Shelter Me
Deep in the hills of Northumberland County, there is a tradition that
has taken place since 2004 called the Shelter Valley Folk Festival.
This was my first year even attending - let alone volunteering.
I was a Performer Services lead with a very funny man named Cliff
Bell-Smith. Cliff's favourite words are ones that I can't mention on
this website. Working with Cliff was invigorating - he worked hard
and was on the ball when he needed to be but he could also take a
joke (like when I told him someone took a dump backstage on the
gear - I thought he was gonna bust a kidney laughing). Cliff
would fart constantly while talking to people (as they moved out
of earshot) and aim the farts at me. I spent a good chunk of the
weekend trying to make him laugh or laughing myself.
Favourite Cliff quotes from the weekend:
"If they don't start to get some damn meat into the volunteer food,
I'm gonna throw a raccoon into the fuckin' pot of chili"
"Please don't say the word 'alcove' - that's as a bad as saying 'c*nt'"
(in the direction of a tie-dye-robed, sorcerer hat wearing, crooked
cane walking man who played the flute for several hours and then
shook his cane at the sky in anger) "Did you see that clown wizard
guy? What a fucking moron"
I also made some new friends (who just happened to be performers) -
JP Hoe and his backup singers Hayley and Kendra (who also happen
to be Fred Penner's daughters). Our humour
was similar from the get-go and within five minutes of knowing
each other, JP was telling me to come by his tent and have some
Jack Daniels from his family size bottle.
I feel much like Frodo at the end of Lord Of The Rings - 'Stretched
thin - like not enough butter scraped over too much bread.' My
shoulders and back are pretty sore from all of the gear-carting,
wagon-pulling, instrument lifting and tent assembling &
disassembling. I could sleep for 24 hours.
Wind and rain.
Sore bones.
Many walks and jogs up and down the massive hilly terrain.
Dehydration headache.
Wet socks that never dry.
Campfire stink in my hair and beard.
This shower feels like heaven.
Fred Eaglesmith tremolo.
The stars came out in full bloom during LAL.
Vegetarian food with little flavour.
Way too much bread.
A burger that tasted like God's candy.
Laughing way too much with Hales, Japes and Kendubs.
Taylor getting pulled up to dance by Ariana Gillis.
Lamplady yelling at others to share by the campfire.
Hope sprung for 72 hours.
Double rainbows after storms.
Torrential downpour.
Sunshine.
Torrential downpour.
Sunshine.
A bottle of Jameson getting passed around.
Aengus' last year & moving speech.
Sheesham talking with me about Dylan and Petty.
Lotus with a wrecked back forcing out the joy.
Crowded backstage area.
Tamarack.
Taylor guitars.
Cover the monitors in garbage bags.
Gospel singing with Ken Whiteley.
Whiskey and wine.
Tents getting rocked by wind in the night.
Cold sleep with bundles of blankets.
Dry socks are the key to the universe.
'Matt to Cliff, what's your 20?'
Lying flat in a real bed for the first time in 72 hrs.
Leaving the circus.
It's a new fall. I'm a new man - made new by experience, work and
joy. I'm going to be doing a lot more recording of music and writing/
documenting this year. I may go broke in the process. Watch out.
