Niagara Falls, Canada

Monday, July 6, 2009

Monday morning coming down. . . The festival's over. We probably would have lingered awhile longer at the campground but Nicky had to be picked up and we had reservations that night in Tremen State Park in Ithaca, New York. Clearly there was work to be done.

The ride south was not without incident. We got lost in and around Toronto and witnessed a fiery wreck on the Interstate. Not sure how it happened but it looked bad. Although the accident occurred on the northbound side, traffic on the southbound side was backed up for miles. What is it about humans that we are so drawn to the misfortunes of others? I took my time passing the wreck, as well. The entire car was engulfed in flames.

Before crossing into the USA, we stopped on the Canadian side of Niagara Falls to have a look-see. Most everyone has seen these falls on television but the little screen does not do them justice. They are so much more impressive in person. The breadth and scope of their power just cannot be conveyed on a screen. Even though the town on the Canadian side has been turned into a Las Vegas style tourist trap, I'd still like go back some day and spend more time in the area. For now, Carol hopped out of the van to snap these photos.

I was a little apprehensive driving across the International Bridge and lining up to go through customs. I thought there might be some interest to see inside my trailer, but fortunately we were waved through within a few minutes.

Vince and Christie, although they left the Bass Lake campground around the same time we did, had arrived at Tremen State Park in five hours rather than the ten it took Carol and I. So late were we that Vince had alerted the park ranger to look for us outside the park and escort us to our campsite after dark. Naturally, Christie being the gourmet chef that she is had a splendid hot meal waiting for us. The next morning we awoke to find ourselves the sole occupants of an absolutely beautiful picture perfect meadow.

Mariposa - Day 3

Sunday, July 5, 2009
We finally got to the festival earlier in the afternoon, rather than just before the main acts opened at 5pm on the Main Stage. We were rewarded immediately for our efforts by catching Luke Doucet in the beer tent. We wiggled into second row seats and just had a ball. There's nothing like being up front to get a more personalized experience. It just makes all the difference. Turning to Carol, I saw the same expression on her face indicating something to the effect, “why didn't we do this sooner?”.

I kind of resisted going into the beer tent because I assumed it was going to be more about drinking rather than music. This proved to be an unworthy conclusion because the next act, April Verch, was incredible. She played old tyme Virginian reels mixed in with newer material on her fiddle and tapped danced while playing, to boot. With just a stand up bass man and acoustic guitarist she brought the house down. It was an epiphany.

By the time we met up with Vince and Christie it was time to head over to the Main Stage. The last three acts were extraordinary. The first was April Verch. We were hoping to see an even greater performance that the one we had seen under the tent but that, I suppose, could not be topped. She was excellent, but unable to eclipse her earlier, hand clapping, foot stomping musical romp. She was followed by Valdy. He is some kind of Canadian legend something akin to a cross between Pete Seeger and Gordon Lightfoot. I liked his acoustic set, his banter and musical stories. I would even consider buying one of his cd's if I found one in a second hand store. He is one of those artists that appears to have actually lived the life and I applaud him for that.

The Festival's headliner and closing act was Buffy Saint-Marie. Man, has she changed over the years. She's got to be in her late 60's and is a dynamo. With a big band behind her and several Indian women singing back up vocals, she was on fire. I'm not too keen on the Indian rights material, songs lamenting the poor treatment of native Americans (they call themselves The First Nation People in Canada) but “Universal Soldier” and some of her other hits were terrific. Carol liked all her native whooping, finding it very intense and powerful.

She is coming from a good place and means well enough, and I'm sure I would feel likewise if I'd been born a native American, but I wasn't. I'm a descendant of the invaders, the conquering people. I just don't have the same sentiments as the original people who were essentially invaders themselves. In fact, I think the Canadians made a mistake in allowing the Indians to call themselves The First Nation. That sort of sets up a precedent that inverts the actual social order. I don't think Indians should be persecuted, nor should they be placed on a pedestal and revered for their affinity with mother nature. All their talk about remembering former abuses should be remembered and regretted, but once they get on to having the land returned to them is where I draw the line. Native Americans need to get over the fact that they were invaded and conquered. For better or for worse, it happened. Their desire to turn back the clock is not going to change a thing. In fact, I think they should be satisfied with the outcome. Throughout history conquered peoples were either enslaved or exterminated. Moving the Indians onto reservations though surely not a pleasant experience must be considered better than what the ancient Romans or Mongols did in the wake of their expansion. Anyway, Buffy ended the night with a great song to help us realize that we are all a part of the living whole. Amen to that.

Overall, I have to say the Canadians are a tame lot. Once the encore ended, the stage manager told everyone to pick up any trash nearby and go home. They needed to be out of the park before the 11pm curfew. Not so much as a whimper from the crowd. We all went back to camp, exhilarated and exhausted.

Mariposa - Day 2

Saturday July 4, 2009

We started on this trip vowing to stay in shape, hike, bike and jog daily. Unfortunately, the best intentions are more easily said than performed. This morning was our first jog. Afterward, to celebrate this milestone, we went to breakfast with V&C and I consumed a large platter of pancakes. Carol had something equally calorically challenging.

Vince and Christie went straight to the festival and tried to encourage us also to get there earlier, but we returned to the campsite to digest, and didn't get to the festival until later in the afternoon. Part of the problem is the Casita. It is very comfortable and easy to hang out in. Combine that with great books, an indolent nature, a procrastinators heart as well as a contemplative desire to ponder the vagaries of the universe, well that explains everything.

Meanwhile, when we got to the festival the sun had made an appearance, lifting everyones spirits. Vince and Christie had our lawn chairs at the ready. Once again, we confined ourselves to the Main Stage, only venturing forth to get food or look over the craft vendors wares. The musical line-up was mostly unknown to us, with the exception of The Proclaimers, the identical twins with the #1 hit “Walk 500 Miles”. That aside, we looked forward to discovering new talent and expanding our musical horizons. The group “Le Vent Du Nord” (The North Wind) was obviously French, and were energetic and well received. Steven Page, formerly the lead singer/songwriter for the Barenaked Ladies, was laconic but entertaining. I think he was still trying to figure out what direction to take next. He seemed to be less than thrilled about having been a pop star and was now contemplating the vagaries of life.

Daniel Lanois was the closing act (pictured here). He had a great band, kind of on the loud side for my taste but Carol, who is much more knowledgeable about these things, thought he was fantastic. Therefore, I will defer to her wisdom. He was fantastic. She said, “Finally someone who rocks!”.

Mariposa Folk Festival - Day 1

Friday, July 3, 2009
We started the day with an unfortunate task: boarding Nicky. Since pets are not allowed at the festival, Carol found the nearby Royal Pet Hotel to house the Nickster while we enjoyed the music. It's never easy to put the dog up for even a few days, as our little Pomeranian has made herself an integral member of the pack. However, knowing she would be in good hands made the process easier.
Finally, some music. Although there were only five-ten thousand people attending at any given time, there were lots of bands, workshops and mini stages to fill ones entire day. Not being familiar with many of the names of the various performers, as they were all Canadian, we stayed pretty close to the Main Stage to see and listen to the featured acts. Vince and Christie got to the festival several hours before Carol and I arrived and they had our lawn chairs placed in a great spot not too far from the main stage.

Having attended the Mariposa several times previously, Vince and Christie were old vets here and knew to arrive much earlier and catch the acts playing in the smaller venues which were more intimate and nearly interactive. Carol and I would have to wait until Sunday to experience that for ourselves. Meanwhile, the groups we did see on the Main Stage were very good. The Skydiggers were excellent. Apparently they are a well known and respected band that has several successful albums. Basia Bulat came on at sundown and was very impressive. She might very well turn out to be the next Joni Mitchell. With startling good looks, great musicianship and lyrics, she has the complete package. It will be interesting to follow her career and see if she emerges from the provincial to the international stage. The closing act, Luke Doucet, was another great live performer. Great guitarist with a sort of rockabilly look and feel, he also could find fame and fortune south of this border.

Back at the campground that night, we sat around and reflected on the days events. One of my first impressions was that there was little traditional folk music on display. So far, everyone we heard and watched played with a full “plugged in” band rather than anything like an acoustic set. Once Dylan went electric at Newport, I suppose the folk scene was changed forever.

Orillia, Ontario

Thursday, July 2, 2009 Orillia
Orillia is a picturesque little town in Ontario, nestled between two lakes. We spent part of the morning strolling down its main street checking out the stores and natives. Carol, world class shopper that she is, managed to find a shirt to buy while I searched for an espresso. Friendly people inhabiting a friendly town is always a delight. Later we drove over to the festival site. Vince introduced us to more of the organizers while we strolled over the site. Certainly one of the most impressive facilities, great looking main stage, park-like setting situated on a penninsula jutting out into one of the lakes.
That evening we all had a fabulous dinner at Jerry's moms house. Met some more festival organizers and watched a great Leonard Cohen video of a recent concert in London.

French River, Ontario Canada

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

Woke up in the parking lot of the French River provincial park in Ontario. We walked up to the visitors center and took a look at the exhibition artifacts. Carol went in while I stayed outside with Nicky. Most the contents had to do with early missionaries, trappers, river life, and Indians. There was, however, an interesting trail down to the rapids. After a short hike, about a mile we found ourselves in front of a gorgous set of wild rapids. The layout of the French River is such that it has never been dammed so the wildness of the scene is intact. The only way to pass the rapids was to portage. Although the trail is being reclaimed by nature, parts of the way are still evident.
On the return leg, we noticed a narrow suspension bridge spanning the gorge below the visitor center. Taking that trail we came to the worlds longest and most expensive privately built snowmobile bridge. Yeah that's right! Seems the Canadians are most passionate about their snowmobiles and cringe at the thought of having their route shortened. The solution, of course, was to build this very attractive bridge to link their trail. In summer it is used as a foot bridge for tourists to gawk at the hardy folk who are either canoeing, kayacking or running the rapids. The donation box at the foot of the bridge was, I thought, a little tacky.

So it goes. We hopped back into the van and motored on to Bass Lake, just outside of Orillia, and our long awaited reunion with Vince and to meet Christie. Vince and I go way back. We met in Heidelberg, Germany in the spring of 1972, but I'd never met Christie. She and Vince have been together for the last seven years but due to a variety of factors, we were perfect strangers. Vince is one of those rare friends that regardless of the span of time between our last visit, we immediately fall back into our old rhythms and banter as if we had last parted hours ago rather than years. So it came as no surprise that both Carol and I soon felt the same way about Christie. She welcomed us with hearty hugs and a splendid hot meal. Vince had made the campground reservations weeks in advance so we had adjacent spots. Soon we were joined by Jerry and Sandy, two of the festivals' primary organizers. The wine flowed and the laughter rang out through the night. It was great to finally reach this destination, and to be among friends and catch up on each other's lives.

Entered Canada

Tuesday, June 30, 2009


Rolling into the Falls of Saint Mary's I couldn't help but thinking about the early settlers and trappers who first explored this part of the country. The flat land probably appealed to farmers while the woodlands were undoubtedly teeming with marketable wildlife. It must have been exhilerating to travel through vast tracts of virgin territory. Anyway, the city of Sault Ste Marie now exits on both sides of the rapids that once prevented ships from passing between Lake Superior and the lower Great Lakes. Now there are locks that permit such travel.
After stocking up on supplies and gas, we headed for the Canadian side of the city. This photo shows the view as we crossed over a canal that connects Lake Huron to Lake Superior, and separates the US from Canada. Crossing a long bridge we soon found ourselves in line to go through customs. After a short wait it was our turn. The custom agent who greeted us asked the usual questions then waved us through. The trick now was to find the road that would take us to Orillia and the Mariposa music festival. This, however, proved to be no easy task. The first obstacle was that the Canadian Sault Ste Marie is much larger than its American namesake, and secondly, the Canadians have an altogether different approach to alerting the motoring public as to the location and directions to the major arteries. After an hours worth of wandering aimlessly through false turns and detours, we finally found our bearings. Once we were out in the Canadian countryside all of of recent travails faded away and we were awash in the beauty of the ever changing landscape of rolling hills and tidy farms.
We drove another 200 miles before deciding to stop in a rest area just south of the French River.