Monday 23rd September 2013 – THERE’S A LANE NOT FAR FROM HERE …

… called Noah Lane, and someone suggested that I go and look at some of the houses there.

It was well-worth the trip too because they are certainly out-of-the-ordinary as you can see. And in the weather that we have been having this last few days/weeks/months, living in somewhere like this is not a bad idea at all because it’s atrocious and if I’m not careful these pages will become an eternal liturgy of desolation.

This morning I took advantage of the absence of everyone by repacking stuff that is hanging around in the car. I found a bigger cardboard box and repacked the library, and generally rearranged things in the suitcase. THat’s given me some more room to play about with.

Tim Horton’s was next, for now that they have free wifi access it’s an obvious port-of-call when I’m out. And from there I wandered off for lunch, sitting on a bluff near Hartland overlooking one of the rivers, whose name I managed to forget, to eat my butties.

This afternoonn I went, via Noah Laneof course, to see someone I know, and we had a good chat and organised a few things here and there. That took quite a while. And apart from that, we spent a lot of family time together and had a good chat. There’s not a lot else that you can do in weather like this.

-2

Sunday 22nd September 2013 – AND IT WAS AS WELL

Yes, a rough night with howling gales and driving rainstorms and one more night where I don’t seem to have had a decent sleep. I’m getting rather fed up with this.

Anyway, everyone else was up and about early (no surprise) and oo we hit the road. Having telephoned Rachel, we all arranged to meet up at the truckstop at Houlton for breakfast and then while Darren and Hannah went home, Rachel, Amber, Zoe and I went shopping around Marden’s and Walmart. Walmart is having a CD sale at $5:00 a time and so I’m all loaded up with all kinds of goodies to take home with me. Add that to the Ryobi bit driver and Strawberry Moose, and there won’t be any room in there for my clothes, not the first time that this has happened to me. His Nibs did offer to buy his own jet and fly it home, but that was ruled out when I explained to him that it was spelt “L-E-A-R”.

Back home I had a shower (no, the OUSA Executive Committee hasn’t come over to join me) and then did quiet domestic things to finish off the day. After all, it is Sunday

-3

Saturday 21st September 2013 – HERE IN MILLINOCKET …

… the weather looked distinctly less-than-promising this morning. Although we had spent the evening sitting out in a gentle warm breeze, watching the stars, something must have happened during the night and it all looked so depressing.

We were however told by the guy in charge of the airport that the day would brighten up, and as the morning wore on and the competitors began to arrive, some of them brought the nice weather with them and by the time the competition got itself under way, we had a bright scorching sunshine

There was nothing else here apart from the tractor pulling – no fairground or showground as at Clinton the other week.

And not that I know very much about tractor pulling, but the track looked to be in far better condition. And so it should have been, considering the effort that had gone into preparing it the morning of the event (it pays to be at places like this early so that you can see exactly what is going on).

Here’s one of our old friends, a grader similar to the thousands that we encountered in 2010 during our marathon drive along the Trans Labrador Highway
(except that this one has griffers on the back) smoothing to track out ready for the compactors to compress down.

. There were several more classes of truck than at Clinton, although nothing like as many entries, and the event was over long before nightfall.

What didn’t help was the number of breakdowns. All kinds of things were going wrong for some of the drivers – clutches disintegrating and the like. On one old truck, the effort to pull the sledge pulled a universal joint clean out of the si=ocket in the centre of the propshaft and I can’t say that I’ve ever seen that happen before, although on one of my old taxis many years ago, an out-of-balance propshaft tore the mounting out of the floor of the car.

In the middle of the contest Darren did a demonstration run in “Perdy in the Pink”, and then Hannah had her first effort. And when I find the USB lead to charge up the camcorder (which somehow I seem to have forgotten to bring), I’ll put a video of her run on here. Dad made 341 feet and a bit, and Hannah, putting everything that she had into it, did 337 feet, which is pretty spectacular considering that she’s only just 16.

Her second run though, she was doing even better until the fuel line split and sprayed ethanol all over her and the track at about 50psi. Nevertheless, first place in her class and in the top 10 overall is something to be proud of.

Highlight of the day has to be the guy who came over to me while I was filming and said “How do you manage to stand so close to the tractors and film then with all of the noise that they are making?” to which I replied “what?”.

And we can’t be bothered to go home tonight so we’re sitting here talking, drinking and watching the storm clouds gather. It’s going to be rough tonight.

-6

Friday 20th September 2013 – AND WE’RE OFF …

… tractor-pulling again. Just the four of us this time, namely Darren, Hannah, Yours Truly and of course Strawberry Moose. We’re going to a place called Millinocket which is deep inside darkest rural Maine and miles off the beaten track, so I shall be quite at home there.

But a crisis at the local truck stop (not the big one where we stopped last time). My fries turned up, well, sort-of okay but my beans had bacon in them despite me specifying “just beans – no cheese and no bacon or anything else”. Apparently a simple request like that is beyond the capacity of some trukstop waitresses in the USA. “However did this lot become the new master race?”, as I have asked myself before.

Today started off early as it was Inspection Day at Zoe’s salon. A couple of last-minute tasks needed to be carried out and so Yours Truly was roped in. This little desk with two shelves that we bought (was $60, when we first saw it, it was reduced to $40 and when Zoe bought it it was further reduced to $20) is an absolute bargain and does exactly what it’s supposed to do, and more besides.

Then I went off to Tim Horton’s to give two people the shock of their lives. There they were sitting at a table next to me quietly nattering away, and then I caught the “long Jaaaa”. “Jullie komen uit Nederlands?” I asked them, and then we had a very interesting 10-minute conversation in Dutch. Probably the last thing that they were expecting in a coffee bar in a small town in rural New Brunswick.

The rest of the day was spent running errands. They are short-handed in the tyre depot again and deliveries were piling up and so with Zoe as navigator (her salon passed its inspection and as soon as Darren finishes welding the sills on her car she’ll be in business) we went off around Bath, Florenceville and Bristol with a pile of parcels and envelopes. And of course the bank. I don’t know if I mentioned last time the fun that I had trying to get US dollars out of US cash machines with my Canadian bank card, and so I went to the bank and took out some USA cash.

Now I’m sitting at the side of a deserted runway in rural Maine watching the stars and the full moon, and waiting for things to happen.

-3

Thursday 19th September 2013 – WE STARTED OFF THIS MORNING …

… with the usual and traditional panic-stricken 20-minutehunt for the keys. And no-one was more surprised that I was to find them, after all of that, in their proper place. Yes, the last place to look for them of course.

Nevertheless, by 07:30 I was sitting on the docks at Baie St Anne drinking coffee and contemplating the gorgeous weather. It was absolutely taters when I woke up, all of 3°C, but it quickly warmed up once the sun rose and even despite the wind, it was lovely out.

A short drive down the road I discovered another quite little cove and thatw as the spot for breakfast, and then I continued my drive along the Acadian Trail.

One of the places that has to be visited along here is the little fishing port of Escuminac, in the Miramichi Bay.

This was the scene of a major disaster in JUne 1959. All of the boats were out fishing when a sudden storm sprang up. 26 boats sank in the gale and 39 fishermen drowned. The entire communnity was devastated by the disaster as most of the male population was lost at sea. It puts a totally different price on the kipper on your breakfast plate, events like these

In the afternoon I left the coast and headed to Centreville. There’s a tractor pull this weekend and Strawberry Moose and I will be there.

And so I stopped for lunch up on the top of Tobique on the site of the old railway station on the banks of the river about 10 miles from Plaster Rock.

And here we had an exciting incident. Some woman with a dog came by and we had a chat, and during the course of the conversation it came out that I was on my way to Centreville. She mentioned that she knew people there, even though it was about 80 miles away, and subsequent enquiry revealed that it is Rachel’s parents-in-law at the mill.

THis world is getting far to small for my liking.

-4

Wednesday 18th September 2013 – ET IN ACADIA EGO

… but more about that in a bit.

My overnight spot was excellent and was a wonderful place to pick, and so up and about at an early hour I went for a walk along the Dune de Bouctouche – all 11 kms of it (the dune, that is, I walked … errr … somewhat less than that).

The morning was the best morning yet on my adventures and a brisk walk by the seaside blew away all of the cobwebs, and quite right too because the wind was a little bit frisky to say the least. The wind turbines on Prince Edward Island way across the Nothumberland Strait were going round like the clappers

Here, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky as you can see, and the sky was almost as deep-blue as the water. It really was a pleasure to be out and about.

From here I went off along the coast looking to see how many of the old wooden truss bridges are still left standing, having noticed that a few that I counted when I was here in 2003 have been replaced by modern concrete bridges.

The one near the First Nation settlement at Rexton is still here as you can see, but it’s really only just about standing

It’s in a totally dreadful state of repair as you can see, thoroughly eaten away by rot and woodworm in several places. Some of the wooden trusses have been replaced and others have had some kind of Heath-Robinson repairs that have done little to fix the problem.

I don’t reckon that it will be much longer before this bridge ends up in the river underneath with a couple of car-loads of pasengers down there with it.

And there was another one equally as bad on the way out of St Louis de Kent and that’s on a main road with heavy traffic too.

Talking of St Louis de Kent, this town is said to be the birthplace of the Acadian flag and here flying on the bluff that overlooks the river and the valley below is probably the biggest Acadian Flag that the world has ever seen.

The guy that designed it, and did so much to foster the Acadian “identity” was Marcel-Francois Richard, a priest here round about the turn of the 20th Century and they celebrate his fame in something of a big way with statues and plaques and, of course, the flag. But not, so it seems, a chorus of Ave Stella Maris, the Acadian anthem (unless I’m going deaf).

Talking of priests and the like, and going back to Rexton, here is the parish church of the aforementioned and the priest of it 150 years ago is by no means as famous as his son ever was.

Andrew Bonar Law was the only British Prime Minister ever to be born outside the UK and if you read his biography it says that he was born in Kingston New Brunswick. However, if you go to Kingston they know nothing about it. This is because there were formerly two Kingstons in New Brunswick and it all became confusing and so 100 years ago one of them, this one, changed its name to Rexton

Bonar law’s dad was vicar of this church and it was in the manse next door that Junior was born.

So with more bridges and beaches and yacht harbours and the like I’m now on the campsite of the Kouchibouguac National Park for tonight. It’s nice and peaceful at the moment but now that I’ve arrived, you watch that all change.

-2

Tuesday 17th September 2013 – BRRR IT WAS COLD …

… this morning. Winter is here by the looks of it. Mind you the beautiful clear sky had a lot to do with that – all of the radiant heat disappearing through the night. But I really ought to stop complaining and get on with some work.

Still, you can’t keep a good man down, and not even me, and so I was off down the road into the gorgeous day.

Skirting the edge of Moncton and climbing into the hills at the back, some of the views were terrific and it was a total pleasure to have had a good day to see them for a change.

This is a view from the top of a bank somewhere along Homestead Road and somewhere down there is the truckstop where I spent the night, and of course the Trans Canada Highway as it closes in on Moncton. It’s a shame that the photo can’t really do any justice to the image but, like I said, it was something to be able to see clearly today.

In Moncton, it was largely disappointment. Princess Autos, the big motor factors, had nothing that was of interest and even if they might have done, the staff, while helpful, know totally nothing about their stock and so they were of no help at all.

UPS doesn’t have a budget freight service and the guy there suggested the Post Office for me to ship back a few things, but Home Depot did even better. A Ryobi plus One impact bit driver and two lithium batteries plus charger for just $119. You can’t even buy the batteries for that in Europe, and the bit driver costs more than that alone.

From there it was to the seaside, which was why I came down here anyway. This is the fishing port of Shediac. It’s only half an hour or so from Moncton and it’s one of the most beautiful places in New Brunswick. Strawberry Moose and I had a really good wander around and he made quite a few friends, both animal and human, more of which anon, and I took plenty of photos.

From here, we followed the Acadian Trail northwards. The Acadians were the original French settlers of the area and after the fall of Nouvelle France to the British they were obliged to take an oath of loyalty to the British Crown. Many of them did so of course, but some refused and those were deported to other French possessions (such as Louisiana, where they became known as “cajuns”) in North America, although once tensions had eased in the Maritime Provinces many of them filtered back

If it weren’t for the fact that the water here is absolutely freezing even in High Summer (this is the Northumberland Strait between New Brunswick and Prince Edward Isle – no Gulf Stream here) this would be a splendid place to come. There are lots of little beaches (but like in most areas of North America, quite a few of them are private) and lighthouses and all of that kind of thing to entertain the tourist.

Unfortunately, the tourist season is very short and Sunday was the last day for that and so there isn’t much that is open to the public right now, but who cares anyway? I’m enjoying the weather and the sea air.

Some of the small towns are quite pretty too. This is Bouctouche, a little further north along the Arcadian Trail, and the photo was taken from the steps of the large church.

The bridge is comparatively modern and at the side of it you’ll see a ramp down into the water and on the other side of the river, heavily overgrown, is another ramp. That seems to indicate “ferry” to me because even as late as the 1980s there was nothing like the number of bridges that you see today and the whole route was punctuated by ferries. A water-borne paradise and I for one am disappointed that it’s all gone.

But Bouctouche, or rather the huge Bouctouche sand dune, is where I’m heading. There’s a big car park quite discreetly hidden amongst the trees and that is where I plan to have my overnight stop.

-3

Monday 16th September 2013 – I’M NOT AT ALL SURE …

… what it was that awoke me thins morning but it was big and brushed past the side of the van while I was asleep. Of course no-one sleeps after anything like that.

so while I show you a picture of my little home for the last few days, I went off for a shower and then spent the next hour or so bringing the paperwork up to date as much as I could in the time that I had available.

You can’t see the bench that is allocated to each camping spec, and neither can you see the old truck wheels that are used as bases for open camp fires but I didn’t use either of them due to the weather (and it was even raining again this morning)

Once things were all organised I set off to Fredericton to pick up my new bass amp (silly me) and then spent the afternoon driving along the north bank of the Saint John River, a river that has of course featured in songs by such artists as Man and Led Zeppelin in the song “Babe I’m Going To Leave You”.

The drive wasn’t particularly inspiring, due completely to the weather which was enough to put the mockers on anything, but it very slowly started to clear up, as you can see in the distance in this photograph of a place called White’s Cove.

And by the time I got to Phoen … errr … the edge of Moncton and the big Irvings truckstop where I planned to stay the night, the sun was actually out, peeking under the edges of the cloud as it descended below the horizon

Of course, it won’t last

-3

Sunday 15th September 2013 – JUST FOR A CHANGE …

… the sun was out this morning. Absolutely right on cue too, because the festival is now over.

I consequently caught up with a few more mundane tasks such as tidying up, something that I seem to be rather lax about as you know. Anyway once that was sorted out and a few other things up to date I headed for the hi… town.

We’re back into the more mundane photography too, as you might expect. This one isn’t mundane though.

During the various land reclamation schemes that have gone on throughout the world for over a thousand years, one aspect that has occurred almost everywhere is the straightening of water courses to ease the flow of water and to reclaim more fertile farming land from the bed of the old course of the river and in particular, some of the more pointless meanders.

These areas are of course filled with silt from the river and so are more fertile than the surrounding land but as the soil is less compact there, any really heavy rain sinks in and is absorbed like a sponge rather than running off. When these areas are thoroughly saturated in prolonged heavy rain the water rises to the surface and you cans ee traces of the old water course.

There’s a marvellous example of an old meander, what they call an “ox-bow lake” this morning on the way into Fredericton via the old road

A little further on we encounter another interesting item. This is a Dodge Power Wagon from the 1940s I reckon (but I’m never very good at guessing the ages of American vehicles).

It has been mobile, would you believe, but its last licence tag expired in 1977 and it looks as if it was used for a while subsequently as a stationary crane for a paving company. Anyway it’s not been used for ages, all rusted up, and it seems to be on its last legs, which is quite a shame.

In town, there was nothing at all going on and so I wandered around for a while and then, taking full advantage of the public internet access in Fredericton, I wrote the web page for the Canned Heat photos and they are now on line. For reasons concerning copyright and image theft I’ve degraded the quality of the photos substantially, but there are high-quality images available for anyone who would like to see them, as long as you say the magic words.

So tomorrow I’m back on the road. No idea where I’m going, though. But ask me if I care?

-5

Saturday 14th September 2013 – IT WASN’T THE DRIVING, POUNDING RAIN …

… that woke me up this morning. The weather seems to have cleared up a little – unless it’s run out of rain and gone back to find some more, which is most likely.

I wasn’t in a hurry to leave the stinking pit either today seeing as it’s weekend and I’m on holiday, but eventually I managed to do the photos and the notes as well as having a long chat with Cécile and her mum on Skype.

ON the way into town I stopped to fuel up and found the cheapest petrol that I’ve seen in ages – $1:26.9 at a garage owned by a Lebanese guy. Coffee at $1:25 too so I fuelled myself up with that. We also spent ages putting the world to rights too.

But now for the music.

First up in the Alexander Keith tent was Bob Marley’s old backing band, doing loads of covers of some of his best material.

Reggae is not really my scene and so I didn’t hang around too long as there was plenty of other things to be doing today, but at least I took a few photos of them. Not very many as it was impossible to fight my way through the crowds and down to the front.

However I didn’t half feel a fool. Due to a misunderstanding and a bad telephone line, I was the only person in the crowd who was carrying a harpoon.

In the Mojo Tent we had Marcia Ball, the Swamp Boogie Queen, on stage with her backing band. She was really quite good and thoroughly enjoying herself, and quite right too.

Not quite my scene either but I can appreciate good music whenever I hear it and I had no complaints about this performance, saxophones notwithstanding. I did enquire of one of the stage crew whether she had received any help in setting up her concert and giving her advice and all that kind of thing, to which he replied “not in the least – it’s all Ball’s.

This is Jessie Ashcroft on one of the outdoor stages, that restarted operations today now that the weather has improved. She was playing a Pink Floyd song, the name of which escapes me for the moment and which I’ll remember as soon as I press “send”, when I encountered her. Wat I found disappointing was that there was probably not even 40 people watching her act.

Even more disappointing was that when I asked the technician who the guitarist was, he answered “ohh, just some guy who plays with her” – he didn’t even know her name and that was dreadful because he deserved so much more that to be left in the deepest, darkest obscurity and anonymity like this.

Back in the Mojo Tent Garrett Mason (in the silly hat) and Keith Hallett (in the cap) were back on stage along with their rhythm section – Ray Jay Junior from Prince Edward Island on bass and a drummer called Chuck from Chicago.

The bassist was efficient rather than spectacular but the drummer was superb.

As for Garrett and Keith, they did live up to my expectations and moved into first place on my unofficial list of Festival winners. A fine hard-rocking boogie blues band that had the audience on its feet from start to finish.

Back at my spiritual home, the Hoodoo House, I saw the most astonishing band that I have probably ever seen in my 45 years of concert attendance – the 24th Street Wailers from Toronto.

They featured a sax player, a bassist, a female lead guitarist and a female lead singer on drums. Finding singing drummers is rare enough – finding female drummers is even rarer, but finding all of that together is astonishing.

And they weren’t bit-part players either.

Technically there wasn’t much wrong with what they were doing although it wasn’t all that technically-challenging (not that that ever bothered Status Quo and their army of supporters, I have to say), but if top rung on my ladder of Festival success was measured by energy, enthusiasm and audience interaction, they would have been down the road and out of sight long a long time before the final number

Headlining tonight was Ross Neilsen, together with a bassist and drummer whose name I didn’t catch. Sorry, guys. As a blues power trio they were thoroughly magnificent even if the sound mix was pretty awful, and I was prepared to install them at the top of my list, which I would have done with ease had they kept it up.

But then an astonishing thing happened.

They kept on inviting their mates to come up on stage and take part and we had a sax player, a keyboards player and, even worse, a mouth-organ player (and you know that that puts the kiss of death on a performance in my opinion). Of course, worse things happen at sea but it wasn’t as if these musicians added anything to the performance – in fact it quite detracted from what had been a magnificent opening set of numbers. All that was missing from the second half of the set was an invitation to next door’s cat to come up on stage.

Seriously, if Ross Neilsen and his two mates had kept up the power trio bit all the way through the performance they would have swept the board in my awards because they really were that good.

And had this motley crew of musicians been on stage from the very beginning it wouldn’t have been so bad either, but starting off as well as they did and then descending into chaos brought the curtain down on their performance as far as I was concerned.

Mind you, judging by the audience’s reaction, I’m clearly in a minority of one in this case.

I took refuge outside amongst the buskers, and spent a pleasant 20 minutes listening to this guy. He’s called Mike Peters and originally from Saint John but somehow managed to drift his way up here to Fredericton.

He was playing a set of folk-rock numbers, including Neil Young’s “Heart of Gold” and it beats me how it is that performers like him can’t find a regular spot at a festival like this when you consider some of the other artists who have been given stage time at the festival. There was nothing wrong with his performance and people like him deserve far more recognition than they are receiving.

So back to the camp site and it’s a clear night. So much so that I actually did a pile of washing before going to bed. That’s rather optimistic of me, I know. Cue a torrential downpour during the night.

-3

Friday 13th September 2013 – IT WAS THE DRIVING, POUNDING RAIN …

… that awoke me this morning. Things aren’t looking so good for the Festival. Still, the show must go on I suppose.

And no, this isn’t a misprint with me copying from yesterday or the day before either – it’s just an exact replica of what has happened this morning. The same as yesterday, and the day before.

After coffee and breakfast and updating the notes and images etc, I set off through the driving rainstorm for town. We didn’t get far though because there was a deputation at the gate. It seems that Strawberry Moose is in great demand again – not for his charm, wit and eloquence, but the first of this year’s paternity orders has arrived

I told him that this year he will have to take precautions, but he told me that he always checks to see if her parents are asleep, and he puts vaseline on the living room door knob.

This weather though is completely out of hand. One of the ways into town follows the nothern shore of the Saint John River and there are several opportunities to stop and take a look at how things are doing. As you can see, they aren’t doing so well right now.

The river has burst its banks in several places, which is hardly a surprise given all of the rain that we’ve been having and if the rain carries on it can only get worse, and that’s a depressing thought. Luckily I’m quite happy in my Dodge. This is a splendid way to have a holiday, all happily installed in here

Into town and shopping, and running a few errands as I have plenty to do, and then off for the music. Today opened at the Barracks tent and the first artist was one of these rap artists. Not my thing at all of course – in fact I reckon that this is another spelling mistake and there’s a letter missing off the front of that name.

I went off to eat some food instead because I was in a rush. The legendary Canned Heat are playing in an hour or so and guess what?

Our Hero has been granted a photography permit for the show!

First onstage was Thom Swift from Halifax and I’m sure that he was the opening act when I saw Taj Mahal here two years ago. There was him, Geoff Arsenault on drums (and what a magnificent drummer he is) and Brian Bourne playing a weird machine that I later worked out seemed to be the modern equivalent of a double-neck guitar – bass and lead in the same instrument. Anyway he certainly knew how to play it.

Thom Swift was in a different class completely than anyone else that we have seen before – not a rockin’ blues performer like The Record Company but nevertheless extremely competent. No wonder that he was chosen to open up for Canned Heat.

However, onto the stage came the legendary Canned Heat – opening act for Woodstock 1969 so we are told although this isn’t strictly true as Richie Havens was first on stage.

Nevertheless, nit-picking apart, their performance was a stunning one. Considering how old they are, they gave it everything they had got and that was plenty. Everyone in the audience was up on their feet by the time the curtain came down.

Canned Heat are definitely the stars of the Festival so far although I was puzzled to see why they only have fourth place on the list of artists. Probably because many people have short memories and can’t recall the good-yime days of the late 60s and early70s

But never mind the stars of the Festival. The highlight for me was being awarded a photography permit – one of only 5 issued – to photograph the band and I shall wear the permit to bed every night.

I just hope that, given the primitive equipment that I have compared to many other photographers, my photos have done justice to the performance. The permits were only for the first three songs and so I only have about 50 photos of the band and if you would like to see them, then you need to look at my web page of the event, whichis now on line

I’d missed most of Garrett Mason and Keith Hallett’s show at the Hoodoo House but they are playing again tomorrow night and so, unless the dam upriver from the city overflows and we are all swept away in a tidal carnage, I’ll be there to see them again.

What I caught of their show was excellent and of the “ordinary” bands here, they have now moved into first place on my preferred list of artists, overtaking The Record Company and Steve Strongman.

Anyway, back to the campsite in the driving rain just like last night, and now I find myself caked in mud just like back home

. This is starting to become depressing. It’s a good job that I have the music.

-4

Thursday 12th September 2013 – IT WAS THE DRIVING, POUNDING RAIN …

… that awoke me this morning. Things aren’t looking so good for the Festival. Still, the show must go on I suppose.

And no, this isn’t a misprint with me copying from yesterday – it’s merely a carbon copy of what has happened this morning.

However it did clear up enough for me to have a shower and make a coffee, and while I was on the computer Cécile appeared and so she had a guided tour of the Dodge and the campsite on Skype and the webcam.

Into town at lunchtime where the weather caught up with me again and I sought refuge in the library. With a stable internet connection I could do all kinds of things and catch up on a lot of stuff that I had let go for the moment.

The music this evening started off at 19:30 and I was in the Hoodoo House. First on stage was a guy called LeeBoy from Monastery, near Antigonish in Nova Scotia.

He’d had success in some of these reality TV stuff and songwriting competitions and while I’ve seen better acoustic blues performers, I’ve also seen a lot worse.

He certainly put everything that he had into his performance which, although it might not have been a lot, was nevertheless quite an acceptable warm-up act.

Next up was a three-piece blues band – guitar, bass and drums – the typical blues power trio. At last, the right number of musicians on stage.

This was Steve Strongman from Hamilton Ontario. He’s been on the road for over 20 years, so they say, so I imagine that he’s pretty tired by now and his feet must hurt. They say that he is quite well-known, with a string of blues albums to his name.

His set was absolutely excellent. I really enjoyed this. Shame that he got the gob-iron out halfway through his act but then again I don’t suppose that you can have everything. Why do blues musicians think that they have to have a mouth-organ?

There was a half-hour break at the Hoodoo House and so I went for a wander outside. We had the usual street entertainers who have now moved in, seeing as how the streets are now blocked off. This guy was on a plank on a few tin cans juggling with flaming brands.

Yes, it is a flaming brand, not a perishing torch.

I also enountered a couple of Fredericton’s finest. Two women as well, patrolling the streets of the Festival, the first that I’ve seen here.

One of them (for I did ask) told me that there was just 8 on duty tonight patrolling the streets of the city, a Provincial capital at that. I compared that to a music festival in the UK where there would be 800 bobbies patrolling the festival alone, always assuming that the festival would be allowed to go ahead, given the pathetic UK Health and Safety rules.

I’d seen the Avett Brothers, a country and western band from North Carolina, doing a sound check in the Alexander Keith tent earlier and so I went over to see what they were up to, because it sounded interesting.

I don’t think much of Country and Western but if it’s really good then it’s excellent and I quite enjoy it. However this wasn’t as good as it was cracked up to be during the sound check and so I didn’t hang around for too long, just in case they started up with “I Lost Control Of My 18-Wheeler And Ran Over My Dog”.

At the Barracks Square, there was a band called Billy Dre and the Poor Boys playing.

They certainly lived up to their name because “Poor” was exactly the word, although there was a spelling mistake in the leader’s name – there was an “I” missing.

This was punk rock at its worst and I do not understand how the organisers of the Festival had let these people (I refuse to use the term “musicians”) onstage at all.

It wasn’t that I didn’t like their music, the singer/guitzrist had in my humble … "humble?" – ed … little technical capability and the bassist even less. I reckoned that this was bringing the Festival into disrepute.

Back in the Hoodoo House (to which I had fled) The Record Company, from Los Angeles, took the stage.

Another power trio, and another excellent power trio too. While they were not as technically efficient as Steve Strongman and his band, they certainly knew how to move a crowd and their performance was thoroughly enjoyable.

And so heading back to my campsite in the torrential rain, I mused on how I had seen that evening two of the best bands that I had seen for ages, and also musing on the fact that how a band like Billy Dre and the Poor Boys could pack them into a tent whereas Steve Strongman and The Record Company didn’t even have 250 spectators.

And all of this just goes to show that my opinion counts for nothing in moments like these when it comes to personal taste in music.

-4

Wednesday 11th September 2013 – IT WAS THE DRIVING, POUNDING RAIN …

… that awoke me this morning. Things aren’t looking so good for the Festival. Still, the show must go on I suppose.

And leaving the camp site I left behind the old suitcase, as I remembered when I arrived in Fredericton. Ahh well, that’s one less piece of clutter to worry about I suppose. Good job I emptied it.

The weather dramatically improved round about 14:00 and so I went for a walk along the old railway track bed along the southern shore of the Saint John River. Over there on the northern shore is the boat ramp where I had my lunch yesterday and so I took a photo of that as it looked so nice from here.

Back in town, I did a very silly thing.

When I was in Truro in 2010 I went for a wander around in a music shop and noticed a Roland Cube Amp. These little practice amps are about 15 or 20 watts and are battery-powered, running of 6xAA batteries or a 9-volt DC inverter. They cost $289 which isn’t all that much, and so I enquired if there was a bass version – one of these would really suit me back home.

I was told that there was one in the pipeline but it wasn’t available yet.

Anyway, to cut a long story short … "hooray" – ed … here in the music shop was a Roland bass cube amp, previously $319 (inflation over 3 years of course) reduced to a mere $149 in the summer sale. Borrowing a Fender Precision bass, I had a little play.

Now we are even more crowded here in the Dodge. Heaven alone knows what it will be like by the time we get to Woodstock, where we were half a mill … "you’ve done that twice already" – ed.

After finding a library book sale and a military tattoo (spelt correctly of course, this isn’t Maine), I went to listen to the bands. But not without being caught in one of the most trememdous thunderstorms I have ever seen. The lightning was magnificent and one burst of thunder, right over our heads, had everyone on the floor, including me, and we watched the rainstorm roar up the street to engulf us.

First band up was STU Jazz. 37 of them on the stage, so we are reliably informed, and that is about 34 too many if you ask me for my opinion. Like Mark Knopfler, I don’t give a damn about any trumpet-playing bands, and these weren’t up to all that much, even if they did have a lady bassist.

And while I was busy deleting a pile of photos thinking that I can do better than that, the performance came to an abrupt halt. The hurricane was heading back and the tent was not built to withstand it, neither was the grass floor.

We all trooped over to the Blues Tent to see World Party, a British blues duo.

They weren’t all that bad at all, and in fact could belt out some really serious blues when they really wanted to, which, unfortunately, wasn’t all that often.

And to prove how small the world has become, in the audience was a guy with a Nick Lowe tee shirt and we had a lengthy discussion about Brinsley Schwartz, a concert of whom I recently played on Radio Anglais, and it turns out that he’s a wine importer and
1 – he knows the Massif Centrale
2 – one of his clients is Simon Cowe, former bassist with LIndisfarne.

Headline act was a band from Florida, JJ Grey and Mofro. again, far too many musicians on stage – get rid of the horns and the keyboards would be a good start in my opinion.

And we had to wait until the middle of their set to see the first harmonica. Why can’t we have blues bands without harmonicas?

They were under-rehearsed and over-produced but could still belt out the serious blues every so often and I wish that they would have done more about that.

But then it was time to brave the torrential rainstorm again and, with a bag of chips from the Lebanese take-away, I headed for my camp site at the Mactaquac Provincial Park through the downpour.

-2

Tuesday 10th September 2013 – I HAD THE MOST UNEVENTFUL …

… drive down to Fredericton that I have ever had. There was nothing going on and nothing to report whatsoever … "hooray" – ed …

But in Woodstock earlier a few things happened.

Zoe and I picked up her price list and stuck it on the wall of her salon where it looks pretty good and effective. We did a few more things (and I’ve still forgotten to fasten her cupboard handles) and then I wandered off to see someone about another little project that I have in mind.

However, that won’t be happening, said he with deep regret.

A small piece of land that I’ve had my eye on for quite a while, well, they want a telephone-number kind of price for it. Its situation is such that it merits a few extra shillings, to be sure, but the price that they are asking is simply delusional. Even half of the asking price would be expensive.

In Fredericton I went to Value Village – the charity shop – to scan the books.

Here in Canada, there isn’t a variety of different charity shops as there is in the UK. All of the charities have joined together and have a charity megastore, and all of the items are colour-coded, the purpose of this I suppose is to tell which charity each item belongs to.

I always visit it because it’s a really good source of books on Canadian affairs, history, grography and the like, and I wasn’t disappointed. Six new books have found their way into the Dodge and now this place looks more like a library than anything else.

I picked up my Media Pass from the Harvest Jazz and Blues Festival offices at Regent Street (it helps, having your own media outlets back in France – good old Radio Anglais).

And Strawberry Moose was in his element – not only were there floozies to admire but they even dressed him up in Festival Gear and allowed him to be photographed with them.

What more does any Moose require?

Lunch was at the side of the river near the boat ramp and for some reason or other I crashed out here. And for a couple of hours too. It’s not as if I’ve been overdoing it or anything just recently.

What woke me up was the book sliding out of my hand and crashing down to the floor of the Dodge. I’d probably be still there now otherwise.

So off to the camp ground – this is at a place called Mactaquac about 20kms outside Fredericton and close to the big dam for the hydro-electric power station. This has created a huge lake and the campground is on the shores of the lake.

It’s a wilderness campsite run by the Province of New Brunswick and so there is a good deal of wildlife hanging around and because it’s protected, it doesn’t have too much of a fear of man.

Consequently there was quite a deputation of Strawberry Moose’s friends and admirers from previous years awaiting his arrival, all keen to continue their acquaintance.

So I’ve emptied the Dodge and tidied it out, and made tea. Now I’m off to bed for an early night. Of course, you can guess what Strawberry Moose will be doing.

-2

Monday 9th September 2013 – ZOE AND I …

… went to Woodstock again this morning. Mind you, it was pretty crowded in the Dodge because by the time we got to Woodstock we were half a million strong, of course … "you said that the other day" – ed.

Another not very successful day for shopping but at least Zoe has much more of an idea as to what she wants. And a stroke of luck – while we were there at her salon, there was an old woman sniffing around outside and so I packed Zoe off to make further enquiries, with the result that Zoe now has her first paying customer for tomorrow at 11:00. Good old Zoe.

I had some rather mixed fortunes in Woodstock though. Did I tell you that I have broken the zip on my suitcase? That’s rendered it impossible for further service and I was wondering how to bring my stuff back home. But we went into a second-hand shop in the town to look for an office desk for Zoe, and while we had no luck there for that, they had an enormous suitcase even bigger than mine. Not quite as many pockets though, but beggars can’t be choosers, especially at $10:00.

The bad news is that the Dodge was running rather roughly this morning and I wasn’t happy at all. I had a look at Woodstock and it seems that the rear brakes have been binding. The handbrake is one of these foot-pedal ones by the door pillar and it’s not as cleverly placed as it is on a Mercedes and it’s possible that I’ve stepped on it by accident and not noticed. Driving the Dodge around the car park a couple of times in reverse seems to have freed it off and so now I’ll have to see how I go with it.

Anyway, an early night is called for tonight as I’m hitting the road tomorrow for a week or 10 days. I’ll see you soon.

-4

EPIC HALL

The Poisoned Pen (or Poisoned Chalice, more like) – or my relentless struggle against reality

Monday 23rd September 2013 – THERE’S A LANE NOT FAR FROM HERE …

Sunday 22nd September 2013 – AND IT WAS AS WELL

Saturday 21st September 2013 – HERE IN MILLINOCKET …

Friday 20th September 2013 – AND WE’RE OFF …

Thursday 19th September 2013 – WE STARTED OFF THIS MORNING …

Wednesday 18th September 2013 – ET IN ACADIA EGO

Tuesday 17th September 2013 – BRRR IT WAS COLD …

Monday 16th September 2013 – I’M NOT AT ALL SURE …

Sunday 15th September 2013 – JUST FOR A CHANGE …

Saturday 14th September 2013 – IT WASN’T THE DRIVING, POUNDING RAIN …

Friday 13th September 2013 – IT WAS THE DRIVING, POUNDING RAIN …

Thursday 12th September 2013 – IT WAS THE DRIVING, POUNDING RAIN …

Wednesday 11th September 2013 – IT WAS THE DRIVING, POUNDING RAIN …

Tuesday 10th September 2013 – I HAD THE MOST UNEVENTFUL …

Monday 9th September 2013 – ZOE AND I …