(Jason Lent has forsaken the island paradise of Hawaii to follow us around for a few months. I have happily placed the tour diary in his capable hands. It should bring a new perspective to our ramblings.)
The ride out of Bethel at midnight tested the caravan with blowing snow, felled trees blocking the road to the hotel, and a menagerie of wildlife whose red eyes were thankfully on the shoulder and not the centerline of the winding roads. With time on our side, the morning eschewed the highways and included more meandering roads that never let the river out of sight as we climbed into Bellows Falls, VT.
A few notes on the village where the stately opera house stood. The local florist was not only open past operating hours (where Bob bought the last 12 yellow roses in southern Vermont); they sold beer and wine in the same cooler as roses. Once seated in the venue, the usher asked a guest, is that your spliff on the ground? When he offered it to her, she insisted on asking around so it could be returned to its rightful owner. In the end, it was finders, keepers. Needless to say, this was a fine town to spend an evening with Cowboy Junkies.
Maybe it was the vibe of the town, maybe it was just the upcoming day off greeting everyone after the encore, but tonight’s show took flight early and didn’t come down until the third song of the encore when the last rush of cymbals walked off into the evening. The debut of “My Fall” and the resurrection of the understated “River Waltz” were just some of the highlights on a night when the band was connecting on every note. It was a good night to be a fan. From what I caught in the glances and smiles on stage, it was an even better night to be on stage.