Quitting Smoking, Getting Past A Bear Fear And Canada's Mouthwatering Gardens

I have one show left of the Canadian tour. On one of the satellite islands (Gabriola) that frame Vancouver Island off the South Coast of British Columbia, just West of Vancouver. BC is beautiful, there’s no denying it. It bursts with life, the pastures buzz and vibrate, the huge glacial rivers race and curl, teeming with fat salmon. The land is ancient and powerful. It’s easy to put things into perspective here. I am very, very small in the great scheme of things. A salve for the ego.

The islands are connected by an intricate ferry system, little worker bees carrying the honey around the hive. I am profoundly confused by this ‘system’ of ferry travel. Summer is the worst time, the locals tell me. Unless you book well in advance there’s no guarantee that you’ll get on the ferry you want to get on, and it’s common to wait two or three ferries (potentially hours) to get on at all, so I feel for the locals that use them as commuter vehicles. I’ve been told stories of missed flights and doctors appointments, among other things, due to ferry problems. And having to wait hours at the terminal in Vancouver, for example, to get home. Dude. I would go crazy. I have little patience as it is. A badly timed homeward trip down Punt Road reduces me to a twitching, steering wheel-gripping, swearing mess. I’m not sure I’d cope here…

He’s decorated the warehouse apartment as if it were some magnificently flamboyant, colourful Bowerbird’s nest.

Having SAID that (in the immortal inflection of Larry David), it’s a pretty pleasant way to get around. Almost surreally pretty, most of the time. I played a bunch of gigs on Vancouver Island and got to hang in Victoria, its largest city, for a few days with my new friend, musician Carolyn Mark. Carolyn lives above a shop in China Town in an ex gambling den with her housemate, a set and costume designer for the theatre who’s spent the last nine years collecting an incredible array of stuff. He’s decorated the warehouse apartment as if it were some magnificently flamboyant, colourful Bowerbird’s nest. It’s like living in an art installation. The apartment overlooks the main drag of China Town and I spent a lot of time sitting at the window, watching the wheeling and dealing going on below us. Every now and then a double decker bus loaded with tourists, cameras poised, would stop directly outside the window at eye level and we’d just stare at each other. Life imitating art, I guess.

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I played a show with local musician Tereza Tomek on Quadra Island and spent a couple of days eating good food and sleeping (recovering from ArtsWells festival, probably the best weekend of the tour), catching up with my friend Lyndell in Courtenay in the North East of the island. It was here that I further ‘conquered’ my Bear Fear by jogging in a national park dotted with signs warning hikers about bears and cougars. What the actual... The deeper I got into the forest the faster I ran. Turns out being scared shitless is good for your cardiovascular workouts!

Artwells

Beautiful Vancouver mountains

Cat, Idiot, Jane

When bands are on the road together they begin to function like one organism, the way they pack the van, the way they load in and out, sound check, refuel at servos...

Running has been a constant routine on this tour. I quit smoking a few months ago, and, excluding a couple of unceremonious wagon falls, it’s the first time I’ve been smoke-free since I was a teenager. Running is one of the only things that keeps me off them, to be honest. I run most mornings, schedule (and hangovers) allowing, to continually remind myself how much better I feel when I don’t smoke. It’s a fucking hard thing to do, quitting. That’s the honest truth. And I’m also realizing how much the cigarettes were a part of the rhythm of touring for me in the past. This, to a non smoker, probably sounds bizarre, but to us durry punchers the way that smokes punctuate the way you spend your time is the hardest part of the habit to unpick, way harder than the actual addiction to nicotine. So yeah, it’s difficult. But it’s by far the best thing I’ve done for my health. Ever, probably.

It’s funny, the small things that become routine on tour. I’ve discussed this a lot with fellow travelling musos, how comforting some of the bizarre Groundhog Day stuff can be, the things that can somehow transcend the constant movement and ever-changing day-to-day existence of touring. Coffee is a big part of my routine. Finding it every morning, perfecting how to order it to unsure the best possible chance of getting it as close to how I want to drink as possible it in the various places I tour. (I’ve always said that if I had to choose between coffee and wine for the rest of my life I would definitely choose wine but coffee would come a close second, THAT’S how much I love it.) Then there’s stuff like the continual repacking of the suitcase, the rituals that exist around how you order your ‘stuff’. How you slowly learn (I’m looking at me, here) to keep your hire car keys in one spot and put them back there directly after you’ve used them. How you perfect ‘idiot checks’ before you leave houses/hotels/tents (this one is still a work in progress for me... I REALLY try). And when bands are on the road together they begin to function like one organism, the way they pack the van, the way they load in and out, sound check, refuel at servos, deal with check ins at airports. Everyone has their routine within the routine. The honey and the hive.

In a car on a ferry

Jane and Cat in Quesnel, BC

I was lucky enough to play a week of shows, including ArtsWells festival, with a kick-arse rhythm section, Cat Leahy on drums and Aurora Jane on bass, two very talented Aussies who are also two of my best mates who happened to be in Canada at the same time. That was a pretty awesome convergence of events. We cruised around BC in our Dodge being dodgy and playing some great shows. I missed them as soon as that part of the tour was over. But I know we’ll do that again, most likely in Canada next year and, jeez, it lit a fire under me to get back and tour with my Aussie band for a month. I’ve missed that synergy so much. Thanks, Kitten and Janey.

So I leave Canada in a few days. Back to Australia to tour and launch the new album with my band, play some festivals and then head back to North America in December. I’ve enjoyed this part of the Canadian run a lot. I feel good in BC. Maybe it’s because I tend to have a lot of fun here, playing little festivals full of delightful people in the mountains. And eating straight from lovingly tended vegetable gardens disproportionately often. Seriously, the gardens I’ve seen and eaten from... Fresh food bursting out of the rich, fertile soil, full of mouthwatering goodness. I assume because the weather is so prohibitive for half of the year, Canadians really enjoy their outside time. They tend gardens, go hiking and camping, BBQ, spread out in the sunshine in the many beautiful city parks... That kind of reverence for the outdoors and the sheer joy it brings is infectious. It makes me want to go camping (and run in bear-infested forests) and it allows me to appreciate how good we have it (yes, even in Melbourne, thanks The Rest Of Australia) to be able to be outside year round without fear of exposure from sub-zero temperatures. There’s something delicious about the country in BC. I want to devour and fill up on it, it’s so full of life. I’ll miss it until I come back here in a few months.

The next chapter beckons. Now where the fuck are my car keys?

Last swim of tour, near Vancouver