Outside of Greer, South Carolina
We made it. I say so because there were some moments yesterday that we doubted. We doubted we would get out of Greenville Airport. There are 2 highways out of the airport, and no matter how many people we asked, we couldn't get anyone to tell us any different. So we had no choice but to bush-whack through the wet grass beside the Number 14 road to Greer. Did I mention it was raining? Torrentially. I discovered my glasses are not useful in warm rain, and chose short-sightedness over foggy lenses. Half blind, I followed Brendan's rig - bike and BOB trailer that held our fiddle and mandolin, through the red mud and tall grass beside the freeway. We turned off at the first smaller road available. It was 6pm and we were racing the approaching dark which we were told would come before 8pm.
Directions from a United States Postal employee who had a map, led us through the 'black town' in preference to the No. 14 freeway (against his advice), and into Greer. All we saw in the 'black town' were nice houses and not one black person. Empty, rain sodden lawns and homes.
Greer, like Greenville, was pretty, and to our Alaskan eyes, quaint. The historic buildings are a welcome relief to the monotonous strip malls of Alaska.
The ride from there was dusky. It took us back to the dreaded #14 road, and finally onto quiet roads - Belmont, Jug Factory Road, and finally to Jordan Road, which leads to heaven. From dense woods, huge oaks, dark streams, to open farms, Brendan wondered at the quiet roads and if we might have got the dates of the festival wrong.
Then finally rising over a hill, the sound of a chord, and the smokey hint of meat on a fire. The festival.
Whooping and pedaling faster now, we came to a gate and a sign, and other traffic, and music - a muddy red driveway down down to the festival ground. Blind with wet foggy glasses in the dark, I stumbled to keep up with Brendan who excitedly threw down his rig and rushed to the ticket tent. I carefully made my way to a tree to prop my bike. I moved slowly, because finally I did not have to rush. Drenched and depleted of blood sugar, I maneuvered myself delicately so as not to wake the demons. Finally free of the bike rig and helmet, I turned to meet our destination.
In the valley below, nestled amongst tall and ancient oaks, was a brightly lit stage, and from it, a cacophony of bluegrass erupted. It was Larry Sparks. Surrounding the stage, under the protection of the stage eves, were rows of audience in deck chairs, and further back, across the rainy field, were more audience in rain shelters, and rapt Skunk-attendees. Children, beers, dogs, and woodsmoke cluttered the area with a friendly, welcome atmosphere.
With pink bands on our wrists we were greeted by a man named Jordan, who saw our bikes and was inspired to come over and hand us a beer. We had arrived, and it felt so good. As I had discovered in 2001 riding a bicycle around Tasmania with Sess; on a bike trip you earn it.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Holly's Wedding
Girdwood, Alaska
This weekend Holly got married to Brian in the Meadows at the top of Crow Creek Road. It was what some might call a casual wedding. The bride and groom are pushing 40 with two children already, but the time had come to make it official. There was a high percentage of musician-friends who came to celebrate, as well as play for the ceremony. We are a motley crew - Alaskan women brush the dust off dresses that have not been worn in months, and men find a bright pair of suspenders or a hat to give their ensembles an air of formality.
They found a minister with a good sense of humor who was willing to make the treck to the base of the mountains to a small clearing in the neck-high grasses and cows pasnip to wed them. There was some small talk of Jesus and then they were married, and the minister found a handy guitar case on which to rest his bible and gain the signatures of the couple and two witnesses, to make things official. Murray later confirmed that it was the closest his guitar case had ever been to a bible.
Friends reunited after a summer of jobs in the field. The reception was held down the road at Crow Creek Mine. The local Homer band and friends, Raging Cajun, played until they were exhausted and then the job was taken over by various old time musicians amongst us in the Pavillion, where a wood stove kept us warm from the cool fall night.
This weekend Holly got married to Brian in the Meadows at the top of Crow Creek Road. It was what some might call a casual wedding. The bride and groom are pushing 40 with two children already, but the time had come to make it official. There was a high percentage of musician-friends who came to celebrate, as well as play for the ceremony. We are a motley crew - Alaskan women brush the dust off dresses that have not been worn in months, and men find a bright pair of suspenders or a hat to give their ensembles an air of formality.
They found a minister with a good sense of humor who was willing to make the treck to the base of the mountains to a small clearing in the neck-high grasses and cows pasnip to wed them. There was some small talk of Jesus and then they were married, and the minister found a handy guitar case on which to rest his bible and gain the signatures of the couple and two witnesses, to make things official. Murray later confirmed that it was the closest his guitar case had ever been to a bible.
Friends reunited after a summer of jobs in the field. The reception was held down the road at Crow Creek Mine. The local Homer band and friends, Raging Cajun, played until they were exhausted and then the job was taken over by various old time musicians amongst us in the Pavillion, where a wood stove kept us warm from the cool fall night.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Fall
Anchorage Hillside and Girdwood
After a weak summer the nights are cooler and some stray trees have already put on their blushing colors and there's no denying fall is here. We have started the usual autumn things; looking for edible mushrooms with our limited mycological identification skills, picking blueberries, and enjoying the company of friends who return after a summer scattered accross the state.
After a weak summer the nights are cooler and some stray trees have already put on their blushing colors and there's no denying fall is here. We have started the usual autumn things; looking for edible mushrooms with our limited mycological identification skills, picking blueberries, and enjoying the company of friends who return after a summer scattered accross the state.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Gas Prices
Anchorage, Alaska
One of the major preoccupations for Alaskans in these past months is fuel prices. Still far lower than Australian fuel prices, Alaskan are having a difficult time swallowing the cost of filling up their tanks. I am unsympathetic. I have set myself up in a situation where I use a relatively small amount of gas each month. I have an enjoyable bike ride to work, and our trips to Talkeetna have been few and far between. It has been interesting to be in the USA at a time when gas prices have increased enough to neccessitate behaviour changes in the Average Joe.
One of the major preoccupations for Alaskans in these past months is fuel prices. Still far lower than Australian fuel prices, Alaskan are having a difficult time swallowing the cost of filling up their tanks. I am unsympathetic. I have set myself up in a situation where I use a relatively small amount of gas each month. I have an enjoyable bike ride to work, and our trips to Talkeetna have been few and far between. It has been interesting to be in the USA at a time when gas prices have increased enough to neccessitate behaviour changes in the Average Joe.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Summer Walks
Potter Ridge
This weekend Teeny, Ray, Bob, and I hit Potter Ridge, a walk above Anchorage that none of us had before walked. Good views, varied vegetation, and interesting finds were had by all. I found the documentation for a dog's cremated remains at one particularly picturesque viewpoint, and at the top of the mountain I found an old porn magazine focusing on college girls, that had been carefully stashed between rocks in a ziplock bag, obviously forgotten and then munched-on by some rodent.
This weekend Teeny, Ray, Bob, and I hit Potter Ridge, a walk above Anchorage that none of us had before walked. Good views, varied vegetation, and interesting finds were had by all. I found the documentation for a dog's cremated remains at one particularly picturesque viewpoint, and at the top of the mountain I found an old porn magazine focusing on college girls, that had been carefully stashed between rocks in a ziplock bag, obviously forgotten and then munched-on by some rodent.
Monday, July 07, 2008
Powerline Pass
Powerline Pass, Alaska
A weekend overnight hiking trip. Camping by a lake surrounded in snow. Mid summer.
A weekend overnight hiking trip. Camping by a lake surrounded in snow. Mid summer.
