Almost there. A swingin’day. It’s always this way on the road, you really hit your stride and boom, it’s on to the next. We must’ve played eight hours today, in the most varied settings, like nothing, too bad they don’t have an Olympic sport for this.

We woke up in the woods and a fog had settled in, the wisps hung to the trees and sculpture. All sounds were muted by the heaviness of the air. There were roosters crowing, Gabe was playing long tones on Buddy Jones’ bass. (Buddy was like a father to me, a Carmel Valley resident who introduced me to the joys of living here, a man who played with Bird and so many others, and now I have a precious piece of his history with me. He’d be so happy to know his bass was out on the road like this for the cause we are supporting, ensuring this music is properly passed on to the next generation)

I woke to Noah’s shoes and jacket strewn about, was afraid that a bear had found him, and was relieved to find him sipping tea and readying himself for a shower..whew! It turns out he was eluding an angry yellow jacket

We played at a thrift store in Ft. Bragg, run by a group that is the major—and in some cases sole—sponsor of disabled people’s outreach efforts out here. This area is not your run of the mill place, it’s hours from a major metropolitan area and most everyone does their part to keep everything on track. It also is a better spot for street playing, as most of the people are not over-stimulated by media and mass population, they are appreciative and supportive and we are extremely grateful for our efforts and abilities.

The thrift store had a lot of cool stuff, but I was afraid to put my guitar down, thinking it would be quickly picked up by a wily bargain hunter. In fact, Patty (who runs the store) once set a sweater down and lost track of it, found it later in a rack and bought it without realizing it was already hers…true story, she swears.

After that they stoked us to a great pizza meal and we went back to Mendocino, a lovely little West Coast Cape Cod looking place, lots of tourists and plenty of cool locals. We spent the afternoon playing on the street in front of and inside various establishments, and ultimately at a great music store that also runs a music camp called Lark in the Morning, (see podcast). We regrouped after a windswept three or four hours and headed north to a hit at La Playa (or so we hoped). It is run by Marta, and once we played Sabor A Mi we were in. We played for diners and got a lovely dinner…swingin! Then the Mendo swing dance contingent found us there and we spent the rest of the evening hanging and playing for them, great party. Amazing how fast the grapevine moves in these places.

Now we’re settled back in, looking for an early departure (that’ll be a first) for the end of Hwy 1 and the finish line for our trek. It was quite a journey and I have a new appreciation for the undertaking, music and my fellow inhabitants of the planet. I’ll wrap it all up tomorrow, as I’m whipped right now. The rest are either sawing logs or checking their eyelids for leaks. At least I’ll get a clear shot at the bathroom. I have the highest esteem for my fellow Cow Boppers, I know I have been demanding, often irascible and single-minded…had to, someone had to keep the train on the tracks. Their patience, tolerance and humor has made this work so well. Good goin guys, I noticed.

Now, to the great North, or at least Leggett…adios.

pics to follow when i get a quicker connection, come back and visit