Memphis and he lives in Memphis. We met and he does a radio show on WEVL there every Wednesday. It’s an acoustic/folk program. He had me on the show for a couple of hours. I got to play some tunes, and talk. We sat in the radio station and had a blast. Then I went down to Clarksdale and saw the Delta Blues Festival, and that was great. I got to play a couple of places. Then they invited me back to the Juke Joint Festival in April. Bruce and I became new friends. I’ve been out of the country for two months. I just got back on Saturday. Two weeks ago, he wrote me and told me “You should come to this Folk Alliance festival thing in New Orleans’. I said, ‘OK, what’s the dates?’ I looked at the dates changed my flights and got a hotel and he said, ‘if you can come, I’ll buy your ticket and sponsor you’. He bought my ticket and sponsored me. He's a previous FAI board member, and his wife runs the Blues Museum in Memphis. So, they’re both here; they just got in last night. And that's my introduction to Folk Alliance International. I have several friends who are artists who have been here. I’ve got a friend here from Ohio. She has showcases tonight, and tomorrow night, and over the weekend. I’ll see her. I’ve heard about FAI, but I’ve just never been here before.

Steve: “I'm just curious what you do for money? Obviously, you get paid for playing music, but it’s expensive to buy a roundtrip plane ticket to Germany”.

Big: “Yeah I'm blessed, and I’m funded. I am not a trust fund kid. My stepfather passed away about two years ago, so money came from the company, from the business. My mom has been my business partner for years. When I started doing this 35 years ago, with a year left to go in college I went to Germany for two months and stayed for three years. “I said, hey mom I’m going to be a ski instructor.” She said, “Oh great, you’re gonna teach skiing, awesome.” Then I started singing out in bars and then ended up moving back to the states and kept playing, writing songs, playing out and decided that’s what I wanted to do. I wanted to pursue music. My mom says “great”. 30 some years later she still supports what I’m doing. Whatever I decide to do, I take seriously. I taught skiing for 20 years. I got my master’s in teaching skiing. Once I grab onto something and take it seriously, she educates herself and becomes a fan of what I do because she’s that kind of a mom.”

Steve: “Have you ever been signed?” 

Big: “No, I’ve never been signed.” Steve: “Have you ever looked for a record deal?” Big: “Not in the ways I probably should. I don’t mind being under the radar. I don’t want to go out and play 200 shows a year. At this point in life I don’t want to do that. I’m 57 years old now. 30 years ago, if I’d have gotten signed, well that would be a different story. I book all my own stuff. I’d like to do more than I do which would be getting help, obviously, but label help? I have 5 albums out that I have produced, written, and paid for. I haven’t done a crowd fund. I’ve always worked my ass off to pay for my records. I was a gardener for 9 years in Lake Tahoe, and San Francisco. Most of my recording has been done in Ohio, because I’m from Ohio. My engineer that I used on my third album needed a gardener so I would do his gardening to pay for time. When he needed a French drain on the inside of the foundation of his house, I worked in a crawl space digging trenches for three weeks to pay for my record. I’ve never been an ‘ask for help’ kind of person. It means more to me when I do things this way. I’m certainly not averse to help in any way for booking things, for advice, management, any of those things. I’ve just been bouncing and pinballing my way through these things I do. I have a great buddy who I play music with. We’ve been playing together for 26 years since I started in Lake Tahoe. He sings, he writes, we both play, do harmonies. We are both guitar players.”

Steve: “How long have you been in Portland?” 

Big: “Been there for eleven years now. I had a girlfriend. We went all over the country looking for where we were going to live. She’s an actress, I was in music. We went to East Coast, Florida, Savanna, Georgia, Minneapolis, St. Paul, Nashville, Boulder, Co, Denver, Nashville, San Francisco, Seattle, LA and Portland was the only place out of all that travel where we both did a double thumbs up. We were on the road for six months looking for a place to live. We were together for a year then we broke up. She’s still there. She’s in film. She produces, and acts. She’s killin’ it.”

Steve: “Do you think you’ll stay in Portland?”

Big: “You know, I’m not a big city person but I’ve got a great friend base there, I’ve got a good fan base there, I’ve got a killer studio downtown that allows me to leave and go away and not worry about being away from home when I want to travel so yeah I don’t see me leaving Portland. I don’t want to move to Seattle. I’ve lived in San Francisco. If I moved somewhere, I’d move where there’s no people.”

Steve: “What I’ve listened to has a very strong feeling of commerce. Do you think about that when you write, or does it come naturally for you to write in genres and with subject matter that has a broad appeal?”

Big: “It’s not something I strive for because it’s not the way I think. I write whatever comes out and I’m inspired by everything. I’m inspired by the stuff around me in my studio. I’ve got a trainyard in back, I’ve got a river in front, I’ve got downtown, a beautiful place where I’m at, and I’m inspired by nature. I’m inspired by love. I’m inspired by anything that’s on the plus side and positive. When I sit down, I’ll just start playing stuff and it just comes out. I don’t think of whatever particular genre it is when I’m writing it. That’s maybe why it comes out in that broad way. It’s not something that I think about or shoot for. I just comes out that way.  I think it’s from having a broad background as a kid listening to rock, disco, classical music, old school crooners from my mom’s record collection. I was in amazing choirs when I was in school. At that time music, sports were really great in schools.”

Steve: “Is your friend who you work with a very big influence on you? You’ve had a long association with him.”

Big: “We’ve never written a song together. We’ve never really tried to write together. He likes working on his own. He’ll bring a song in and we’ll work on it. We’re open to each other’s suggestions. Do we have an influence on each other? Does he have an influence on me? Yes. Do I have an influence on him? Yes. We have an influence on each other, but he writes his songs and I write mine.”

Steve: “It can be dicey sometimes letting the people you work with know that you aren’t happy with something that they are doing. How do you deal with issues as a bandleader?”

Big: “When I play with the band I recognize that I don’t play the drums, I don’t play the bass, and I don’t play guitar like my partner does so I don’t tell people what to play because I don’t want to crush their creative inspiration. I will tell my players what not to play, but I don’t tell them what to play. I’ll tell them, play that thing you were doing, not the one you’re doing now etc. (Gives me a demonstration of how a conversation with a bandmember goes)

Steve: “It’s very hard not to quash someone’s creative input.” 

 

Big: “When I’m playing with other people, I make sure that their input is valued, and let them express themselves how they express themselves.”

Steve: “I noticed that FAI made a point of listing their genres as folk, roots, and blues. They have made it very clear that they are open to a broad array of genres. I’ve seen hip hop here, a folk band using sampled instruments.”

Big: “Isn’t that the modern thing? Cross genre stuff? Mixing elements together. I love that. “

Steve: “I’m not certain. I’ve never been a purist myself.”

Big: “There’s more than one way.”

Steve: “Have barrooms been your main venue that you played?”

Big: “Barrooms, festivals, house concerts, cafes, private parties, whatever I can find. Honestly, a few years ago I just stopped booking music for money and started booking music at places, or opportunities that I wanted to play at. It changed everything. The shows were great. I got a little money in my pocket. It wasn’t the same mentality. It wasn’t the same intention.”

Steve: “We are on the same page. When we were working full-time playing music, we couldn’t do this kind of thing. We inherited a little money, and without that we couldn’t be here.”

Big: “Absolutely. If I didn’t have an inheritance, I couldn’t do this. I’ve always had to work before this. I’ve done every kind of job you don’t want to do in the past.”

Steve: “You’ve been in Portland for eleven years. Are you an established member of the Portland music scene?”

Big: “I wouldn’t say I’m an established member of the Portland music scene. The Portland music scene is quirky and funny to me. You’re either in the little group, or you’re not in the little group. I’ve never been good like that. I just do my own thing. I have a following. I have friends, and fans who come out and support what I do. I’ve got friends and people who travel so much. I can go to Northern California, I can go down to Southern California, I can go to the Midwest, I can go to Montana. I haven’t been to Seattle so much, but I have played there a couple of times. I’ve been invited to great festivals to play with some great musicians, sit down with Grammy winning producers, Grammy winning writers, but something always seems to not work out. I don’t know if I sabotage it somehow. I don’t feel like I’m in the circle of where everybody else is at. I am not always the best at participatory music unless I am playing my own songs. I don’t do cover songs, and I play guitar to accompany myself. It may be that narrow focus that keeps me doing my own thing. I try not to think about it too much and just try to keep doing what I’m doing.”

Steve: “What do you see for your future?”

Big: “Oh, absolutely. For me? I’d love to do another album. I’m trying to finish writing some new songs until I have enough to take to the studio. I’m maybe halfway ready. I have a crazy idea for a project. I’ve got an old 1968 vintage trailer. I have an old Ford truck that I bought when it was new. My truck is red, my trailer is white, and blue. I did a red, white, and blue tour a couple years ago in 2015. My trailer’s name is Lucy. I want to take my truck and Lucy and do a “Live from Lucy” tour. I would have Lucy decked out in cameras and recording equipment and travel around the country to these places where I know touring musicians and Grammy winning people and anyone who will take a minute to sit in my trailer and talk to me, and play a song with me or write a song with me or whatever would come out of it and do a sort of John Lomax kind of deal.  We’ll see what we come out with on the backside. Maybe a new album, or a documentary would come out of it. I’m not sure what would come out of it. Right now, I’m looking at budgets, time etc. I have the resources and the people to go get in touch with. It would be a two-month project. I would collect information and send work to a couple of people who would send the daily recordings to someone to have them start to process it in the studio. I’m a grass roots-y guy. I like face to face. I like seeing people. I like hugging people. I like the tactile part of personal interaction. I’m a loving person. I prefer that to a digital relationship. You can interpret the dialog in a different way in person. “

Big Waters is a really friendly guy. If you see him, be sure to say hello, get a big hug, or if you’re lucky get him to sing you one of his songs, or even better, catch an entire show. In the meantime you can catch his latest schedule at: https://www.bigwater.cc/ or on Facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/aguagrande/

For more folk music blogs see:  https://blog.feedspot.com/folk_music_blogs/