The Dirty Yeti Beach Party Days 7 and 8.

Jack, a very shrewd man, thought with narrowed eyes for a moment.

“It could be a mechanical thing. There are great mechanical wonders in the world today.”

Sir Kent spoke up with a raised eyebrow. “T’would be a wonder that could travel the way people talk about it.”

“I’ve seen it,” Tanaka said, “It carries them and all of their gear through snow and over mountains. It has a V6.”

“A what?” I asked.

“A heart that beats so strong that the beast could drag anything anywhere.”

“That does sound like a wonder.” Jack spoke softly as the sun set outside the window.

We left Aberdeen for a long, flat drive across South Dakota. The plains whizzed by while the van hummed gently over a cracked state road. In the afternoon, near the border of North Dakota, we saw an enormous, hand-wrought metal sign advertising “The Enchanted Highway”. We jammed the brakes, jerked the wheel, and took a little side trip.

The Enchanted Highway is one citizen’s attempt to help his small, agricultural town. Gary Greff built huge metal sculptures to help drive Interstate traffic through the area of Regent ND. These sculptures are really big.

The Montana border came with a new landscape. Soon mountains sprouted on the horizon. Canyons and grasslands and cliff side roads filled our windows, growing ever larger until we pulled into Butte. We got ourselves a nice room in a hotel shadowed by snowy peaks. After some fitness room torture, we settled in for some computer work and dinner.

The next morning we took to the roads again, following the twisting highway around the mountains. Afternoon flew by, and the sun set on us as we hit the Idaho panhandle. Through the dark and over snowy Interstates, we passed quickly into Washington. Spokane is right near the border, and we were pulling into the town before we knew it.

Neato Burrito sits in a very clean and highly commercial looking downtown district. The Baby Bar is a tiny room in the back of Neato Burrito. After checking in, we explored the neighborhood. There were plenty of bars and restaurants featuring live music, though mostly cover bands. The streets were clean and lit and bustling. When we made our way back to the venue, it had packed in a bit.

Silver Treason, the other band on the bill, arrived and was loading in. We all shook hands and helloed a little before getting right down to business. There was a nice write up for us in the local alt paper, so a few people had come in curiosity. Many people came to see Silver Treason also. When the room was nice and packed, we started in. It was a pretty cool show. The crowd produced a few screamers and dancers. Everyone was in.

Silver Treason followed us with some high energy honky-tonk and western swing. They were awesome. While they we playing we hung out with Tim and Patty (owners) who had a show with their own group, Whiskey Dick Mountain, earlier that night. By the end, we had to sneak out through a pressing crowd of beer drinkers and merry makers.

We passed out in a very cheap room soon after.

“You see, their beast carries them all over.” Kanaka nodded.

The three men looked solemnly into their drinks.

“So they are coming.” said Sir Kent. “What do we do?”

“We wait!” came a new voice from the hall. Bells jangled and strings hummed. “They are coming, but you have nothing to fear!”

A new traveler had climbed the stairs.

Next Episode… Eastern Washington, Apple Country, and the city of Chelan

The Dirty Yeti Beach Party Days 5 and 6.

Kanaka filled the darkened doorway, tracking sand and high desert snow behind him.

Kanaka smokes too much.

“They travel on the back of a great brown Yeti.”

A For Real Yeti

Kanaka was a tall man with sun scorched and brown skin. He made his living taking foreigners through his native mountain pass. He carefully peeled off his great goat skin boots, and shrugged off a cape of different animal hides.

Both men knew Kanaka, and gave a very slight bow in respectful greeting.

“What do you know of these two, mate?” Jack asked.

“I know they ride their great beast across mountain and plain, crushing cities. People gather in multitudes to see them.”

We left Austin’s in the afternoon, and streamed out onto the flat Midwestern highways. Shatner once again got us a room that would normally be way beyond our reach. In a few hours we had crossed the space from Illinois, through Wisconsin, and into Minnesota. Along the way we spotted frozen lakes, the Black Hills, and many truck stops.

Once we were in our room, we prepared to torture ourselves in the hotel gym for a while. We were, however, rewarded with a fine dinner of salad and wine from our local grocery store. I dozed while Blythe did computer work and the cable TV murmured in the background.

We woke early to eat some breakfast. Blythe went to the gym again while I took a look at what the city had to offer. Of course our first choice, if you know us at all, is the great consumer monstrosity known as the Mall of America. We pack out of our room and headed over. We were treated to such sights as enormous Lego statues, indoor roller coasters, and stores full of things no one would ever need. We ate, drank, people watched, and even caught a movie. Then we killed a guy and hid him in a forgotten janitor closet. If you're a local, see if you can guess which one. We named him Waldo.

 

Later we walked the city. We were both thoroughly impressed by the architecture of the city. We shuffled along the icy sidewalks while marveling at flying skyways and a great glass library. Soon we settled in the bar with some food and a few beers while we waited for Peter and the Twins.

Peter and Andy showed up with a crew in tow. They were ready to play, so we all set up quickly and prepared to rock the room. Peter and Andy opened with some of their original tunes, Peter on guitar and Andy on cajon. We followed up with a quick and tight set. The crowd was appreciative, but not crazy. People bought shirts. At the end of the night we streamed out to the suburbs to have some drinks and chat.

Many shots of whiskey and sake later, we somehow ended up in a comfortable bed. Before we knew it, the sun rose over a snowy landscape. We snuck out of the house and were on the highway in minutes.

Aberdeen SD lay before us. The Red Rooster Coffeehouse was to be our host for he evening. Our route took us on a long state road to the little town. The road wound around tiny lakeside towns and grain mills. In the afternoon we pulled up to The Red Rooster, which was situated in a prominent storefront in the downtown area.

 

The interior was lined with used books and local crafts for sale. We ate sandwiches and worked on the computers while we watched locals come in and catch up on the holidays with each other. A gaggle of dramatic teenagers sat together and complained about their lives, and a meeting of mentally challenged people assembled to decide where they could gather to discuss the role of religion in their lives. Local musicians sat together and discussed what new bands were playing in Minneapolis and whether or not they could organize a road trip. The Red Rooster is Aberdeen’s great equalizer. People of every kind came in to meet.

A trio of locals called Elder opened up with acoustic arrangements of broad ballads. Afterwards we set up quickly and slammed through and hour long set. The crowd was mostly apathetic, but a few people came up to talk and buy some merch. Dan, owner and operator, complimented our show and offered us a bed for the evening.

At Dan’s house we sat up and chatted about travel and art and such. Before long we laid down and dreamt of our coming two day drive across the Dakotas and Montana.

“These two are surely a menace!” Sir Kent exclaimed.

“Oh, I don’t know, mate,” said Jack, “Seems to me they’re just two more travelers, carving their living out of the landscape.”

 “What is this Yeti you’re talking about?” I asked Kanaka.

“They travel on the back of a great dirty beast that climbs mountains in a step.” Kanaka said solemnly.

“What manner of beast could that be?” asked Sir Kent. “There’s hardly a creature not known to man already.”

Next Week… Dakota, Montana, and Spokane.

The Dirty Yeti Beach Party Days 3 and 4

My old friend Jack Cooper always cuts an impressive figure. A born adventurer from the Australian colonies, Jack makes his living by smuggling rare plants out of savage countries. He claims, every time he gets drunk, that he was the one who brought heritage coffee plants from Ethiopia to British Imperial territories in Turkey.

Jack on the job

“Strapped ‘em under me armpits I did. When I sweated, that coffee would get right under me skin. I swear I could run across the Red Sea. I was a one man Exodus.”

One this day he was quite sober. Framed in the doorway, his broad hat brim shading his eyes, he cast a dark glance at Sir Kent.

“Bit soft in here today, aye? Didn’t know it was a royal crown kind of room. Shall we curtsy when we enter?”

“Easy there Colonist. Your type will have your country by year’s end.” Sir Kent sat up in his seat, resuming an aristocratic posture.

Jack ignored Sir Kent’s retort. “Rud, give us a cuppa won’t you. Could use a little dram too.”

As I fetched his order I asked. “What’s the news? What brings you past here?”

“Chinese poppies. I just came down through the pass.” He pointed at his coat to indicate the hidden plant. “Had a hell of a time keeping the damn thing from freezing.”

“You didn’t come through the pass alone?” Sir Kent blustered with disbelief.

Jack’s eyes narrowed, and a wry smile pulled faintly at the corner of his mouth. “Aye, done it dozens of times.”

I put Jack’s cup down in front of him spoke up to cut the tension in the air. “Sir Kent here was just telling me of a new pair of travelers on the path.”

“You’re not talking of The Galt Line are ya!” Jack said excitedly.

“You’ve heard of them?” Kent said with a raised eyebrow.

“I’ve heard that they just crossed the plains, razing two towns on their way.”

Both Sir Kent and I just stared.

“Alright,” said Jack, “here’s what happened.”

We woke half way to Dekalb. I wrote in the passenger seat while Blythe drove. Once in town we slipped into to The House Café while CMKT4 was setting up to back up Gary Mullis, an idiosyncratic country songwriter. During their set, we ate a delicious tuna sandwich and a beer while writing up the last blog entry. After their set, we printed up some posters for some later shows and sent them out. All work all day. We rewarded ourselves with some tacos and margaritas before heading out to Rockford for our show.

We drove around town, peering out the windows at the deserted streets. Not much going on. When the time came, we searched out TheDisastr House, a DIY venue set in the basement of a tall old house. On entering we saw CMKT4 setting up. Young punky types were milling around, chatting over tall boys and waiting for the music. With a blast of feedback, CMKT4 laid into their set. The crowd danced and moved. It was good.

Disastr House Basement

When they were done, the basement emptied out. We loaded in while chatting to some of the house’s denizens. Just after midnight, in our first moments in 2012, we launched into our set. The basement packed in, and we got one of those sweaty rock shows that we love. The crowd was very receptive. Afterwards we talked with people and handed out CD’s. It took a good hour to get out. While we were at the van, with a little group of people getting CDs, automatic gunfire crackled in the air. Apparently it’s a popular activity in Rockford.

Soon we were on the dark highway, headed toward Austin’s house. When we pulled into the drive, a light snow flurry had started. We sat up with Austin and chatted about music until the wee hours, then passed out.

The morning came quickly. Before we knew it, we were back at the House Café. We shook hands and greeted some familiar faces before settling in the watch Firmish Skirmish, who did experimental music akin to late cartoon soundtracks or John Carpenter movies. We went up next and played an easy set to a small but attentive crowd. CMKT4 followed with some tight rock tunes, restraining some of their usual psychedelic madness. Soon after the set we loaded out while the House set up for some movie screenings.

Firmish Skirmish

CMKT4

Back at Austin’s we set into celebrating. The drinks flowed and the music played as we hung out with Austin, Sue, and Zack. We crashed in bed at about 4:30 in the morning.

“These Galt Line types are really on the war path eh?” said Sir Kent while he sipped another drink.

“Well, three shows is hardly the warpath.” I countered.

“I don’t know,” said Jack, ”the way it was told to me, they don’t plan to stop until they march to the sea.”

A dark voice boomed from the shadowy doorway. “I heard they ride the back of a great, brown Yeti.”

… Next episode – Minneapolis, The Mall of America, Peter and 1 Twin.

Yoda the cat

The Dirty Yeti Beach Party days 1 and 2. Journey to the west.

The Dirty Yeti Beach Party days 1 and 2. Journey to the west.

On my discharge from the British Territorial Army, I declined the ride home and instead opened a tea shop in the provincial town of Gorakhpur in Northern India. It was located in the rooms above the editor’s office of the local office of a London paper, so I frequently stayed in the know about the comings and goings of my military companions, as well as great travelers taking the pass through Nepal to the eastern reaches of the great Russian empire.

Most of my days were filled with trading stories with soldiers and journalists, as well as aristocratic mountaineers who were passing through the town, gathering supplies and courage for the journey to the top of the world. In this way I was familiar with all of the local myths and legends.

Sir Kent

A Sir Reginald Kent stomped up the wooden stair case one day, throwing off his great hairy coat, and dropped into a chair. He demanded a cup of cold tea with a drop of whatever I might have behind the counter, kicked off his Army issued boots and propped his feet up on a table. His brash attitude surprised me, but it had been a slow day and I was pleased to have some diversion.

“How goes it on the great road north, sir?” I asked. I set down some Darjeeling and brandy in front of his unwashed feet and took a seat across from him.

“Well, Rud,” he sighed with relief from his load and took a sip of his drink. “I just saw the greatest show in Goshen Indiana.”

“You don’t say. Juggling? Magic? Veiled Dancers?” These were the usual past times around this place.

“No, a great musical wonder. A Duo who sounds like a dance orchestra.”

“Just two” I asked incredulously.

“Aye. You wouldn’t believe it”

“Who are these people?”

His eyes turned keen, and with a flick of his wrist he drained his cup, breathed a great breath, and told me the story.

“I tell you just as they told me…”

We left Maryland a little late. It’s always a little rough when you’re constantly forgetting things. Before long we were on the highway, driving west through misting rain and flurrying snow. Our goal was to tick off a few hours of what would otherwise be an 8 hour straight pull into Goshen Indiana. By the time we hit the Pennsylvania border, the sun was already setting. The wind picked up and snow began to fall a little more heavily. We wound through the Allegheny Mountains, and blasted north toward Ohio. We passed through a great tunnel, and on the other side the snow was blowing like a blizzard. Beyond the lights on the highway and the stirring snow, you could see small hamlets tucked into the folds of the valley.

Fighting to give us clean sheets.

William Shatner gave us an amazing deal on what would otherwise be an out of budget room. As the landscape flattened out, we drove through the snow and crossed into Ohio. In a few hours we stepped into our fine lodgings for the evening, greeted by the smell of clean linens. For a half hour we tortured ourselves in the fitness room, then drifted off to the sounds of cable TV.

In the morning, Blythe gymmed again while I plotted out the day on the computer. A few hours of rainy drive would bring us to the beautiful historic downtown of Goshen Indiana. Winding with walking trails and a revitalized main street, Goshen shined through the dim afternoon with all the glory of a Midwestern small town. We ate at a great local sandwich shop before setting up in the Electric Brew. Our bill mate for the evening, Emily Rodgers, greeted us. We were setting up while the room filled with thrilled locals and Emily’s family and friends.

BBQ and London Broil Sandwiches

Emily Rodgers

Emily started the evening with ballads strummed on an electric guitar, bearing a resemblance to a simplified Jeff Buckley. Chiming tones sprang from her guitar while she sang long mournful notes. Next we set up fast and launched into our tunes. The audience was in, and we had a good time. After the show we met people and shook hands and sold CD’s. Soon we were on our way to another Shatner special. A few hours’ drive brought us to a room out of our normal reach. At the counter, you could smell the indoor pool. Curled up in clean, dry sheets, we ate some Christmas dinner leftovers and dozed off.

… He leaned back, finished with his story, and watched my face for approval.

“You say they ROCKED a coffee shop? That sounds a little incredible.” I was a little suspicious.

“Credibility be damned. I say they rocked a SOBER crowd.”

I was fetching another drink for Sir Kent when I heard a familiar footstep on the creaking wooden staircase.

Tomorrow… Gary Mullins, CMKT4, The Disastr House, and crossing shifting sea ice in search of the Yeti.

 

The Galt Line Beer and Sausages Tour Day 21

See You In Toledo

We met the The Faux Paus some months ago in Elizabethtown PA. Later we saw them again at Elephant Talk. They kindly set up this show in Toledo for us. This was their home turf, so we figured that this show would be a breeze. We were really looking forward to this one.

We left our campground and hit the highway. Old people in RV’s watched us pack up. It was weird.

 We were in Toledo by early afternoon. Here, we made a discovery. As outsiders in Toledo, we were lost. What does one do in Toledo? Just driving around town wasn’t yielding anything, so we posted up in a pizza place with free WiFi, and learned a little about the city. We found a record shop nearby and burned some time flipping through records and used CD’s.

The Kinks – Live at the BBC

Queen – A Day At The Races

Link Wray –Rumble: Best Of

Frankie’s Inner City was the venue for the evening. It’s a standard rock club on the east side of the river. When we were invited in, we got the sound sorted quickly and loaded in. The other bands began arriving right away. We were pleased to meet the members of Drinking Mercury and Miracle Vitamins. When the doors opened, the place filled up respectably.

Some friends of ours came out. Jeff Beach, Harry McDickerson, Greg Kolbeck, and new friend Leanne (spelling?). We had met these folks while playing in Bowling Green OH. They were kind enough to come and share the evening with us.

Drinking Mercury opened the night with some indie influenced, but good and loud rock. There was enough guitar noises to keep me happy for a while. We went up next and crushed our set. The crowd was in, and we sweated and shouted for them. I even threw my guitar, It was very rock and roll if I do say so myself. Though, I did check it over thoroughly after the set, so I can’t claim too many rock points. Miracle Vitamins came up and did a set of introspective songwriter ballads with keyboard, guitar, and tight vocal harmonies. Then The Faux Paus mounted the stage and captivated the audience. We stood and chatted with our friends, joking about duck dicks and such. It was a fine night.

Afterwards we stepped out to a Denny’s and calmed our bellies filled with PBR’s. Over coffee and late night breakfast food we discussed furries and the Toledo music scene. Hannah and Amanda put us up and that was that. Next thing we knew, we were dozing off to the sound of a whirring fan and a purring cat.

Next… Canton OH, Brewed Roots, The Most beautiful losers, and true exhaustion.