There's Coffee At The Summit

The alarm went off at ten-to-5 a.m. I got up and put my running clothes on in the dark. I hate getting up early to run especially during the last few months when it's been cold. There's nothing like stepping out the door into 19 degree air knowing you have 10 miles ahead of you. Yesterday morning wasn't that cold, thank goodness, but it was still early.

The thing that got me going this time was knowing that I had already committed and people might be waiting for me. I had been talking to my buddy Chad Randolph for weeks about heading up to Davidson to run with his group. Davidson is a small town about 25 miles north of Charlotte and one of the few places in NC that reminded me of being on the west coast again.

So, of course, I was running behind and had to speed to get up there. I didn't want to drive all the way just to get there and see the running group take off without me. I drove in the dark with no traffic. Man, Davidson is out there a ways.

I pulled up to the CVS right in downtown and saw the familiar sight of runners warming up. And there was Chad, tall as a tree, wearing shorts! Dang. I pulled up just in time to get introduced to everyone--Jeff, Todd, Jim; and then Chad hands me a headlamp. A headlamp? Where the heck were we going? I tried to be cool as I adjusted the strap like I'd worn headlamps to run all the time, but honestly I've never worn a headlamp. Back in California I almost never ran in the dark. I was a musician, so I usually got out the door in the late morning and didn't really get to running until the early afternoon.

Chad showed me how to switch the thing on and soon we were headed up the street. We cut into a greenway section, which I would have liked to see in the daylight. You could see the outline of the trees like giant matchsticks against the dark purple dawn. The guys mentioned that some kids had shoved a big log across the greenway path so that if you weren't watching carefully you could trip over it and wind up face down in the middle of the path. They joked about the delinquent youth of Davidson.

I've come to realize as I get older that everyone has their "thing". Which means that everyone has an interest that they geek out on. Some people are into Star Trek, some are into classic cars, some folks are music snobs (me), and some people are runners. We geek out on running. As we ran along the dark greenway path we talked about everything running.

I hung back with Jeff and Chad most of the time, both of whom run ultra-marathons (distances longer than 26.2 miles). Jeff is probably in his late 40's*and he and Chad talked about their ultra races. I think Jeff said that he'd run about 150 ultras! I peppered Jeff with questions about the races and the ultra-marathon "community", about his times and training. This guy is insane!

Chad, 42 (I think), runs almost exclusively in Vibram Five Fingers and is the one who got me excited about them so, of course, we geeked out on that too. Todd was maybe in his early 40's, too and Jim was about my age. They stayed up toward the front and then cut off a little early.

Chad and Jeff and I crossed a road and headed up an incline near a field just as the sky began to glow at the horizon, mixing dark with light. Our breath in the cold trailed behind us like smoke coming out of a locomotive. We dropped back into downtown Davidson to complete six miles and cooled down to where we had started. Next stop--Summit Coffee house.

This is probably one of the best parts of the run. Strong coffee in a cool coffee house. Summit definitely made me feel like I was touring again, up in the Northwest, sampling all the amazing coffee joints. It's a small, narrow place with wood paneled walls and warm light and great coffee. I liked it because it was funky. It was no Starbucks or Caribou. It's the kind of place where none of the chairs really match and the guy working behind the counter has dread-locks.

From the street we could see Todd and Jim waiting for us. Our group sat around the table with our coffee (thanks Jeff. It's on me next time) and talked about the next run. I said that I would definitely come to run with the group again. Jim asked me if I lived in Davidson and Chad told him, "No, this guy drove all the way up from South Charlotte!"

"What?" said Jim. "You came all the way up from Charlotte for this run?"

That's right. I lived in San Diego county for the last 10 years, dealing with traffic, long commutes, time on the road for hours touring and so a 45 minute drive to Davidson with no traffic was a breeze. If I hadn't driven up there I wouldn't have had such a great run with a great group. I'll definitely do it again. Anyone want to join me? We can carpool.

*So, I had originally tried to guess Jeff's age and got it wrong. Big time. Sorry Jeff. Like I said, it was dark. Hope you'll let me keep running with y'all again.

Scandinavian Tour 2009: Sleep...I need sleep.

Sorry I haven't written in several days. It's been busy. I just got back this morning from playing a festival in Eutin, Germany yesterday. Had a gig tonight in Copenhagen, get up early to leave for a festival in Sweden in the morning. I'll try to write more when I have a free moment and my computer handy. Take care everyone.

Scandinavian Tour: 2009 Day 11

A few days have passed since my last post. It's been busy here and it's about to get busier. I'm back in Copenhagen now. This is probably my fourth trip to CPH. It's nice because I can find my way around the city pretty easily. I have a couple of favorite coffee shops, bakeries, cafes and this trip I've plotted out several running routes throughout the city. Yesterday I found a running shop similar to the one I work at in Charlotte and also talked to a runner at a running club here in Copenhagen.

Tonight, Nathan and I will be playing at Denmark's premier blues club called Mojo. It should be a good night because tomorrow is some kind of Danish holiday so people will be out and going crazy, from what I hear.

James Harman flew in from Belgium last night to join us here for some gigs in CPH and a couple of festivals in Germany and Sweden. Should be a good time. Always is when he's around.

Getting close to dinner time. I'll write more later.

Running in Norway

Haugesund Bridge Run on Constitution Day



Me running near Arnt Ove's house. This was my warm up everyday.

As my tour of Scandinavia approached I worried that I wouldn't have the time to fit running into my music schedule. I packed my running shoes anyway, sacrificing a few more clean shirts and another pair of dress shoes to do it. I'm glad I did.

The first week overseas has been spent in Norway. Fortunately we've been staying at one house that belongs to our host/manager Arnt Ove (Andy) so it's been easy to just put my running gear on and head out the door. Our shows don't start until 9pm usually so there's still enough time to squeeze a run in and take a short nap before the gig.

The weather has been perfect for running and so has the geography. There are paved bicycle/walking paths that will lead to almost anywhere you want to go. The day we arrived I set a goal for myself--to run from Arnt Ove's house, up and over this huge bridge and back again. The first few days were shorter runs and some speed and hill work and I had to take a day off because we were playing in another town so I didn't have time to run there.

I tried to run the "course" yesterday, but after Arnt Ove showed us the sights and cooked dinner when we got back, I really wasn't in the mood. But today, I had to put up or shut up. I had been talking about running that dang bridge all week, so when Nathan mentioned it today I knew I had to.

After attending this morning's Constitution Day parade in downtown Haugesund we came home and ate breakfast. I answered some emails and uploaded photos, allowing my food to digest then I put the gear on. I had been trying to think of a way that I could prove to Arnt Ove and Nathan that I actually made it across and that's when Arnt Ove suggested I bring a napkin back from the McDonald's which is just about 100 yards on the other side of the bridge. Perfect! Except that today being a national holiday, McDonald's was actually closed along with all the other stores around it. The 7-11 nearby was the only store open, but when I started to think about the route I thought it would be a waste to only bring back a napkin from 7-11. So I decided that I would take my camera. This was probably the only time I would ever bring a camera running. I put it in the little pouch and slung it around my shoulder and hit the road. I was glad I took my camera:

On the way to the bridge


This is the point where I had to decide if I still wanted to run it.


On the way up. The head wind was INSANE! I'm a little afraid of heights and the wind gusts felt like they were going to blow me over the railing.

View from the highest point on the bridge.


McDonald's! Just about 100 yards on the other side of the bridge. Proof that I made it over.


View from the other side. Heading back over.


The view of the community coming back over the bridge.


Heading back to Arnt Ove's house.


Coming back into town.


This hill killed me. I know it doesn't look like much in the picture, but my quads sure felt it. This was within the last two miles of the run.

The route turned out to be about 10 miles round trip and took my about an hour and twenty minutes to complete. When I got back to the house Arnt Ove said, "You look so relaxed. I can't believe you ran over the bridge. You are INSANE."

Scandinavian Tour 2009: Day 8

Happy Constitution Day! May 17th is a national Norwegian holiday. It is the day Norway signed it's "Declaration of Independence" from Sweden. This morning Arnt Ove took us into Haugesund to watch a parade. On May 17th, Norwegian men, women and children dress in ornate and hand-crafted traditional costumes. This morning's parade featured many of the children of the city who marched with their school mates and teachers waving flags.

Scandinavian Tour 2009: Day 7

Yesterday (Sat.) our host, Arnt Ove, took us out sightseeing around Karmoy (that's actually spelled with the "O" that has a slash through it). We first visited a nearby church that was built around the year 1250. During the World War II people could go to the church to hear radio broadcasts and news. The building still shows pocked marked signs of German airplane bullets in it's ancient stone walls. Below the church is a Viking museum that houses artifacts discovered there and elsewhere around the island. Further on down and through a little forest lies a Viking village that was recreated to look just like it might have during the time of the Vikings.

St. Olav's Church


Bullets marks from Nazi airplanes


This is called the "Virgin Mary's Needle." It's a giant, obelisk-shaped stone that was put there when the church was built. The stone leans toward the church and it is said that when it finally touches the wall that will be the day of Armageddon. There are only a few inches to go.


Viking village

Just past the village and at the water's edge, you can see a tiny strip of land almost like a sand bar, out in the middle of an inlet. It is said that a scorcerer and his men were coming to the area to try and defeat the king, Olav. The sorcerer wanted to make such a powerful level of fog and darkness so that they would be able to catch Olav by surprise, but instead made it too dark and enveloped themselves...you can read more by clicking on the photos below:

Later Arnt Ove took us on a drive around the island eventually to a tiny community called Skudesneshavn. At first we thought he was saying, "Scooter's Nest." The community is bound by strict building codes that don't allow for progressive building. All the structures have to remain in the old-fashioned way. The drive around the island was beautiful and reminiscent of Northern California coastlines. Small farms and hugged the hillsides and quaint homes stood along the rocky cliffs.

Skudesneshavn

Arnt Ove lead us to what used to be an old copper mine. It is now a water filled pit adjacent to a pretty little park and mine museum. The mine is significant because it supplied the copper that was used to make what eventually became a fairly famous American statue....See photo below:

The gig last night was a quiet one. Everyone was at home getting their traditional Norwegian costumes ready for Constitution Day, a national Norwegian holiday, basically their Fourth of July.

Scandinavian Tour: Day 6

Since leaving California and moving to North Carolina I've settled rather nicely into a non-musician lifestyle. I went from playing gigs almost every night to not playing at all the last 6 months. I started going to bed around 10:30pm and getting up to take my wife to work at 6:30 am. On Sundays I go to church and afterward mow the lawn. As a musician I had been starting my work "day" anywhere between 8 and 9:30 pm and not getting home sometimes until 2 am. Now that I'm here in Scandinavia I've had to go back to the old hours. Unfortunately, even though I don't get sleep until late I still get up early.

Last night was no exception. After leaving Bryne, Norway in the morning we drove another 30 minutes to the city of Stavanger where we played an upstairs pub called Ovenpaa. The crowd wasn't as enthusiastic as the night before, but we still had a great time. And even though Nathan and I haven't played together in quite sometime our sound is coming back together as if we just picked up where we left off last November.

Ferry Ride to Stavanger

After sound check we went back to the small apartment the club owner had loaned us for the evening to take quick naps and get ready for the show. We walked back to Ovenpaa, had some dinner and walked around town and harbor. I guess Stavanger is a fairly wealthy town, getting most of it's money from the oil industry. We didn't see any of that money when we were checking out our CD sales. We only sold two CD's and those went to two other musicians--horn players who had just recently moved to Norway from the UK. Neil, the trombone player, sat in with us on a couple of tunes while I accompanied on jazz horn (kazoo) and jug.

Ovenpaa

The streets in Stavanger were filled with teenagers who are about to "graduate" from Norway's equivalent of high school. Hundreds of the students come out on the town wearing red overalls with the straps hanging down. Each kid adds their own patches and designs to the pants, sometimes rolling up one pant leg, or other times both. The legal drinking age in Norway is 18, so each disco is bursting with the graduates all wearing their red, school overalls.

Graduates

Arnt Ove (Andy) our host and "manager" informed us that we were going to have to catch the late ferry back over to Haugesund and that we needed to be ready to go by 11:30am the next day for an appearance on a weekend morning television show. That would mean we would be done with the gig at 1:30am, but only be able to catch the 3am ferry which would put in Haugesund and in bed around 5:30am. Fortunately, when we arrived at the ferry terminal we found that their was an earlier ferry that left at 2:30am. We crossed the channel in the dark with just a handful of other people and watched the sun slowly come up as we hit the sack around 4am I think.

11am came quickly this morning. I hung another blanket over the window before I fell asleep so the room would be relatively darker. The sun never really completely goes down here because we're so far north. It seems even in the middle of the night there is still a slight glow on the horizon.

Andy had only gotten about an hour and half of sleep. He still had to be at his regular job this morning. He took his lunch break and was waiting to take us to the TV station right on time. The station is small with the transmission only reaching the surrounding communities. We set up our instruments on their sound stage with the host, named Karen, while the production guy clipped microphones on our shirts for the interviews.

Norwegian local T.V. show

In Norwegian, Karen spoke into one of the cameras letting the audience know what kind of music we played and where we performing in town, I think. And then she turned to us and asked us a couple of questions about ourselves. Because it's a weekend show, the station found that no one wanted to get early and produce the show early on Saturday and so they record everything for the weekend during the week and run it on the weekend. So after our "interview" we stopped, made a couple of adjustments and then resumed recording. We played one song while the credits rolled, I guess.

Andy drove us back to his house, Nathan took a nap and I went for a run into town. I'm about to fix a sandwich soon and then catch up on some sleep myself. Tonight we're playing our first show of three at The Irish Viking here in Haugesund. This weekend is a Norwegian holiday--Constitution Day and so I hear that it will be pretty crazy downtown tonight and tomorrow.

More photographs available in the "photos" section at www.benhernandezmusic.com

Scandinavian Tour 2009: Day 5

Last night I played in a small country town called Bryne. The drive over here was beautiful, the road winding through the hills and countryside. Occasionally we drove through deep tunnels dug beneath water inlets from the North Sea that separate the different parts of Norway. We arrived at the venue, a place called Thime Station, and dinner was already waiting for us. The venue is a small, dark pub with heavy timber beams supporting the ceiling. People crowded in close to the little stage and around the bar. It was a great audience.

I was a bit nervous about playing because Nathan and I haven't played together in about 6 months, but once the first note was thrown out there it was like riding a bike. For me it was a bit like riding a rickety and rusty old bike, but a bicycle none the less. My voice wasn't as strong as I wanted it to be, but I haven't been singing the way I used to. I felt like an old prize fighter being pulled out of retirement for one more fight, trying to win back the championship belt.

I spent some time enjoying a local brewed, stout beer called Sorte Faar (Black Sheep) with some locals, one named Rolf. Afterward, we walked across the street to Erling Dagsland's apartment. He's a friend of Andy's and a blues fan and photographer who owns the top two floors of the building which used to be the living quarters for the proprietor of a grocery store that used to sit below. Nathan and I stayed up a little later with Erling and his friend "Oscar" watching film footage of Freddie King while Erling kept bringing out slices of bread topped with different types of cured meats and local cheeses.

This morning Andy was downstairs waiting to pick us up to take us over to his guitar player's house for a breakfast of eggs, thick bacon, sliced bell peppers, cucumbers, tomatoes and juice and coffee. We'll be leaving soon for a short drive over to Stavanger where we'll be playing tonight.

See more photographs in the "Photos" section at www.benhernandezmusic.com

Travelogue: Scandinavian Tour, Day 4

This morning I woke up, put my running shoes on and headed out the door. The air was crisp and the sky was clear. I ran about 7 or 8 miles toward town. I love running in a new place or in this case a new country. You're able to see so much more than if you had driven a car. I found a walking/bike path that stretched for miles, through tiny neighborhoods, along the harbor, and past wide open pastures.

I poured some coffee when I got back and fixed some eggs and fried up some of the potatoes from last night.

I think I might have left my iPod on the plane from Chicago to Copenhagen so the other half of the morning was spent calling a couple of airline service numbers with the hopes of tracking it down. All lost and found items get sent to the Copenhagen police (politi) office in the airport (lufthavn). After the shows here in Norway, I'll be back in Copenhagen on Monday and so with fingers crossed, I hope to find my iPod.

Andy, our host will be getting home from work early this afternoon so that he can drive us to our first show at Thime Station in Bryne, Norway. We stay the night in Bryne then drive to a show in Stavanger. We get back to Andy's house on the 15th for 3 shows in a row at a place called The Irish Viking.

Time to get packed.

Travelogue: Scandinavian Tour 2009

Sunday, May 10
Sunday evening my wife dropped me off at the Charlotte airport for my flight to Chicago. From Chicago I would then be flying over the Atlantic Ocean and ending up in Copenhagen, Denmark. The O'Hare airport in Chicago is one of the most confusing if you're trying to fly international. There are no signs that tell you where the international terminal is. My ticket read Terminal M15, so when I stepped off the plane from Charlotte and looked up at the signs all I saw was ABCD. I ended asking about 5 different people where it was. It turned out that I had to go up an elevator to the sky bridge, then over the bridge to a tram that would take me 5 stops to the IT. Well, I found it and boarded the plane.

The flight to Copenhagen was only 7h and 45m long! Now some of you might say that that's a long flight, but not when you're accustomed to overseas flights sometimes taking 10 or 14. I sat next to this free-spirited, long haired, bearded bicycle mechanic from Capitola, CA (Santa Cruz). As we were lifting off the ground I asked him if he'd ever been to Copenhagen before. From that point on he talked almost the entire flight (sorry Victor, but you did). I found out Victor's entire life story it seemed. He was actually on his way to Latvia to meet his girlfriend. I found out the history of Latvia, stories about his past adventures in Latvia, his inherited house in Capitola with his crazy friends living their with all their dogs, his vegetable garden, old relationships with girlfriends, current relationships, his music, massage therapy. There was a moment that I actually started to fall asleep during one of his stories. The great thing was that I actually slept for about 3 hours. I never do that. Usually I fall asleep for about a half hour and am awake the rest of the flight.

I woke up and Victor started in again until we landed in Copenhagen. Victor was funny and hope to see him again someday. He made the flight go by pretty fast.

Monday, May 11
I took a train from the CPH airport and then walked about 5 blocks to my friend Peder Nande's house. He wasn't there and I didn't have a cell phone and I didn't want walk another few blocks to the nearest payphone. I stepped into a deli next door owned by a Polish woman and asked to use the phone. She was more than happy to oblige. So to return the favor I bought some food there. The deli serves this snack that looks like a big appetizer. On a small piece of rye bread, they layer on shrimp, sliced eggs or fish with small slices of cucumbers or tomatoes all topped with Hollandaise sauce. I chose one that looked like it had a nice fillet of fish on it, but turned out that it was actually a slice of compacted fish eggs.

I spent the evening catching up with Peder and his wife Lene. I rearranged my suitcase for the trip to Norway, checked some email and fell asleep.

Tuesday, May 12
I jumped into a cab left for the airport around 5:30 am. the next morning. We have shows in Norway so I would be first, flying to Oslo and then to a town called Haugesund where I would be meeting up with my partner Nathan James and our Norwegian host Andy (his real names is Arnst Ove, but he says "Andy" is easier to say). I waited in the Copenhagen airport for about and hour and a half before leaving for Oslo--a 50 minute flight. I waited in the Oslo for about two and a half hours for the flight to Haugesund--a 35 minute flight. I waited in the Haugesund airport for Nathan and Andy another two and a half hours.

The flight to Haugesund, Norway from Oslo

Andy's house is a fairly large house nestled in the countryside about a half mile off the main road. It's surrounded on one side by pastures full of grazing sheep and on the other side by an inlet from the North Sea. We unpacked our suitcases and took a little walk while Andy cooked us this amazing dinner of local trout covered in pesto, small gold potatoes, cauliflower, salad all topped with herbs cut from his own little herb garden. We had a small shot of a Norwegian liquor to warm our insides up a little.

Dinner at Andy's house




The view from Andy's living room window

Then Andy told us that if we were feeling up to it, he had a friend that worked at the local performing arts theater in town. She could get us in free to see Bobby McFerrin in concert. Bobby McFerrin?!!! Hell yes!

I really didn't know what to expect. Of course, I really only knew that he did "Don't Worry, Be Happy", but didn't know much else. Let me just say that Bobby McFerrin is an amazing singer and vocalist. I was completely blown away by his performance. When we saw the stage we noticed that there was only one chair in the center. No band. He sat on the stage and made enough music with just his voice and taps on his chest and with his feet that it sounded like a whole orchestra and kept me entertained the entire time. He eventually invited up a choir from Haugesund to accompany him on a couple of songs and he invited the audience to participate a few others, but the rest was all him. That was a concert that I won't soon forget.

Bobby McFerrin

We all got home, fixed a little coffee and talked about the show. Later, we a little bit of aged Scotch from Andy's cabinet and finished the night out by watching a DVD of an old concert of Dr. Hook live on a television show in Germany back in the 70's. It was insane!

Crowders Mountain and Fish Camp

This is for all the folks new to the Charlotte area. As a Californian who grew up near the foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, one of the first things I try to do if I move to a new place is find the best hiking trails nearby. I lived in both Los Angeles and San Diego and the hiking wasn't much. I mean, it was better than nothing, but it was usually hot and dry and rocky with very few trees. I certainly missed the giant Sequoias, the back-country lakes and streams and wildlife. So, the other day I was introduced to Crowders Mountain State Park. The park is located just outside of Gastonia, NC; about 45 minutes drive from Charlotte.

I was pretty excited about having a state park practically in my backyard so, last Sunday, after church my wife and I ate a quick lunch, packed some snacks and fruit and headed down the Interstate toward the park. At the trail head, located next to the visitor's center, we glanced over the map, choosing the Crowders Trail to start with and then eventually switching to the Ridgetop Trail that winds across soft level ground giving way to steeper climbs leading to the top. The peak of the mountain is craggy with rock formations that jut upward like a saw blade offering views of the vast surrounding countryside. Unfortunately though, without leaves on the trees you also get views of the creeping "progress" of housing developments and warehouse structures scattered throughout. I did my best to ignore that part and also the amount of dogs people brought out onto the trail.

view from one of the peaks on Crowders Mountain

I love dogs, my parents have a dog, she's great, but I've always had a problem with hikers bringing their dogs hiking with them. In my opinion, it breaks the serenity and beauty of the place when you watch two leashed dogs approach each other on the trail as their owners do their best to reign them in, they sniff behinds (the dogs do), and then commence to snarling as the owners reprimand them.

We found ourselves on the trail following a couple who had a great big dog that I thought I heard them call "Horse" and it was almost comical watching them lift this poor dog up through the trail's rock formations. The man would try to lift the dog's front legs up to the next step as the woman, who was standing higher up on the rock tried to pull the dog up to her level. The man then tried lifting Horse's hind end as the his back paws clumsily scratched at the rock trying to get a firm hold. When that didn't work the man tried to set him up on the rocks by hoisting the dog up from it's middle. He kept squirming, his back legs jabbing out like a jack-rabbit, obviously not understanding what his owners were trying to do with him. When Horse finally did get to a spot where he could stand comfortably his back legs shook like crazy, probably terrified by the whole ordeal. I stood back and watched this canine lifting ceremony wondering why they hadn't just walked their dog in the city park that morning instead of subjecting him to Crowders Mountain and then further wondered why they didn't lead the poor beast down the lower path, one that circumvented the rocky part of this trail completely, but ended up at the same place.

lichen--Crowders Mountain

Anyway, I'm not trying to get off subject. I just don't understand it. Back to the beauty and splendor of the trail.

The thing that I do appreciate about North Carolina hiking is the extreme changes in scenery during the seasons. California's mountains may have giant trees and massive peaks, but they don't have the variety of changes in the foliage. In spring, North Carolina wilderness is bursting with energy and shaking off hibernation, in summer the thick trees display deep green leaves, in fall everything turns gold and orange and red; and in winter the forest becomes cold and gray. There is a melancholy feeling in the woods during the winter. The infrequent bird calls can cut through the stillness, echoing in this sparse landscape like a hammer striking an anvil. The trees are bare and their trunks come out of the dense leaf compost like concrete columns.

lower section of the Crowders Trail

We ate our apples and energy bars at the top and took a few pictures then hiked back down a trail stairway along the Backside Trail, eventually rejoining the Crowders Trail. By the time we reached the visitor's center we calculated that we had covered about 4 1/2 miles, not bad for a little afternoon hike.

My wife and I at the top of Crowders Mountain. A note to all my Carlsbad friends: If you look closely you'll see I'm sporting my Pollos Maria hat* (see footnote).

A company store building, built in 1890, found just outside of the Crowders Mountain State Park.

Hunger was now setting in. My wife, who has the metabolism of a hummingbird, was starving. Earlier, while driving through Gastonia we had spotted signs for a fish restaurant called "The Captain's Cap". It was a fish camp:

Now let me pause here and explain a few things to my west coast brethren about "fish camp". A few years ago my wife had tried, unsuccessfully, to explain what her people call "fish camps". I had NO idea what that was. She laid out in perfect detail the decor of fish camps, the type of food served at fish camps, the candy shelves next to the cash register, the fishing nets and trophy catches on the walls, the rustic wooden booth seats or tables aged to look like they had been gleaned from a torn down wharf. Sometimes there was a fisherman statue carved out of wood, painted and standing outside to greet customers. The only guess I could come up with was Long John Silver. She laughed. I tried Red Lobster. She shook her head. When I visited Memphis awhile back (before moving to North Carolina), I called her convinced I had finally understood what a fish camp was. I said, "Is it like Captain D's?" More laughter. I've come to realize now that fish camps are very, very rare in California and when Californians see one they sure don't call it a fish camp. Now that I think back--no longer a fish camp green-horn--I seem to recall eating at a restaurant that fit the above description on the coast of Oregon somewhere.

The Captain's Cap sign outside the restaurant

So the Captain's Cap billboards led us to smaller signs which directed us along winding back roads. "Make a left at the old church," one sign read. It seemed like we were out in the middle of nowhere with nothing around us except this old church and a vacant trailer park. But sure enough as we rounded a curve and came over a hill, there nestled in a little valley was The Captain's Cap.

It was a true fish camp. The menu featured several different combinations of fried fish and sides. I chose the catfish and flounder combo with onion rings. My wife went with her favorite, popcorn shrimp. We shared an order of hushpuppies between us and drank water to counteract the effects of the fried food. The staff was fast and very friendly and the fish was gooood. The average age of the patrons was probably about 65 and most were white-haired. One group was celebrating a birthday. The birthday boy who was probably about 70 received a giant, brightly colored birthday card and every time he or someone else opened the card, the card would "sing" out, "Cel-e-brate good times! C'mon!.....Celebrate good times!.........Celebrate good.......Celebrate good....."

fish camp

When we were done feeding like hungry sharks, we pulled ourselves up out of the booth and slowly moved toward the cashier. In true fish camp fashion the cash register sat right next to the candy shelves, with gum and candy bars for sale and tiny complimentary calendars reading "Captain's Cap'' with monthly pages you can tear off. My wife was in fish-camp-nostalgia heaven as we added a couple of peppermint patties to our bill.

We walked back to our car through a little maze of GM made vehicles and driving past the old church and the trailer park, in a heavy fried fish stupor, we got back out to the highway and headed home to Charlotte.

*Pollos Maria is a Mexican restaurant in Carlsbad, CA that specializes in serving char-broiled chicken. One day, while I was at Pollos Maria ordering food, I asked the cashier if they were selling the hats that the employees were wearing. He said yes, but that he thought there was only one left and it was for sale for $2. Two dollars? That's it? So I reached in my pocket pulled out the cash and handed him the money. He reached behind the counter and gave me the hat. The first thing I noticed about it was that it was slightly stained with grease. No big deal. I figured I would use the hat for hiking or working in the yard anyway. Then discovered that someone had written the name "Faustino Danger" under the bill. Still, no big deal. But when I walked away from the counter, I saw printed on the receipt for my order, the cashier's name-- Faustino.

Wagons East

Several months ago, my wife and I decided we would move back to her hometown: Charlotte, North Carolina. Upon hearing the news my mother said she wasn’t that fond of the idea but she supported us and my father asked why we were doing this during such a terrible economic time. My friends said get used to the heat and humidity. Someone else asked, “Don’t they get a lot of hurricanes?”

After spending Thanksgiving with my parents, my wife and I drove away and pointed our wagons east, letting go of California. I’ve never lived outside the Golden State and the thought of not seeing some of these places again made my stomach upset.

We were bound for a place I had visited only a few times. I would be buying a house and living near in-laws and making new friends. I was worried about finding work. My wife’s a nurse and had already been hired. I’m a musician with no college degree and not many skills other than singing and playing harmonica. I had been touring and working steadily and now all of that was going to be wiped away. My whole way of life was about to change.

I’ve been to the South many times and as a Californian I was fascinated and enamored by its culture—the music, the food, the rich green landscape. But really, the first thing I began noticing about Charlotte was that people I’d met here were never actually from Charlotte. It was rare, except for my in-laws, to find someone who was born and raised here. My next-door neighbor is from Wisconsin. The girl at our bank is from Vermont. The guy who installed our cable, from Connecticut. During my first Waffle House experience a few nights ago (they don’t exist in CA) one of the waitresses overheard me talking about where I was from. It turned out we were born in the same hospital in Hanford, CA! It gave me a comforting feeling knowing that I wasn’t the only one trying to adjust to saying “y’all” instead of “you guys.”

My wife and I stopped by the admissions department at Central Piedmont Community College to see about getting me signed up for classes so that I might be able to take that hand drawn diploma off the wall and get a real one. But I didn’t really know what I wanted to do and I haven’t been to school in about 10 years. Besides that, the out-of-state fees are frightening. So, instead, my wife was going to help me dust off my resume. I think it’s in an old trunk in the attic somewhere. The list of occupations and employers only goes about halfway down the page so I’m probably going to have to make something up. I've had no luck on Craig's List and the NASCAR Hall of Fame doesn't open until 2010.

I told my wife that when I do find a job, I would like to ride my bike to work. She said, “Honey no. You can’t do that, it’s dangerous. People don’t ride their bikes to work here.” I told her well, you’re just not used to riding a bike. So I tried to ride a bicycle down to the YMCA one day and had to pedal the entire way on the sidewalk or else be clipped by the side mirror of an SUV. Instead, I’ve been using my wife’s grandmother’s Chevy to get around trying to figure out if I’m on Queens Road or Queens Road West. Or is it Kings? Wait, I was just on Providence, but now it’s 3rd. Tyvola, Fairview, Sardis. Billy Graham, Woodlawn, Runnymede.

Now let me be clear, these are merely observations. These are not criticisms. I love the little brick house we moved into. I’m excited knowing that I can someday own a leaf blower. I love that eventually things will turn deep green again. I’m amazed by lighting bugs (also not in CA). I love that I can get sweet tea anytime, anywhere. People are nothing but friendly. I love seeing my wife happy about being near her family again; spending time with her siblings. Getting to take her nephews to see the singing mechanical bears at Founders Hall.

Several months back I spoke to a telephone operator who worked for our moving company. And after all the details were settled she said, “Oh, y’all are gonna love Charlotte. It’s cozy.”

That’s good enough for me.