September 2003 - Scotland and Part 2 of the UK Tour
Monday 1st
The next ten days of this tour were set aside to spend in
Scotland. Mostly we wanted to go hiking and relax, though we did manage to
book a couple of concerts. It took about ten hours to drive to our
destination. We traveled through Birmingham and the industrial midlands,
past Carlisle in the north, skirting the Lake District, into Scotland,
around Glasgow, then further north and west. The roads became smaller as we
entered the Argyll District. We drove up and around various lochs, through
small stony towns to reach the tiny coastal village of Ard fern where Susan
had friends to stay with.
Everything is different here. Contrary to industrial England, Scotland is more like Northern Maine. The light is softer here. It descends at an angle, and seems to bring more color out of what it touches. The air is sweeter, with a moist, piney quality to it. This western part of Scotland is very Gaelic, and the names of places and words on signs reflect that. We take for granted that we should be able to pronounce everything we read in an English speaking country, but not here. I had to rely upon Sue for translations of nearly everything I read. It’s here that you see the contrast between Roman influenced England and non-Roman Scotland. The Romans made it up here, but the Scots were barbaric, and the climate too miserable for them to think the land worth conquering. They built Hadrian’s Wall in the borderlands, and called it a day. Consequently, Scotland feels as different as can be from anything in the south.
I was surprised to see logging trucks barreling down these roads, as there are almost no trees on the mountains in Scotland, denuded as they were, centuries ago. What there is, are plantations of quick growing pine trees. Which proved to me that you can grow trees here, and that the mountains could be forested. Outside tonight, I could smell the peat fires burning. There is little wood, but peat is a-plenty. The water from the taps, like the whiskey, has a taste of peat to it, and the water in the tub is a light tea color. Harmless, and very Scottish.
Tuesday 2nd
Today we arose early to drive north to Oban to take the ferry over
to the Isle of Mull. We were scheduled to perform at the AnTobar Arts Centre
in Tobermory. The ferry port was a half hour south of town so without a
car, and no bus service, we stuck out our thumbs to hitch a ride. A burly
and friendly fireman promptly picked us up, and here I got my first taste of
how two opposing lanes of traffic (tour busses and trucks to boot) manage to
negotiate a narrow one-lane road! It takes foresight and consideration to
anticipate the pullouts to allow opposing traffic to pass.
Tobermory is the largest town on Mull, but is still quite small. One row of brightly painted buildings of all colors face the crescent port. Narrow streets and walkways rise into the village from behind this main street. The Arts Center sits atop of it all with a view of the port. That evening the sunset was visible not in the sky so much, but in the light reflected upon the bare hills of the mainland across the water. It evolved through a spectrum of yellows and golds to dusky reds and browns. We had a fine gig that evening, and many thanks to our host Gordon MacLean for making us welcome.
Wednesday, Sept. 3rd
Took the ferry back to Oban, reunited with our Mazda, and set off
north to the Isle of Skye. We had four days with no obligations but to
ourselves for walking and to absorb the country. We drove north on windy
roads past Fort William, took a turn west at Inverarry, through the
magnificent Glen Shiel, past the famous Eilean Donan Castle and over the
bridge to Skye. By nighttime we had settled into a B&B in Portree, and had
supper at the Tongadale Inn.
Thursday, 4th
Walking day. Bypassing the famous Glen Sligachan we made for a
more obscure trek. From the thatched croft village of Luib we hiked down the
Strath Mor to the village of Torrin then rounded the mountain and returned
up the Strath Beag taking in almost 11 miles total. We tread mostly upon
sheep paths cut eight inches wide into the peat, and crossed brooks and bog
where it was near impossible to keep one’s feet dry. Whaleback ridges and
swooping valleys rose dramatically around us carpeted in violet heather. The
colors of mosses, grasses, and delicate flowers were simply overwhelming. We
were lucky it didn’t rain that day, though it threatened, and at times the
wind blew very stiff. That evening back in Portree, we hobbled around on
sore muscles, found a stout meal then collapsed into bed well satisfied.
Friday, 5th
Drove north around the island today
keeping mostly to the coastline. We stopped intermittently to take in an
incredible view, or to walk around castle ruins. We named our condition:
“continual visual sensory overload,” with the beauty of the island. I also
felt a wave of recognition of how lucky I am to have a profession that takes
me to places like this. As the weather turned to rain that night, we found
ourselves in need of food, rest, and a desire to play some music. We chose a
pub for the food, then asked the fellow at the bar if he wouldn’t mind if we
played some fiddle tunes. Given the go-ahead for tunes, and a couple pints
on the house we noticed they had lodgings upstairs. Perfect. It’s my
favorite situation, you know: a meal, a pint, some tunes, and a comfy bed up
the stairs. Satistfied again.
Saturday, 6th
Said our farewells to Skye, and drove
back to the mainland. We still had a day before our next gig in Edinburgh,
so with limbs mostly recovered from Thursday’s walk we thought we’d try
another. This time we picked Glen Shiel. We spied a path going up to a
saddle between two mountains and walked toward it. The beauty of walking in
Scotland is that the visibility (given the mist isn’t down and it’s not full
out raining) is incredible. However, a fold in the terrain obscured a view
of our path, and we found ourselves walking up the mountain instead of to
the side of it. False summit, after false summit we climbed straight up at
least 2,500 feet. Our Mazda below looked like a white speck of dust. Upon
placing our stones on the cairn at the real summit, and getting a quick view
of the chains of mountains that linked together in the distance, we realized
a serious bank of the infamous Scottish mist was coming toward us. We made
haste down the mountain with the mist at our heels, my knees complaining
with the hard descent. At the bottom we toasted our hike with whiskey and
coffee, soup and my first haggis ever at the Cluanie Inn. (It was pretty
good too!) That night we found a modest hotel in Fort William on the High
Street. I took a dram of Glenmorangie into a hot soaking tub, and with it
contemplated the mountains across the loch.
Sunday 7th – Tuesday 9th
Our other two concerts in Scotland fell
between these three days. Edinburgh on Sunday at the Wee Folk Club in the
Royal Oak Tavern, where we engaged the promoter and a couple of locals in an
lengthy and detailed discourse on their opinions of various malt scotches.
It was an enlightening conversation on many levels. On Tuesday we played the
Montrose Folk Club on the eastern coast of Scotland. It was hosted by the
posh Links Hotel, which seemed to cater to every Musical and Sports event in
town. Casper, the proprietor, was a gregarious and generous gentleman that
made sure we had everything we needed.
Wednesday, 10th
Two days off now before the next gig
and we decided to check out Dunkeld, which is known for being home to Dougie
MacLean. Sue knew Dougie to own a pub and inn, so we kept our sight out and
soon located the Taybank Inn. The Inn, as its name implies, sits upon the
bank of the Tay River. Dougie had recently sold the Pub, but its new owners
are devoted to keeping its music scene alive. We found it very welcoming and
decided to base ourselves here for the next two nights. This evening we sat
and played fiddle tunes in the smoky, and lively atmosphere.
Thursday, 11th
This area of Perthshire is lush and
forested. The hills remind me of the Berkshires in the fall, as the foliage
was already changing and a chill was in the air. Today we thought we’d go
for one last Scotland walk. Until now we had managed to skirt any rainy
weather. However today, by the end of our five-mile walk up a gentle glen,
we were soaked and cold. Back at the Taybank we took a late, hot lunch then
basically retired for the day.
Friday, 12th
South through the border country we
drove, and descended back into England. Our destination tonight was a
village in Northumberland just north of Newcastle called Bedlington. This
gig was a last minute addition to our schedule. Attendance was sparse, so we
simply sat down in a circle and did our concert living room style.
Saturday, 13th
After a brief stop as tourists in Newcastle where we saw this incredible
new
Gateshead Millennium Bridge over the River Tyne, we drove on to our gig
at the Davy Lamp in Washington. This was the third year in a row at the Davy
Lamp so all felt good and familiar. It’s one of the best gigs in all of
England, and this night was no exception. There’s something about playing a
room like this that brings out a great performance. It’s a symbiotic thing.
The audience is generous and a performer will naturally reciprocate. Thanks
again, Davy Lamp!
Sunday 14th
We arose early the next morning
for a long drive south to the London area for a gig in Twickenham at The
Cabbage Patch Folk Club. This was to be our third gig in a row in a series
of ten. After arriving and getting a bite to eat, we found a walk along the
Themes River through gardens that had an amazing fountain with sculpted
horses and water nymphs. That night we stayed with Wendy Grossman at her
flat in the town of Kew.
Monday 15th
Waking up in Kew (home of Kew
Gardens) was a treat as we had a dire need for the necessities of laundry,
post office, bank, etc. In this quaint neighborhood, everything was at our
doorstep. Before leaving we had lunch outdoors at a café beneath giant
spreading Sycamore trees. Within sight, an old-fashioned butchers, a
neighborhood hardware store, used books, and stairs descending to the Tube
station. Next it was on to the Tudor Folk Club in Chesham north and west of
London.
Tuesday, 16th
Tonight, Dartford at the Working Man’s Club
for the Dartford Folk Club. “Day five of ten in a row,” is how we began
thinking at this point of the tour. The purpose was really to maintain
composure and do the best job possible at each gig. We were both tired and
on a roll. Each day is re-invented with a whole new set of people, in a new
folk club, all colorful, all interesting, delightful, and eager to hear the
music. Each night we summon the energy from god-knows-where and deliver our
best.
Wednesday, 17th
This day we drove across the waist of
England, from Dartford in the east to Bristol in the west. Bristol is a
really fantastic, vibrant, historic seaport and university town. Our first
bit of business was to make an appearance on BBC Bristol. First a check-in
with I.D. and passports, then badges to wear, then a gate to go through and
a special place to park the car. Sue commented on the amount of security,
and the guard replied, “Well, you should have been here last week.” We
postulated a terrorist threat was not so unusual.
The Albert Hole is the listening room of the Albert Inn, and is the venue for folk and jazz in Bristol. It’s a warm room with posters and photos of 23 years of music covering the walls. The audience was really with us, and generous all night long. Lorraine and Ian, our hosts, gave us a room upstairs, fed and drank us with good talk until we were too tired to sit up straight. Great gig!
Thursday, 18th
Onward! With the glow of Bristol in
us we put our sights on the village of Frome (sounds like “room”). Bath was
on the way, so with lunch on our mind we drove into the city. What a
glorious place! Stunning architecture, the Roman Baths, really good food and
shops. It took us by surprise.
In Frome our concert was at the Merlin Theatre. This 250-seat theatre had all the trimmings, the lights, the sound, the black stage and curtain, the crescent of seats rising above the stage. The focus that this environment creates does wonders to the delivery of a show. Lyrics and stories take on fresh significance. Nights like this, everybody goes on a magic carpet ride.
Friday, 19th
On our way out of Frome we decided to drive over to see the
standing stone circle at Avebury. Avebury is the largest stone circle in
Britain and predates Stonehenge by about 500 years. In addition, Silbury
Hill, and the Kennet Long Barrow burial mound are situated nearby. The stone
complex must have been magnificent before the Church in the 13th
century decreed it must be torn down. The locals, however, fearing the
devil’s retribution decided to bury the stones in pits rather than demolish
them outright. Later, other stones were broken up for construction of
buildings. Some of the buried stones were dug up in the 1930’s and restored
to their original place, but most of them are gone for good. What remains
though, is truly impressive, and leaves one with a sense of wonder about who
built it and why 4500 years ago.
We spent the rest of the day driving up to the Midlands for our gig in Burton on Trent at the Brew Town Folk Club. Here we went from the awesome to the ridiculous. Sue and I both love Bass Ale, and Burton on Trent is the home of Bass. Last year in Burton, I enjoyed looking up to the great tower in the center of town with the famous Bass red triangle on it. This year, upon entering town we saw – the Coors flag hanging on that very same tower! It seems Coors has bought out Bass. It felt like a slap on the face. It was as if the evil empire had triumphed over all that is sacred and good. Boooo! Our sprits did not quite recover until we began our gig, and allowed the audience to heal our bruised souls.
Saturday, 20th
Dawned green and cool with low overcast clouds. We played at the Queens
Head Pub in Belper tonight upstairs in the “Top Bar” which has had its share
of music events. There were posters of Martin Simpson, and Chris Smither,
and an array of English performers that I’d never heard of. Really fun
night, cheesy sound system, but the room was live enough to do it
semi-unplugged. The sets were very loose with lots of quips and variations
from the standard patter that has developed over the course of this tour.
After nine gigs in as many nights, we barely had to work to play the music;
it just flowed. We played a few more fiddle tunes, as there were some people
who had come expressly to hear the fiddle, which was great, and happens more
often over here in England than it does in the States.
Sunday, 21st
Today, it’s past Manchester and Liverpool to Southport on the
coast. The end of the tour is coming nigh, and we could use a rest. The
Bothy Folk Song Club is one of these dyed-in-the-wool Clubs that have been
around for 30 years. A handful of the same patrons still attend the concerts
that founded it. The quality of the floor singers was really good, and
everybody in the room was eager to sing. There was a palpable sense of
community and history here, with song being the fiber and bond between
everyone. I think we sang with more grit and focus this night as we were
battling fatigue. We were rewarded with booming applause after the encore.
All was right with the world.
Tuesday 23rd
Back in Northampton now with a day of
rest behind us. Today is Sue’s birthday, so I made a special dinner for Sue,
Steafan, Saskia, and the wee Hannigans. Tonight we celebrate the end of a
fantastic tour with one last gig at the Great Knight Folk Club here in town.
‘Twas a great night indeed with fantastic floor singers;
Dan Plews did a
spot, and Simon
Care, a great melodeon player, did one as well. Of course there was the
big Happy Birthday song, which made Sue blush big time. Sue deserved a
special last gig of the tour. She, in five weeks, became transformed into a
musical touring machine, capable of maintaining musicality, grace, and good
humor despite all nature of adverse conditions.
Thursday, 25th
After one more day off spent buying our
own supply of tea, gifts for friends, and sprucing up our dear Mazda we
packed and prepared for the flight home. Our agent Vivienne took us down
strategically chosen secondary roads to make it to Heathrow by 9am. Morning
rush hour to London is beyond description, and I think would put anything in
Los Angeles or Washington D.C. to shame. We wanted as little to do with it
as possible. Safely abroad our plane, we just sat back. When the time came
to order gin and tonics we went at it with abandon. After supper and a
couple of movies I managed a nap with my head still swimming with images of
Avebury, The Merlin Theatre, Simon Care’s melodeon, Towersy, Bridgnorth, and
on and on.
Lovely time…let’s do it again. Next year?
Hope you enjoyed the read
Keep in touch, and see you next month.
- Dana