Tour Journal
Wednesday 5th April 2017 Nanaimo, BC Queens
From ephemeral, snow-feathered, Calgary capes we whisk into Vancouver.
Jesse Matas - spent a day with him in Leith a few months back, member to the band ‘Crooked Brothers’ (currently on a year’s sabbatical), connected by Taylor Ashton, - is at airport with car.
A spot in the car where he spilt a bottle of olive oil on the floor; still damp and fragrant after many years.
To fresh donuts. Good coffee. Then an hour North to Squamish. Here we stay.
A house with outhouses, of various forms, in a big yard. Owned by one of Jesse’s many Manitoban friends, Eric. Eric is tall, with kind eyes and claims not to have a heart. Or to like music.
I spend night in a house under construction. Rafters hold a mattress and plump sleeping bag. A windowless view; pine tips and mist clad, snow-patched mountain peak; to sleep and wake to.
We hike The Chief. Walk in the strange, awe-jaw pressure of an old growth forest.
I take run in rain, conceive song, wrapped in the rhythm of sweated-step.
List of Luke’s many Firsts, so far: - Butter in Coffee, sat in Courtney Hartman’s kitchen (NYC), as she and Taylor Ashton plan our day out in The Big Apple like we were their precious children. - Quinoa (he pronounces it kinnowwa) - Waffles and maple syrup for breakfast (Calgary motel) - Now; coffee and coconut oil. …More to come.
Jesse decides to road trip to Vancouver island. Means I don’t have to worry about the small (yet big) ordeal of renting an automatic car. Also, a chance to know this man a little more before sharing tour, later in the trip, to Northern BC.
Nanaimo, a ferry ride away.
Seek a camp site, open and reasonably priced. ‘Living Forest Campsite’. Settle in.
Jesse remains on site. Will play his nylon string and, later, take walk to highway, find a retail park and sushi.
Next comes another First: driver’s seat on the left, righthand gear-stick, right side of the road.
Jesse waves goodbye with an easy, trusting smile.
Luke has broken sweat as we park outside ‘Queens’. But we’ve made it without stall, stagger or excessive peril.
Jen, Dan, Tavo and Mike already at Queen’s. Andrew, promoter, floats, shaking hands, offering information. Offering drinks.
Play pool. Set up merch.
Split. I sup soup. Luke works. Intern tour manager: overseeing coming days; last minute bookings, check ups and check-ins.
Soundcheck. Swift enough to illicit a little suspicion.
But all swims well.
Room is filled. Buzz. Extremely attentive, responsive crowd. Alighting from stage, Luke leans over merchandise table. Exclaims to my ear how he liked it. My triumph of the night.
My time to drive.
Drive highway feeling assured in direction and distance. Eventually come to accept we are lost.
Luke pleads with shop-attendant in late night gas station for the tapping of her phone’s internet.
I misinterpret redirections. End up driving a one way (wrong way) for another few km before flipping a bitch (U-turn - jargon I learnt from the eminent Rose Cousins).
Finally beam headlights upon the gates of camp. Luke intends to hold the barrier aloft as I drive under. Then someone drives out. Scoot in before it descends again.
The thrill.
Frogs, spawning and croaking in their thousands off in the dark distance.
Pile in. Jesse hums a melody under breath; to reassure us he is awake and alive.
Fall fast and heavy to sleep. As does Luke. Jesse endures nightmares.
