#driftpile

Billy-Ray Belcourt

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Queer

DOB: N/A  

Ethnicity: First Nation - Driftpile

The Always A Bridesmaid Tour (June 7th - June 22nd 2006)

The Pictures

The Mission: Take up to 15 people (10 to start... 5 people would not be joining us until June 15th) to the North Country Fair in Driftpile, Alberta... then go and attend/play/best man at John Guliak and Christine Ferguson's wedding in Edmonton.  Between the 15 people, we could create at least 6 full bands... Carolyn Mark and Her New Best Friends, Hank & Lily, Amy Honey, Clay George, Hearse and The Dave Lang Band

The Cast: Vehicle #1 "Gwyneth Paltrow" (a 1980 Dodge Ram Van) - transportation for Tolan McNeil, Hoff, The Goose and Clay George. Vehicle # 2 "Freedom" (1990 Dodge Caravan) - transportation for Hank Pine, Lily Fawn and Emma Crow Vehicle #3 "The Hong Kong Lady" (1992 Toyota Camry) - Transportation for Amy Honey, Carolyn Mark and Andrew

June 7  Vancouver - Osoyoos 10-4 Good Buddy, We've Got Walkie-Talkies Things look good.  It's a sunny day.  Most of the Victoria contingent (everybody but me and Amy) arrived in Vancouver early.  We've bought some walkie-talkies for communication reasons (only Tolan has a cell phone)... and The Goose's Dad reaffixed the front license plate to the Hong Kong Lady.  In fact, everything went smoothly until it was time to leave.  Tolan and crew are going to be late... the free van he got for the tour has some paperwork issues that were not apparent until the last moment.  He has to spend the afternoon running all over Victoria getting shit signed.  Consequently, although the first two vehicles hit the road by 2:00, Gwyneth won't even be getting on the ferry to Vancouver until 5:00.  Anyway, the big plan is to stay in touch via the walkie-talkies (we have radio check times and nasty handles... Carolyn is "Bouncy C-Word", fr'instance, and Hank is "Fuckyou Killjoy"), and hook up for some camping in Osoyoos.  We hit the road and try our radio check... nothing.  In fact, except in one case, for the whole trip, the walkie-talkies would do nothing except eat batteries. The drive was mostly uneventful; the only excitement was that near Princeton, we were stopped by some police at a roadblock who were looking for an escaped murderer.  Also, around this time it started to rain.  Every day of the tour (except for one) it would end up raining, everything from scotch mist to full on thunder and lightning storms. Upon arrival in Osoyoos (approximately 8:00) we scoped out the camping spots in town.  It looked like trouble... all the camp grounds were full of the elderly, golf shirt, sandals and socks crowd and/or the younger, screaming kids, golf shirt, sandals and socks crowd.  It didn't look as though they would take kindly to 10 rowdy drunks disturbing their vacation... and we were sure as hell not going to want listen to their whining (nor deal with the inevitable cops).  Hell, those are the people you get out of town to get away from.  After checking out all the available possibilities (which, by the way, came across like suburban neighbourhoods where you can actually see and hear your neighbours), we (Amy, Carolyn and I) decided to tee up a hotel room instead.  Up to this point we had had no contact with the other two vehicles.  Phoning Tolan, we found that his new van had overheated in Chilliwack, and they had not yet managed to leave the Lower Mainland.  Their ETA in Osoyoos is around 2:00 AM.  Radio check for the Hank and Lilymobile turned up nothing until suddenly we started getting very garbled messages. Apparently they were also in town, looking for us.  We pulled into the parking lot of a likely hotel called The Spanish Fiesta (or Spastic Fiasco), and suddenly Hank and Lily came in crystal clear... they were parked about 50 ft. away. Things worked out pretty good, and it seemed as though we had the hotel to ourselves, so we retired to the beach for wine and beer and smoking.   Later in the evening Carolyn broke my car key off in the door of the car.  No worries, as we had a spare.  Always have a failsafe, that's what I say.  

June 8  Osoyoos - Nelson Plastic Gardening Clogs R Us (Well... Them, Actually) In the morning we found that Gwyneth had managed to make it all the way to Osoyoos, and her crew had slept in the van in the hotel parking lot. We all made some informal wagers at that point as to which if any of the tour vehicles would make it all the way home without a major breakdown. They all had issues... Gwyneth's were readily apparent by that point, but Freedom was also desperately in need of a new fan belt, and was gouting out huge clouds of exhaust whenever it was started.  The Hong Kong Lady, we had recently heard from our mechanic, could happily use two or three grand worth of mechanical repairs.  But what's life without adventure?  That's the question we decided to ask ourselves instead of dealing with our shit. Upon arrival in Nelson, we immediately sought out the thrift stores (for Amy and Carolyn), and the excellent coffee store (Cafe Oso), for me. There was something very odd about Nelson, a fashion thing, that cut across all sectors of society... men and women... geezers and whelps... squareheads and fleabags... the brightly coloured plastic gardening clog.  Perhaps the ugliest piece of footwear outside of putting plastic bags on your feet when it rains.  Even pretty girls can't rock them.  In Nelson they are everywhere.  I wanted to ask some of the people who look like (clogs aside) they should have a clue; what the Hell was going on, but in the end I figured that I really didn't want to know the answer. Since I'm mentioning fashion... let me talk for a moment about The Goose's white derby hat.  It was one of his prized possessions, and an essential part of his on stage garb... part of his shock and awe... and it really tied his whole look together.  Looking somewhat like an egg, The Goose usually treated as if he were a mother hen (or a Mother Goose, heh).  This morning he had broken with tradition and let Lily Fawn play with it.  Once we got to Nelson, Goose (and Lily) had the sickening realization that it was still in Osoyoos.  Fortunately Lily, being so small and cute, was about the only person on the tour who could get away with losing it. Soon enough, we hooked up with our "friend in town", Laoh, a Victoria expatriate, who was going to be able to put some of us up for the evening.  Laoh had only been living in Nelson for 6 months, but already seemed to know everyone there.  I knew Nelson was a smaller town, but even still, knowing everyone there would be a bit of work.  Laoh is just one of those guys who can do that.  Hell, I had never met him before, and after ten minutes, we were yakkin' along like old buds. The show, at the Royal, was a ton of fun.  A lot of people showed up, and regardless of their age, they seemed to like their Rock... or to be a bit more accurate, their Cowpunk.  Amy had one of her best shows of the whole tour.  Tolan was on fire on guitar... and Hank and Lily were really fucking amazing.  Hank and Lily added a really interesting element to all the shows.  Carolyn Mark and Clay George could most certainly be described as Country (of various speeds), and Amy can be anything from Country to Metal, but with a definite populist edge that opens a lot of doors.  Hank and Lily are much more of a travelling freak show, with costumes, personas, smoke machines and quasi-nightmarish songs about things that lurk in the dark; yet everywhere they went, they didn't seem to weird anyone out, even in the most taxidermy encrusted small town farmer bars.  In fact, they often got the loudest applause, and the most audience participation.  Just goes to show you that no matter where you go, people just like a good show. I don't remember much of the rest of the evening, but I ended up losing my glasses at Laoh's house.  No worries, as I still had my contact lenses.  Always have a failsafe, that's what I say.    

June 9  Nelson - Slocan Valley This Bug Spray Doesn't Work For Shit Tried to get a new key cut for the car, but found that my replacement key had apparently been made by "someone who was drunk or stupid, or both" and copies made from it were nonfunctional.  I hate not having a failsafe. Today we would be heading up to an isolated Eco Lodge in the Slocan valley, run by "hippies", but "not the annoying kind, you know".  There would be a BBQ and the bands would play in the living room / concert hall.  Laoh knew the best butcher in Nelson, and he set me up with some specially marinated Buffalo steaks.  Things were looking good. After a long drive up a dirt road we found the Lodge, and in the beautiful sun it looked like the best place in the world.  Outside of the guy who operated the place and an eccentric mystic lady from Buckinghamshire, a nice lady from Quebec and a sinewy traveling cyclist from who knows where, the place was deserted.  I asked Carolyn who the bands would be playing to.  She said it was a really weird thing... every time she had played there before, the parking lot would be empty, but people would "just come out of the woods".  At the end of the evening, they would return to the woods.  We had some time on our hands before the show, though, so we amused ourselves by playing badminton, flying kites and in Hank's case, going swimming.  On our way to the river we ran into a very pale Hank returning from his swim.  Apparently there were leeches in the water and he ended up with one on his scrotum.  We decided not to go swimming.  Around this time we figured we were running seriously low on beer, and Tolan and I volunteered to take the Hong Kong Lady into town to get more.  We cranked the CCR and drove like the Dukes of Hazard.  We came very, very close to hitting a deer, and the gravel road did some serious damage to the muffler.  For the rest of the trip, at city speeds, the Hong Kong Lady would sound like she was gargling Drano.  We made it back just in time for dinner, and The Goose showed another one of his many talents by BBQ-ing the Buffalo steak to perfection.  It was one of the best meals I had ever had, but only the second best one of the trip. It was around this time that we all collectively realized that the bug spray that we had been using was of little to no use.  Mosquitoes were eating us alive.  Hoff, Hank, Lily and Carolyn were all particular favourites of the little monsters, and after a short while, they all appeared to have contracted chicken pox. Just as Carolyn had said, after dinner, people started "coming out of the woods".  Even more to my surprise, I actually recognized a couple of them.  They were two brothers who used to play in a Vancouver band, The Way Out.  They were attending some Eco-camp "over there" (with that statement they waved vaguely in the direction of the woods).  Soon enough there was around 50 people there, and the show commenced.  The Lodge had a decent stage and a good sound system, and the show was great.  All the people there were very attentive, and Clay George especially seemed to have a good show.  The right music for the right people in the right place.  He even sold a few CD's.  Here is as probably as good a place as any to mention... Clay was actually the only person on the tour who had his shit together enough to bring any CD's with him.

June 10  Slocan Valley - Nanton R.I.P. Lolita We all left the Lodge at different times, but somehow we all managed to arrive at the retro thrift store in Creston at nearly the same time.   Unfortunately there had been a tragedy.  Hoff had received a phone call from her roommate informing her that here Chihuahua, Lolita, had passed away.  She had been ailing a bit, but it still came as a nasty surprise.  The Goose said it well (at least from my point of view) when he stated that "Lolita was the only little dog that didn't annoy the shit out of me".  Apparently, Lolita's remains were then kept in the freezer for Hoff to deal with when she got home.  Seriously. It was a pretty long drive today, and probably the most dangerous one, as we had to go through the Crow's Nest Pass, and near dusk, around the town of Elkville, suddenly there were elk all over the place... including the road.  We had to drive very slowly, but we still got a number of scares.  Dark brown does not show up too well against a gray and black background.   The cool moment of the drive was passing the Frank Slide, which buried the town of Frank, Alberta in 1903.  103 years later and it's still pretty impressive. As the drive continued we began to become concerned that our host, Ali, was going to be inconvenienced.  We had initially informed here that we would be arriving around 7:00, but it appeared that we wouldn't be getting there until midnight.  Ali lived on a farm half way between Nanton, Alberta and Vulcan, Alberta.  A place that could quite easily qualify as "the middle of nowhere".  The driving instructions we had included the final missive... "pull up the driveway, and don't run over the puppy".   Upon our late night arrival, we were immediately greeted by the puppy, a three-month-old blue heeler / border collie mix named Cash (after Johnny, of course) owned by Ali's neighbour, Wayne.  He was kind of bitey... but cute.  Wayne and Ali, we found in Ali's kitchen, very drunk (they've been drinking in expectation of our imminent arrival since 5:00), and surrounded by the mostly eaten appetizers Ali had prepared for us hours ago.  After making our apologies for the late arrival, we thought it polite to get as drunk as our hosts as quickly as possible. Once again we are eaten alive by bugs, but Amy seems to have come up with a repellent that actually seems to work, Ungava.  Once I started using this, I hardly got any bites.

June 11  Nanton The Big Gun Fight Today we were faced by a tough decision.   In one direction lay the town of Vulcan, who were celebrating "Spock Days", an annual event honouring all things Star Trek.  Vulcan really riffs off its vague association to the show.  It even has a statue of the starship Enterprise downtown, as well as a Star Trek themed science centre.  Some years, for Spock Days, they even get someone from the show (one time it was Councilor Troi) to come and preside over the festivities. In the other direction lay the town of Nanton, where the bands would be playing that evening, which featured an excellent vintage store (Buffalo Gals) that was also about to close, so everything in it was for sale at discounts ranging from 80 - 100%.  Needless to say, the ladies of the expedition had no interest in going to Vulcan.  I always like to suck up to the ladies, so I volunteered to drive them to Nanton, while the rest of the gang went to Spock Days.  From their later report it sounded like an anticlimactic visit to Spock Days.  All the cool stuff had happened yesterday, so all they got to see were the pancake breakfast and a home run hitting contest. Now, I like shopping as much as the next guy... well, probably slightly more than the next guy... which means that I have a tolerance for it that lasts somewhere between 15 minutes to an hour (depending upon the store).  Buffalo Gals turned out to be a very pleasant surprise, though.  There was a lot of really cool men's Western gear, as well as an interesting selection of generally cool knickknacks.  The prize find in my books was an antique, 1940's Hungarian made, crack action pellet gun.  Amy was unimpressed... very unimpressed and showed visible relief when I was told that the gun was not for sale today, because it might be included in a bulk sale to a theatre company.  But I could put in an offer and pick it up the next day it the theatre people didn't want it. I was crestfallen, but Dreanne, the lovely lady who ran the place, seeing my distress, asked me if I liked "things that go bang".  Upon my sullen affirmation, she handed me over a big box of vintage Hand's fireworks from the 1970's... which included the Burning Schoolhouse. Free. It was about the best thing ever. Between all the thrifting we had all been doing, plus all of our regular luggage and the musical equipment we were carrying, space in all three vehicles had become very, very cramped.  Our car was so full, that in order to fit Carolyn in, we pretty much had to grease her up and take a running start. The show at The Auditorium that evening was great.  The bar was really old school with taxidermy all over the place, and one of the local farmers, Lance, joined the bands on stage with his pedal steel guitar.   Lance apparently plays in a lot of bands, but only when they travel through town.  He's an amazing player, in fact of the best I've ever seen, and the coolest thing was when he played with Hank and Lily.   Despite the fact that he had never seen or heard them before... and despite the fact that they play a kind of music that is, in my opinion, not a type that I would immediately associate with pedal steel... Lance fucking smoked!  I don't think I've heard a pedal steel played like that before, and I stood in awe.      

June 12  Nanton The Best Steak in the World It was a day off.  We were all feeling kind of bad at what we had done to Ali's house.  When we arrived, everything was as neat as a pin.   Minimalist.  Spartan even.  Now ten people worth of stuff had been dumped all over her living room and ten people worth of empties had clogged up her kitchen.  It seemed good we would be leaving tomorrow, as we had definitely imposed ourselves sufficiently upon Ali's hospitality.  Fortunately, she was gracious enough to take it all in stride. After some grocery shopping in Vulcan (which, as a town, kinda sucks actually... I way prefer Nanton), we came back to Ali's. We played with the puppy, did some Hula Hooping, and prepared for a big BBQ. Someone, who shall remain nameless to avoid Amy's wrath, took a trip into Nanton, and much to my surprise/elation, came back with the pellet gun for me. Lance, and his wife and daughter came out to the festivities, and brought with them some steaks from Lance's sister's farm.  These were the best steaks I have ever had in my life. Hands down. It was akin to smoking the cigars cigar makers smoke, or drinking the whisky the distillery owner drinks.  It was just that good.

June 13 Nanton - Calgary Grid, My Ass Ali joined us for the trip to Calgary... probably she just couldn't stand the mess we had made of her house.  Calgary, I used to like...   but she has become such a boomtown that on this visit it was hard to see the things that had initially attracted me to it.  It was like seeing an old girlfriend who used to be all wholesome and winsome and girl-next-door suddenly all dressed up like a creepy real estate agent wearing too much makeup.   Not having any personal connections in Calgary, Amy and I had decided that we would get a hotel tonight.  It was not to be.  We searched all over town, but were told (often smugly) that there was not a room to be had.  A big oil and gas expo was happening in town ("the biggest one in North America"), and at one place we were told that the nearest available hotel room was in Red Deer.  Maybe.  Fortunately, Carolyn's friend Diane (who was also going to be playing bass for some of the bands that night) proved amenable to taking on a few more guests.   Despite the fact that Calgary was all supposed to be laid out on a grid with everything being easy to find, it took us a real long time to find her place.  Consequently, half of us ended up arriving kind of late for the show.   The bar that the bands would play at was a new one, The Palomino, and it seemed pretty decent.  The main floor was a Western styled Bar bar, and downstairs was another bar, where the live music happened.  Calgary has some strange smoking laws.  You are able to smoke inside a bar, but you cannot smoke on the patio.  It was very reminiscent of the good ol' / bad ol' days of rampant smoke everywhere.  Even as a smoker myself, I found it somewhat overwhelming.  Calgary fans have historically enjoyed a good rockin' show, and Amy managed to wow them with her tribute to Black Sabbath song, Sabbath! Hank and Lily, as always, impressed, and Carolyn played the fastest paced set I had ever seen her perform.  Lance even showed up to play some speed pedal steel guitar. After the show, it was raining again, but a local good ol' rockabilly boy offered to give us all a ride home in his gigantic pickup truck.  He managed to transport thirteen of us, although about six people had to ride in the rain in the back.  They seemed to enjoy it.  

June 14  Calgary - Edmonton Goilers! We headed to Edmonton where we picked up another five people (who together comprised two more bands).  Dave Lang (Regina) and Garth Johnson (Toronto) who are the main components of The Dave Lang Band, and J. McLaughlin and Grayson Walker who form the excellent Victoria band, Hearse.  Dave's lovely partner Laura and another of our Vancouver Island friends, Sylvia, also came along for the ride.   There was mayhem in the air when we arrived in town.  It was game 5 of the NHL playoffs, and the Oilers were on the brink of elimination.  When we drove down Whyte Avenue, there were so many cops it looked like martial law.  The show was to be at one of the all time great live venues, The Black Dog.  The only drawbacks were that a) the Black Dog was on Whyte Avenue, and therefore would be super packed with people... b) they would be showing the game on televisions there, and the show would not be able to go on until the game was over... and if it went into overtime, it could conceivably last for hours... c) if the Oilers lost, the crowd might get ugly. Fortunately, although the game did actually go into overtime, it ended fairly quickly, and the Oilers won.  Whyte Avenue exploded into revelry.  I decided to take a walk along the street to see just what was up.  I don't know exactly what had happened after other games (apparently some broken window, bonfires in the street and other assorted drunken hooliganry), but the cops were taking no chances.  They seemed to be everywhere, herding people along the sidewalk, pushing people off the actual street, and giving everyone the hairy eyeball.  In my short walk, I saw them arrest one guy who wanted to debate whether on not he was allowed walk in the street (he's wasn't) and I had about a million people shout "Goilers!!!" in my face.  I saw lots of people driving around honking their horns and yelling... often, if they had a pickup truck, they had a giant tinfoil Stanley Cup in the back.  I was also required to give out lots of high fives, which I did until I came across the guy who gave me such an enthusiastic high five that he nearly took my arm off.  After that I walked down the alley instead. The Black Dog was packed to the point of insanity which made for some difficulty in moving around and, more importantly, buying beers, but the place is blessed with some of the greatest bar staff this side of the Railway Club.  By the time I was lining up to buy my second beer of the evening, the bartender already recognized me, and would have my beer of preference open and ready for me by the time I got to the front of the line.  Which was a good thing, especially because the place was so damn noisy that even screaming at the top of my lungs, it was hard for anyone to hear me.  Once again, it was a really good show...   jam-packed, elated, drunk Edmontonians really know how to have a good time.  And as an added bonus, we ran into Jerf, one time drummer for Red Cat Records label stalwarts, The Doers.  For those who know him, and miss him, he asked me to tell you all that he's doing great, playing in a band called Field and Stream, and has no intention of moving back to Vancouver.

June 15  Edmonton - Driftpile Attack of the 6 Ft. Kimonoman The goal on this day was to drive 4 hours North of Edmonton to attend/play the North Country Fair.  It's held just outside the township of Driftpile, Alberta, (near Lesser Slave Lake) and was a 3-day Solstice celebration.  We were warned that there would be rain and hippies. We were arriving a day early so that the bands could play a special show for the volunteers.  Needless to say, these events are usually chaos during the actual event...   to arrive a day early ensured that things were really upside-down-town.  Hell, they were still constructing a road to where people could park.  The Hong Kong Lady took even more undercarriage abuse as a result, but we took solace in what was to become the tour mantra (at least as far as the vehicles were concern), "ahh fuck it, it'll be fine."  Amy, Dave, Laura, Garth and I pitched our tents in the performers' campground, "Shady Hollow".  It's always tempting when camping to start drinking before you set up your tent, but Amy and I had discipline (and, as I said, we had been seriously warned about rain), so we quickly cobbled together something that looked like it would probably "do", and then set out to find where the others had camped.  Tolan had taken Gwyneth to the farthest end of the campground, far away from other campers, but close to the stage were tonight's show was to take place. His camping posse included Hoff, Carolyn, Clay, Sylvia, and Goose, and they had opened up Gwyneth's side door, and strung up a tarp that extended out from there to cover a seating area and a (against Fair rules) fire pit.  The beers were cracked, and Black Sabbath was cranked.  With one of my last lucid thoughts of the day, I started second guessing the rainworthiness of our camp ground, but when I went back to check it out, I found that Garth and Dave (who love doing shit like this), had taken down our crappy tarp set up, and instead constructed a sturdy tarp-opolis that covered all three of our tents.  We then all sojourned back to Gwyneth to continue drinking and camping and awaiting someone to come by and tell us when the show was to go on.  Here is an important fact that escaped all of us. Driftpile is pretty fucking far North (compared to, say, Vancouver), and around the Solstice the sun does not set until well after midnight.  Consequently we drank and smoked and hung around in the assurance that, somehow, it was perpetually around 9:00.  This illusion was somewhat dispelled by a shaggy, intense, old hippie guy in a kimono who appeared at our campsite.  Apparently he was the stage manager of the stage that the bands were supposed to be playing at.  He was upset that it was well after midnight and no one had played yet.  We informed him that no one had told us anything, and anyway, we had no idea where half of our musicians had wandered off to.  This didn't mollify him in the least, and he proceeded to inform us that some "professional musicians" were impatiently waiting for us to get going...   apparently they were a "smoking blues band from the city".  We said, that since we didn't know where everybody was, "the smoking blues band" might was well take the stage whenever they wanted.  Then we returned to drinking.  I won't go into the gruesome details, but after hearing some garbled comments from the stage about "professionalism" and "courtesy" and "smoking blues"; we were treated to some of the most pedestrian, wanky, bullshit blues you could ever imagine being subjected to.  If you have seen the movie Ghost World, conjure up image of the band Blues Hammer.  Blues Hammer would have been preferable to the craptacular display that was M64.   Fortunately Gwyneth's sound-system could mostly drown them out.   Eventually it actually got dark, but I have no idea what time the bands finally took the stage (late, late, late, that's for sure)...   it was by far the drunkest show of the entire tour, kind of a trainwreck in places, but no one seemed to mind and the bands didn't stop playing until it was light again.      

June 16  Driftpile Shore Is Muddy While we were sleeping, it rained.  Hard.  Dave and Garth's tarp-opolis worked wonders, and we all stayed dry.  Amy and I were woken to the sound of Garth shouting that we should all get out of bed, and that we were lazy bastards, and the kitchen was cooking up breakfast and there were "big bowls of bacon", but we'd have to hurry because breakfast was nearly over.  We dragged our sorry asses over to the performer's kitchen area were there was a big spread laid out, but there were no (and there never was to be) any "big bowls of bacon".  The rain (which continued off and on all day) turned everything to mud.  I was okay, as I had thought to bring a straw cowboy hat, at big military trench coat (which Amy hated, but easily held six beers in it's pockets) and gum boots.   Some of the other were not so fortunate.  Clay for instance started drinking before he set up his tent, consequently he had not set up a tarp to protect his tent...   he also neglected to bring a sleeping bag (he had to use his dirty laundry as a blanket)...   and he left his regular shoes and his gumboots outside his tent, so they filled up with water.  He cut a miserable hungover figure when he finally emerged for the day.  Hank Pine had been more forward thinking with his camping arrangements, but his major malfunction was that he had neglected to use enough bug spray.  Whenever it wasn't raining, there were tons of giant mosquitoes and no see 'ums.  At one point he lifted up his shirt to show a ring around his torso about thee inches wide that was composed of around 50 bug bites of various sorts.  The visible parts of his body were almost as badly off. Today was the official start of the festival, and as the day continued, tons of people started arriving.  Considering the weather, it was quite impressive.  Unfortunately, when it came time for Carolyn to take to the main stage and kick off the Fair, it was discovered that 1) the soundboard had gotten soaked overnight  2) it was also missing a major component that it needed to be functional.  Soooo...   while they dried out the board, someone had to be contacted in Edmonton to drive up the missing part. Things finally got started 4 hours late.  Once it began, it was a great evening of music, and we were even treated to the reunion of Carolyn Mark and Her Roommates (Carolyn, Tolan and Garth).   Carolyn and Hoff especially deserve kudos for rocking the "long evening dress with six inches of mud around the hem" look all evening.

June 17  Driftpile - Edmonton The Shabbiest Wedding Guests Evar We really tried to get going early.  I just wanted to say that for the record.  Hank, Lily and Clay were staying at the Fair, but the rest of us had to attend the wedding of John Guliak and Christine Ferguson.  I had to get to Edmonton especially early (3:00) because I was the best man.  With this in mind, we did our best to hit the road by 10:00 (counting on a four-hour drive and then an hour to clean up and make ourselves presentable).  Didn't happen.  We got going around 11:30, and even though I matted it, we didn't actually arrive in Edmonton until 3:00.  When we arrived, we were a mess.  It's amazing how quickly one can degenerate from (vaguely) civilized to a smelly, dirty, bearded caveman...   covered head to toe in mud.  Amy was not much better.   After what amounted to a quick hosing down, we tore off the wedding, which took place in the Guliak/Ferguson backyard.  I will state for the record here, and for all time, I was a terrible, terrible best man.   John, if you ever read this...   I'm terribly sorry.  When I arrived at the lovely family event, I was wearing a badly wrinkled suit...   a mud and blood stained shirt...   muddy, scuffed combat boots...   I had a patch of beard the size of a toonie on my chin that I had missed when I shaved...   and I had bumped my head on the trunk of my car, and there was blood trickling down my face.  On top of this I was hungover, burned out, stupid and had a hacking cough from all the cigarettes and campfire I had inhaled at the Fair.  Amy was not quite the freakshow I was, but later in the evening she finally realized that one of her shoes was a significantly different colour than the other. The reception featured a table full of Edmontonians glued to the Oilers Stanley Cup game on a portable TV.  They did a pretty good job of not yelling and swearing too loud while the speeches were going on.  The Oilers won, and once again Edmonton exploded.  Even though we were well away from Whyte Avenue on this occasion, you could still hear all the horn honking and general brouhaha.  The reception also featured the long awaited reunion of The Fixin's, a band that John had been in with Carolyn, Dave and Garth back in the olden days. At the end of the evening, I got chewed out by Christine's mother for not having had the courtesy to introduce myself.  She was right to do so, most best men can do better than that.

June 18  Edmonton - Edson At Least It's Not Raining I was very pleased to find out, when I woke up, that I was now sick.   Yesterday's cough was not entirely attributable to smoking my face off; it was actually a precursor to a foul illness.  At least we are on our way home now, and although it will be a long drive, we were all promised a couple of evenings in a luxury ski chalet near Kamloops with a hot tub.  Our plans, as you might have guessed, were of the pipe variety.   About two hours out of Edmonton, in the middle of nowhere, we blew a tire.  No biggie...   we pulled over, and I set about getting out the spare tire (which was a real spare tire and not one of those stupid tiny ones).  Unfortunately, at this point Amy and Carolyn noticed that there was a lot of steam coming out from under our hood.  A quick inspection revealed that simultaneously to blowing our tire, our radiator had developed a large crack.  We (well, the ladies, actually) were soon able to flag down a guy with a cell phone and we were able to get BCAA to send out a tow truck. Don, the tow truck driver informed us that we would need to go to Edson, the nearest town.  He also informed us that as "basic BCAA" members the first 5 kilometers of towing was free.  It was approximately 80 kilometers to Edson.  Although expensive, Don's company on the tow was pretty cool.  He was widower who just drove a tow truck all day long, and when he wasn't driving the truck he tried to "drink Canada dry".  He told us stories about hunting foxes in Virginia ("the poor hounds would come back from the hunt just covered in ticks").  He also told us how, when he was younger and was doing some farming in Alberta, he killed two (or perhaps three) birds with one stone by running a big water hose into the gopher holes on his land and thereby irrigated his field at the same time as he drowned the gophers.  Those that didn't drown were easy to shoot. We got into Edson (Home of the Giant Squirrel), dropped off the car at a repair shop (which was closed for the day) and left a note telling them what we required.  We found a hotel, The Odyssey (We Sell Sleep), and fortunately got the last room, although we were informed that no rooms would be available tomorrow (big oil patch convention, or something).   With nothing else to do, we bought booze and watched TV.  As we lounged around, we did our best to look on the bright side of things.  In this case, the bright side was that, for the first time on the entire tour, it didn't rain a drop all day long.  Still, there is the nagging suspicion we should be in a hot tub.  Gwyneth's crew is.  

June 19  Edson - Hinton Gimme A One Way Ticket To Hinton We got the call first thing in the morning.  The repair shop wouldn't be able to fix our car for a couple of days.  Apparently they needed to order a new radiator from Edmonton.  It would also cost around $600.   Considering we wouldn't be able to get a hotel room in Edson tonight...   combined with the fact that we sure as hell didn't want to stay in Edson for two more days, we decided to call all the places in town.  A bunch of brain dead yokels basically told us the same thing...   2 days, lotsa $$$, and really they had better things to do.  Carolyn, on a whim, started checking a bit more afield.  In Hinton, the next town down the road, there was a guy who specialized in radiators.  He figured that if we could get the radiator out of our car, and bring it to him...   he could fix it, and for significantly less money.  When we told him that getting the radiator out of the car was beyond our abilities at the moment, he said that, in our case, he could probably take the radiator out himself.  All we'd have to do is get the car to Hinton.  Once again, BCAA was called.  I tried signing up for a Premium Membership, which would have entitled us to 100 kilometers of towing, but they're smart, upgrades don't apply to preexisting conditions.  So it was a 100 kilometer tow (first 5 free) and the tow truck driver wouldn't take all three of us. Carolyn and Amy went with him, and I hung around town until I could catch a Greyhound bus to Hinton.  I've been a lot of places in my life, but they don't get much worse than the Greyhound bus station in Edson, Alberta.   When I finally got to Hinton, I found a note stuck to the door of the Greyhound bus station there informing me that Larry (the radiator guy) would not be able to repair our radiator (stupid plastic radiators), but he would be able to replace it...   he could have it done before noon tomorrow...   and it would be about half as expensive as any other quote we had gotten.  The note also said that Amy and Carolyn were holed up with some beer and wine at a hotel not too far away.  We spent the evening drinking and watching the Oilers lose the Stanley Cup on TV.  We should be in a hot tub...   Hank and Lily are in the promised hot tub tonight.

June 20 Hinton -  Sun Peaks Finally, The Hot Tub Larry was a man of his word, and at 11:00 AM; the Hong Kong Lady was once again ready to hit the road.  After a couple of days of enforced inertia, it was really good to get back on the road again.  We were going to take the Yellowhead to the ski chalet, because at this point we were damned if we weren't going to get at least one night of sitting in a hot tub.  The Yellowhead is a great drive.  The mountains were beautiful, and we saw lots of wildlife, including two bears (one a Grizzly) and an escaped bull that was just walkin' down the highway (he also had the largest balls any of us had ever seen on a living creature).  We arrived at the chalet, for which we can thank Bob, the local golf pro, who has connections everywhere.  For instance, he helped scare us up a show tomorrow that Carolyn and Amy could snake their way onto. Luther Wright and his buddies, The Shiftless Rounders, were to be playing the opening show for the volunteers at the Salmon River Roots and Blues Festival (ever wonder whatever happened to Ten Years After?...   they're playing at the Salmon Arm Roots and Blues Festival).  Then we hot tubbed, and it was good.  

June 21  Sun Peaks - Salmon Arm The Best Connected Golf Pro In The Valley Another good drive through the Shuswap, and when we arrived in Salmon Arm, we found that Bob (who is amazing) has teed us up rooms at the best hotel in Salmon Arm (don't laugh, it was fucking amazing).  Our room overlooked a bird sanctuary; we looked right down on an Osprey's nest.   Pretty damn cool.  Amy, Carolyn and I were getting kind of worn out, and we made a beginner's mistake...   we forgot to eat, but we didn't forget to drink.  Still, it was a fun evening, and it was cool seeing The Shiftless Rounders for the first time.  Good ol' hobo bluegrass.