Day one of the tour: Winnipeg!

I look at the amount of gear I’m taking on the road and am appalled. True enough, I’ll be on the road for a month, but do I really need all this stuff? Two guitars, amp, sound system, mics, stands, cables, clothes, merch, etc. Four trips to the car.

As a child, I would listen to the teasing my mother endured for the amount of luggage she took on trips—suitcases awkwardly large and impossibly heavy. When I started traveling, my notions of independence and mobility demanded a different approach: pack light and nothing more than you can carry. So I’m a little disappointed at the sheer volume of gear that will go into this tour. Alas, it’s all for the sake of the show. I find spaces and spots for everything and organize the car so it’s my perfect, personal little niche for the month. Groovy. Time for a road trip.

I’ve got three days of driving out east before my shows begin and have brought along the perfect antidote for fatigue: books on tape. Just outside of Regina, I begin my first book the Rules of Engagement. The CD is a CBC production, so I’m hopeful about the story and performance. The story unfolds, successfully keeping me enthralled, until I begin to get a bit groggy. Just when my mind is beginning to wander, the CD player reveals an unfortunate tendency to skip, and I am jolted to my senses by the freaky repetition of one word: “die, die, die, die, die…”

The story continues. Fortunately, I’m not superstitious. Actually, that’s not true. I am superstitious. It’s just that I’m selectively superstitious and usually just pay attention to coincidences that predict my good fortune. The rest of it—well, I just don’t have time for.

By the end of the day, I am nearing Winnipeg and entering winter, which is at first unsettling and then oddly reassuring. The landscape is all covered in snow. I love winter at sunset, when the white covered world is subdued into blue shadows. I’m listening to the stereo, the whirring of traffic, the sound of wind rushing over my car. But already I can hear the sound of winter—the silence and stillness that you only get from a city muted and muffled by snow.

Finally, I’m entering Winnipeg. I’m trailing a pickup truck with a bumper sticker revealing vital statistics about the city’s population. Did you know that Manitoba is the slurpee drinking capital of the world? Yes, the WORLD! Slurp-toba, suggests the sticker.