Back in June, I ditched my apartment, job and a lot of clutter to move into a van named Flo and hit the road on tour. Fast forward four months, and here I sit at a friend’s kitchen table in Prince George, feeling like I never left. I left Prince George with the East Coast in my crosshairs, and on the voyage to Halifax, Nova Scotia and back, Flo and I saw 20,412 kilometres roll by. She didn’t so much as whimper under all that labour, let alone falter. What a noble steed she is. However, she doesn’t hold the heat in too well.
Now that I am back in a rather Northern climate, I find myself retreating to friends’ couches and keeping Flo parked more often than not. Why do I feel guilty? Humans are certainly strange, in our humanizing of and attachment to inanimate objects. I embrace the strangeness though, and hope to take her out for a last camping weekend of the year, while these Fall colors are lighting up.
While there was a lot of time spent alone, pondering and observing, this tour was also strewn with many great people, and new friendships and acquaintances that I feel lucky to have established. I can honestly say that I left every town I spent time in thinking “I’ll miss those people”. Oh, to be all the places at once, to partake in the jam sessions, card games, glasses of wine, dancing and bonfires that I know I am missing out on.
Over the 34 shows I played abroad, the stages ranged from back corners of coffee shops to dive bar stages with dogs roaming about, to fully-equipped rooms with perfect lighting and amazing sound technicians. Set times ranged from 15 minutes to three hours, in towns with as few as 55 people to cities with as many as six million. Landscapes ranged from flat, vast canola fields, to white-sand Atlantic beaches, to the cradle of the rugged Rocky Mountains. I feel fortunate to have experienced such a diversity of situations and scenes, this tour.
Now to tackle Winter without going stir-crazy.