Banned Books in Big Sur and Manitobans in Monterey

I attempted to schedule a post for July 4th when it was still July 2nd and Clem & I were killing time charging batteries in a 24-hour McDonald's in Soledad, CA, and it didn't work. So now that I'm home and not on the road, let's try posting this again.
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Happy 4th of July!

We spent the day before Canada Day meeting up with Winnipeg singer-songwriter Dan Frechette in Monterey and spending the afternoon driving to and from Big Sur's Henry Miller Memorial Library with him.

Check, check, and check. Yep, we've come to the right place!

Coffee and a cat can be found on the porch.
And maybe someone doing yoga or someone writing a song or a novel. 

Many sculptures surprise visitors in all corners.

Henry himself greets you at the door.

All of Henry's books are available to peruse and buy. I recommended the most classic banned Henry Miller text to Dan who had not yet read him: Tropic of Cancer. I did warn him, but he was game to try. I expect to hear a review soon!

Henry Miller's bathroom. Where all the (writing) action happens.

Dan sat down at Henry Miller’s old piano and effortlessly riffed some blues to entertain the piles of books. Meanwhile, Clem got his hands on an old guitar and tried her out.

Not surprisingly, Dan had started jonesing for a jam so he organized one in Monterey, hoping to get something going like what we have in Winnipeg. So Clem and I were lucky to have landed in town just in time to be part of the first ever Monterey Jam night.

HI-Monterey, by the way, is a wonderful place to stay - completely green and very kindly staff to look out for you. Very reasonable rates and not too crowded, even in the busiest week of the summer.

Back to Big Sur this morning, stopping at Point Lobos to get close to the ocean and sea birds, then Pfeiffer Falls for a high view and forest walk. Beautiful scenes and smells among the redwoods. 

On the way down the winding Pacific Coast Highway, we stopped at several historic bridges - most built in the 1930s. Most famous is the Bixby Bridge of 1932.

 

Bixby Bridge, PCH.

Point Lobos. We wanted to be near the ocean.

Sea veggies washed up at Point Lobos.

Merman. With legs. He was climbing around on the rocks so I collected him like a sea shell.

Sedimentary rock, sea-worn.

A sea urchin trapped in a tide pool? Uhm...maybe not!

Cormorants on Bird Island. Zoomed in all the way. Extremely stinky area.

"Make us mindful of the little things that grow and blossom
in these days to make the world beautiful for us."

Pfeiffer falls in a dry season.

Valley View hike at Pfeiffer Park

Finally we hit up Carmel by the Sea for a last glimpse of the massive waves crashing on the beach as the sun set. Then hit the road again for right about here.

Carmel-by-the-sea at sunset on a cloudy day.

Next, hiking at Pinnacles! Then drive to the Hans Christian Anderson Museum at Solvang and home to LA - a home away from home.

Making Music in San Francisco

A city of poverty, riches, art and history, San Francisco is a quirky, expressive - and quite friendly character.

Our experience staying at HI San Francisco was brilliant. We could park right in front, load our things taking as long as we needed. Our room was clean and had everything we needed for less than a night in the creepy old hotel we stayed at the night before in Mill Valley. Parking for 24 hours was a steal at $25 at a nearby garage designated by the Hostel. This was, we had to remember, downtown San Francisco! AND best of all, our gig venue, 50 Mason Social House was a 5 minute walk down the street. As soon as we showered and prettied ourselves, we headed over.

Two solid local acts warmed up the stage for us: a young woman, Yea Ming, with a smoky alto voice played acoustic indie dreamy ballads accompanied by band mate Steven on slide guitar.

Starry-Eyed Cadets followed with slightly more upbeat indie pop. I liked the songs that had energy and fun dance-able grooves, but I'm still getting used to the concept of smooth, childlike (bland to my ear) vocals that some groups favour. Maybe the problem was the sound system that had the singer's already gentle tones quite drowned out by the drums and guitars. Clem's instructions to me were, "If you're going to write more about indie music, you need to listen to indie music." Yes, maestro, better get to it!

Our set went fairly well despite less practice than I'd hoped. I like to work the physical memory of who does what into my fingers and had a bit of the jitters but my musical colleague put me at ease: "We'll be fine. Relax!" Sige, sige ("okay, okay"), if you're not worried I won't be either.

A highlight was when the guitar player from the house band joined us for a brisk 3/4 beat on drums for the Canto de Maria Clara. Our set consisted mostly of Dragonfly Collector album project originals: There is No Remaining in Place and title track The World is Your Oyster, plus The Camerawalls' classics including My Life's Arithmetic Means and Birthday Wishes.

Photo by Grace Cometa James

A couple of the evening's organizers joined us on stage for a finale of The Cure's Just Like Heaven and The Smith's There is a Light that Never Goes Out. 

Post-show dinner was at a Thai place called Osha. 

Post-dinner work consisted of working out harmonies for another song: yet another hat for me in this project besides string section and communications manager is backing practice vocals. The music never quits around here! And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Next...Monterey and Henry Miller with a fellow Manitoban!

Hit the Ground Running: LA to San Fran

This time there was no question: "I'm coming to LA from [this date] to [that date]. Book your flight and I'll see if we can play anywhere. And where do you want to hike?"

Two mandatory things we do, Clem and I, when the opportunity to subtract 7,400 km between our personal locations arises and we are seated at the same table planning a day of adventures over morning coffees: play music and hike. Or find art. Or seek other mind-expanding experiences. So much to do, so little time.

This blog is only getting written because we finally have some down time. Sitting across from each other writing our respective blogs at a McD's in a tiny town somewhere between Monterey and Pinnacles National Park, it's already Tuesday and I landed Friday night.

A hiccup when I landed: no rental car yet available. So no hitting the road right away. Truthfully, I was relieved as it meant getting a good night's sleep before a six hour road trip. In the morning we finally hit the big wide open by 10 a.m. - after delivering the Philippine Tribune to a local grocery store.

"Boring, boring, boring," Clem sang as he tried to stay awake across six hours of complete and utter flat. "Try doing 15 hours of this," I said. Us Winnipeggers are used to epic drives across the continent to get anywhere other than home.

San Francisco at last...first visit for me, second for Clem who'd been there briefly seven years ago for a tour with his former band. First stop, Golden Gate Bridge, then checked into our hotel in Mill Valley on the outskirts heading toward Muir Woods National Park.

Note to travellers: if considering staying at America's Best Value Inn - Mill Valley, read the reviews first and keep them in mind. If you try to book a room over the phone, make them confirm the quoted price and write it down. Don't be surprised if you end up having to haggle for your quoted price but do stand firm. Despite some odd things, the rooms are clean-ish (albeit very old) and the hotel is right across from a great Italian restaurant.

Bit of a dawdle in the morning figuring out music, set list, and hiking logistics but got ourselves to Muir Woods National Park in good time for a couple of exploratory hikes: one up a dry creek bed and one in charted territory: Dipsea - Ben Johnson Trail (about 3.6 mi).

San Francisco's Pride Parade had been that day but by the time we headed to the HI hostel the crowds had cleared though the streets were filled with dance music and brightly dressed pedestrians.

More on SF and our gig at 50 Mason Social House later....

Lady Fiddler in The Big Smoke or, Trying Not to Buy Fluevogs on Queen Street

Note to self: never attempt to update the blog on a smart phone. I seem to have deleted the first bit of what I wrote earlier. I'm in Toronto this week for work and have brought my fiddle, as always. Only this time I didn't get to play it at all during the working part of the week as there was little to no free time, morning, noon or night.

 We did get to go for a bit of a walk, spotting quintessential Torontonian things.

 An incredibly talented busker let me take his photo: brass and strings at the same time!

Friday afternoon we were finally free! I moved my things to the Hostel on Church Street and went in search of National Ballet tickets, Fluevogs and finally, The Sweater Place, owned by Nancy, a woman of very excellent taste who manages to keep her tiny storefront free from duplicates. Not a single sweater is the same and she always has new seasonal stock.

My main goal this trip is to sit under a tree in a park and practice my fiddle. I deliberately did not bring any music, hoping to memorize and speed up tunes I already know.

The National Ballet of Canada was performing its final shows of the season, three modern pieces umbrellaed under a theme of Physical Thinking. Standing Room Only tickets were the tempting price of $12 so I jumped. The view was excellent and I stood next to a gentleman who had the poise of a former dancer and who indeed knew a little too much information about the great Canadian dancers to be an ordinary Joe Canadian Public. We spoke the same language. It was very refreshing!

Friday night dinner was at a cafe resto called bannock, next to The Bay. I could see the mannequins through the back window as it was attached. Fireweed honey is what I think the server said was in the huge artisan butter tart before me with whipped cream and a wild berry compote. Main course was a squash stuffed with wild grains, walnuts, fried cheese, sitting on a bed of steamed spinach and pomegranates with some kind of mildly spicy sauce. Heck, I'm no food critic but it sure was good!

Painting in a boutique in the Distillery District

The Hostel was hot and the bed kind of smelly. I was in one of the 10-person co-ed bunk rooms having forgotten to conclude my booking a month ago one frantic day at work and took what they had left when I arrived. At one point some idiot spent a half an hour making unpleasant noises in the toilet directly on the other side of the wall from me. I told myself it must have been food poisoning and waited to use the bathroom until the sound of a custodial cart had come and gone in the morning. But no harm done. I've stayed in places on the Camino with unbelievable bathrooms.

Saturday I intended to go right to the ferries and explore Toronto Island, fiddle in tow. However I got sidetracked after websurfing at my breakfast Starbuck's on King Street and discovered at www.nowtoronto.com that the Sing! choral festival was currently on and that Cantabile: The London Quartet would be playing that night. Tickets were available at a certain place in the Distillery District, which turned out to be a great little touristy area full of shops and historical buildings related to the - well, booze-making history of Toronto. And there I found the other Fluevog store! But alas, no shoes for me. When the only boots I want cost the same as a plane ticket, I need to save for that plane ticket.

Now that's a sign I like to see!

A long-ish walk along Lake Shore Drive landed me at the Jack Layton Ferry. $7 and 10 minutes after boarding, a ferry deposited about 100 people at the westernmost point of Toronto Island. I wandered until I found a swing set and a nice tree, sat, had lunch, and finally - got to play me fiddle! Swans abounded.

Reluctantly caught the 4:30pm ferry back and had enough time for a dinner of soup and quinoa salad at The Sultan's Tent & Cafe Moroc at 49 Front Street near the hostel.

A 15 minute walk after ditching the fiddle landed me at Little Trinity Church and a brilliant concert by The London Quartet - From Montiverdi to Monty Python. Plus some hilarious tricks of their own including a sung version of the Cricket rules in the manner of Estonian minimalist composer, Arvo Part. A lot of "the player is innnnn" and "the player is ouuuuuut" in that one. They delivered Beatles classic Penny Lane with fun and beauty, and had us in tears with a completely forgetful spoof of "Memory" from Cats by Andrew Lloyd Webber.

A highlight of the evening was to meet the gents and nab a photo with them.

Flying home Sunday at 6pm. Should I take in the Songwriting workshop with Dan Hill, Alan Frew (former lead singer of Glass Tiger) and Lorraine Segato (former lead singer of the Parachute Club) in the afternoon?

Turns out it was a good idea to return to the Sing! Vocal Arts Festival on my last day: met Paul Sanderson, Canada's top entertainment lawyer and author of the country's most (only) comprehensive textbook: Musicians and the Law in Canada. Then caught the Harlem Boys & Girls Choir Alumni Ensemble - breathtaking! and finished with the songwriting workshop - no Alan Frew but a whole lot of up-close and personal Dan Hill and Lorraine Segato.

I was one of about six people attending and being in the front row, was the object of their focus as they told story after story about how they came to write this song and that song that made their Grammy-winning careers. Intense and inspiring! It was really hard to make a dash for the street car when all I wanted to do after was chat with Lorraine. She said she loved writing songs but not singing - but someone in The Parachute Club had to sing so the job fell to her. Dan interrupted to tell her, "You need more confidence - you can do it - you just need more confidence." I felt like he was speaking to me. Witnessing him mentor her was incredible.

Lorraine Segato and Pat Silver hold mics for Dan Hill as he sings a song he just wrote dedicated to his late sister.

Never before has it been so hard to have to get on a plane to come home.