A messy few days. Portland’s party meant next day was pretty nondescript. Think we got ourselves sorted at an RV park. That might have been the last shower I can remember. We drove a lot as usual.
Before the gig Mule, Dan Gray and Chris went out on a troll hunt, and had fun asking locals where the troll was located, the best answer they got was – ‘sure, the Troll’s up on ‘Troll Avenue’ 2 blocks over’. Funny stuff.
The Seattle gig was great. Dirk from Rusted Root joined us on the banjo for Forty Pound Wedding. The crowd seemed really up for it – and although the flagon was not allowed to be passed around I managed to decant contents and share it with the audience after the gig so everyone was VERY MERRY. Us Skinnies proceeded to have another party.
I wake up fully clothed next morning. We appear to be on the move. I am informed that I’m banned from dancing on stage with Rusted Root. Whoops. Must be a good girl from now on! Think I disrupted their last song by kissing Preach Freedom (the drummer), Colter and Patrick. A little nervous to see them again but sure it’ll be ok…
So, then we’re on the move to Boise for our own independent gig. Branching away from Rusted Root we feel a little strange. We find ourselves at quite a cool bar – have a great sound check and then head off to eat. We’re so hungry and dazed we can’t make decisions. We find ourselves eating wraps in an English Pub hmmm. Back for the gig – we’re missing the crowd RR pull in but everyone there enjoys it and we manage to sell a few vests and CDs.
We get chatting with a few people, Max talks to someone on probation who’s brother is in jail, I talk to some guy who shows me a picture of himself with a massive dead elk he’s tagged. Dan Gray learns about a local game called ‘whistle pigs’ where you shoot a whistle pig, then because they’re cannibals they all start to come out and eat their dead kins. One guy said he managed to shoot 7 whistle pigs in this fashion. You then get a dollar for each tail you hand in because they’re considered rodents. We go to bed feeling enlightened in our Rusted Root T-shirts after one too many African Amber beers.
Mileage – we’ve lost track of how many mikes we’ve been doing but its a lot and the metre now reads 26690