While there is limited lucre in music, there seems to be adequate demand for Scamp trailers that are painted to look like an Airstream. At Blondie’s in Arcata, a woman handed me a piece of paper with her name, email, and phone number. “If you ever want to sell that trailer, call me.”
At Blondie’s we played to a few before heading out over the mountains to Medford and Ashland, where we connected with Rosa’s sister and played at Saki bar called Chozu. Two slow gigs in a row translated to a bang-up gig in Bend, Oregon at Dudley’s. Here, people filtered in the minute Rosa started playing. The owner, Rebecca, warmly welcomed us. An English woman with wit and moxie, Rebecca has a big old water jar in the back of the joint with a sign that says Gin and Tonic. “You’d never believe how many people ask me if there’s really gin and tonic in there.” I guess people often believe what they read, especially if it’s convenient.
Bend is a charming town—one coffee shop downtown has a huge yard in back filled with tables and lounge chairs that look out over the river. We camped along the river in a campground with solar showers and a Bible group near us blaring Rush Limbaugh. There seems to be healthy mix of “types” in Bend. We’ll call it a crossroads because it is for us, and when you’re on tour you live by projection.
I think it was the bass player or drummer of Joy Division who once said he was more of a mover than he was a musician. We haul in. We haul out. We haul North. We haul East. We haul. We haul. We’re coming.