liber V

liber V

leaving duluth we stopped for supplies and made some informal decisions

to camp the night. after an hour or so of joking, smoking, and driving

back south we picked a state park just off the interstate. in fact

i remember the highway cutting right through the path of several, guiding

us to our history, taking us to our fate. after pitching the tent and

struggling to start a fire with freshly dampened wood. we even bought

some at the gate, like good little tourists, but it was wet as well.

so to no avail and 6 beers later,

we went for a tromp through the woods. we had some map they gave us at

the gate, like good little tourists but failed to remember to bring it,

like good little tourists.

following the path in circles it seemed. losing the path altogether

and deciding to just get moving toward some river the rangers had mentioned.

bushwack those ferns. hop this log. ohh whats that. looks like somebody's

home. a nice nest i'm guessing. and then the rush of the st. croix river

running in the distance. a herd of horses passing in a breeze. finding a

simple place to sit and gaze into the river's flow, we took off our shoes and

socks to dangle our feet in the fresh clean water. still without a shower.

busting out the whiskey. he staked some claim that there were animals and

creepy crawlies in the water. i assured him "yeah, probably, leeches

main..." "Leeches!" it escaped him before i had finished. "yeah, no big deal,

you probably won't catch anthing." i was unaware of how my up bringing

had been nothing but well-rounded, but lacking discipline. i couldn't

understand the aversion to life but to each their own. needless to say

after several conversations exaulting our pride that we were on our own

a few spats to see who might fall in, and fumbling with our wit and

strange associations, his feet were covered in leeches. i counted

at least 5 just on his right foot. after laughing and gathering the

humor in the moment, i helped him pick them off, or maybe he did that himself.

drying our feet, rolling on our socks, stringing up our shoes, we headed

back the road we took, a pet-peev of mine, but it had turned dark, and i decided

not voice this. getting back to the site we though it might be a good idea

to move camp. we were the only one's around, it seemed, except for that old

couple who have probably lived there since march, the only one's that mattered.

throwing the tent on the car, sleeping bags and all, who wants to undo whats just

been done. we drove the 500 feet or so to a campsite with some more cover, rain

was brewing in the air. after settling in and getting a fire started, finally,

we got out dinner and went to town. cutting up this, chopping that, frying up

some salami and cheese on a make shift skillet. we played music and laughed into

the evening. two together at the hour of the wolf. howling at the moon.

i wonder why i had not done this earlier. i had the opportunities. i had

the self-reliance. and the luck. this was great and i believe he felt the same.

liber III and IV

LIBER III

we wound out of the last gas station in town and hit the sweeping backroads of a wisconsin after midnight. i remember two shadowy black clouds lingering about in the clear sky. ominous but

strikingly beautiful. i thought about the road further up ahead, the road further back behind, but i was drawn into their passing. i fast lost track of where i was, where i've been, and where i was going. i fell into the darkness to try to dream a dream with a happy ending. we arrived at the farmer's market in the early hours after another fuel up and a caffiene injection. we sat idle as the trucks were unloading in the frosty pre-dawn minnesota morning. it was still dark out. i could still see the stars. after some jostling to get comfortable, at least as much as anyone could

in a packed car, we lingered in the silence. as we huddled in the car that night far from the cold breathe of the north country air, the headlamps were burning bright. in mere hours, the faintest shimmer of sunrise could be seen reflecting off the sky scraping windows of downtown st. paul. the farmer's market was somewhat located between the two cities so that we were positioned across the river on the west bank. we finally woke to be greeted by the hustle bustle through a white-washed windsheild and a dead battery.

carefully assessing the situation and the issue at hand. we got some coffee and wandered through the stalls. we saw some razzle dazzle produce vendors. lots of in season berries, flowers, and tomatoes. they poured out from all directions and hasted the attention this way and that. memories of caprese salad. the first flowers i had given to a girl, which were subsequently thrown to the trash. slowly rising fresh baked blueberry muffins in the oven. as we wished, we

languished in the tight thouroughfares. there were many voices and noises. through it all though i thought i caught the faint sound of a cello, nevermind just the squeeky brakes of a slowly backing pick-up truck. as we moved on there was a local artisan fellow who made tin sculptures of every imaginable animal. they were painstakingly painted. he stood overseeing his cageless jungle zoo. the master craftsmen of his scrap metal utopia. there were frogs and elk, and moose, and cows, and big midwestern trees of the variety disiduous. then there was a pack of wild roosters that seemed to follow us around. as we ventured on into each ally of the bizaar there seemed to be a

rooster of some size and personality waiting for us. there was a wooden carving of one about the form of a midget with this big ole cheesire grin. he was located on the opposite side of

the market. there were little one's on necklaces being sold by some big strange women of scandanavian decent. she lorded over them with disparaging eyes for the passer byes and prospective buyers. only earlier that week we had seen the bust of a rooster attached to the

roof of a limosine but in hyde park. as we scoured the last row i gave up hope. a found David McGee was not to be.

we lingered back to the car weighing options of whether or not to take the advantage of the moment and play for coins. i believe i passed on the chance citing my reasons as it was cold and that we had missed the peak hours of attendence. i am not sure why i backed away with cowardice. too attached maybe to the most immediate venture of how to get the car started again. we approached the mighty can can, as we had dubbed her. we entered and sat for sometime debating. eventually i made the choice to brave the weather once again and search out a welfared action of humanity. one lady passed in her van. she didn't have jumper cables and neither did we; at least we thought. the next car was not even interested in stopping to give us bad news. somewhat defeated i turned around to a suburban backing in in front of us. a great big family of midwestern folks. we asked and they obliged but they were going to do some shopping around first. after a short period, during which we took the time to tear apart the freshly packed

trunk for cables, the two men of the family appeared. a son and a father. they had found us some jumper cables and so did we! so much fortune had befallen us in our happenstance. we jumped the battery. we were quickly on our way, but not after formal gratitudes and a handing off of some wares in trade. we were back in business and in enough time to make the show in duluth. an industrial capital forged from the iron belt. built with the hands of great lake sailors.

LIBER IV

lost. we made some wrong turns and ended up going west when we should have been headed north. what a confusing set of interstates. we stopped for a gas up, got directions and forged ahead. the road we traveled was lined with pine. clear blue skies caved in from above. for just a few hours we wound the curves, gazed down the straights toward the mighty port town of the north. trudging up an enormous hill we gazed down over duluth with eyes freshly glazed. we arrived earlier than needed and most shops were open. so we staked out the venue of the evening. a nice comfy spot with affordable prices. a quick sandwich and a walk around the area. we hit the town with adventure fresh in the bones. stopping at the local instrument shop minutes before they opened we meandered the block, biding our time. it was just a quick stop to pick up some strings and a new capo. in the midst of moving, i had misplaced the one i had and was in need of a replacement, since we would be on the road for a few months. we then went for a drive. we saw a mountain and decided to climb it. going through some neighborhoods we thought would provide a way to the top, we crossed some abandoned railroad tracks only to be met by a man. an old man. he told us to turn around and not only go back from where we came but to leave town by way of a bridge to wisconsin, not yet crossed or even seen.

headed back away we snaked around the shadow side. eventually topping the mount, nearly. still above us to the left was a 30 foot march. he took the path, i climbed a tricky slope. arriving nearly at the same time, we sat and gloried over the valley. a lake sat square in the distance. its shores slowly wrapping, hugging the land with gentle embrace. the passing ships seem stilled in the superiour. the north wind came swinging in later that day but at the time it seemed quited by our most recent accomplishment. we had ten mountains to climb. this was the first. after a straight back down hill slide running dodging in an out the saplinged trees. well why not lets check out the other side of the river. across that bridge we were so lucky to hear about. jumping back in can can then turn up the music and scream back down the mountain. ahhhhhhhh! one way streets everywhere. confused without the map we missed the turn and went this way and that. back and forth. round a few corners. we were fortuned by luck, the bridge entrance stood right before us. over into superior, wisconsin. a quick read through the streets nearest the

other side of the bridge we determined that the people we planned to play to were humble midwest folks, aware of their inequities. heart on sleeve kind of people. with honesty and sincerity as the only necessities. back across the bridge we pandered to duluth's subtle hint at tourism. the paid parking lot for a beach to rival any boardwalk this side of kenosha. it mocked the free parking spots just across the street. we found a few remnants of the old dock yards. large log type posts i sat on and pretended to be james dean. the anchor he sat on. an image concocted from some hieronymus bosch paranoia. ironic, fitting, and just. we gathered some notes from the light house at the end of the pier. a little history of duluth. by now i've nearly forgotten it. there are just a few things i now remember. it used to be Ojibwa and it had been home to millionaires overseeing their port operations. the north coast side over looking the lake was littered with mansions and white lawn furniture. we could see them from the light house. back to the car and headed to the venue. but we still had some time to kill. we parked near the coffee house i think its name was beaners. there was a bierhaus just across the corner. we stopped in for some hefty pints. right away we got asked if we had just pulled into port. damn i must've looked hagard. slamming down those 36 oz. beers took a little out of me. back to beaners for some coffee and possibly another beer before i got going. during the sound check the people filed in. most of them for the local opener catering to need of an audience for the traveling musician. i forget their names but their were most

helpful making it feel like home. afterwards were approached by two young ladies asking about the road trip we had begun. we fast made friends with Liz O'Brien and Ky, her best of friends. to paraphrase the moment, we were invited back to her house for some drinks. first though we had to get some more beer. as we got the car packed we were instructed to follow. we got on a freeway and fast approaching was wisconsin. we didn't know at the time. it turns out, we found out later at liz's house, that duluth has some laws in place to curb the drinking culture so prevalent, no doubt some age old ruins left over from the prohibition years. also they must have felt morally higher in class to their cheese head counter parts across the river. i don't blame

them, it seems logical to me. picking up some beer and those little bottles of whiskey we

headed back up that same mountain we had earlier, but this time we went up the lake side where we past the mansions. back round the back side of the mountain we went through some forest and stopped at ky's house to pick up some more supplies. then we kept driving and quickly the girls in the other car were stepping on the brakes in successive blinking and waved for us to usher towards them. "you're lights are off!" liz mentioned with a hint of sarcasm.

"oh." and they sped off with us chasing wildly after them, a gas station, a sharp left turn and several winding ones later we parked in a gravel drive with the strange figure of a person hanging off to the right. we pushed through a few bags, grabbed the essentials and moved in for the evening. "what was that thing out there?" liz made no mention of it. we stayed up late into

the night drinking, playing music, cards, telling stories and laughing. hit the floor in the old sleeping bag. out. dream. maybe. wake. i think i hear singing, and the smell of food. maybe. after a few cups of coffee we got liz to talk with us, about her life, her dog, her music. during the festivities the night before ky pushed liz to play and sing for us. turns out she has a great voice and is very intuitive at songwriting. she played some of her songs and it was suggested we try a duet. not sure if it was her or i but i say we. it was a beautiful morning. we walked together down the road a little bit. a love kind of like a new used bike. after some more coffee, she suggested this bakery downtown we might like to visit and procure some goods. she had once worked there and had some friends working there. we would get a good deal if we just hint a name. we hopped in the car. and took one last look at liz, and that strange figure hanging from the clothes line. turns out it was intended as some joke liz and ky pulled off, they just haven't taken it down yet.