I am sitting now at home, in my little flat in Australia as I recap about the last part of our amazing tour in America. When last we left off, we were just arriving in Montana after our 2nd leg in Canada and the Northwest of America. As I think about that in this moment, I am astounded by the things we did, people we met and the 176 hours of driving we did. I don’t even think I’m exaggerating.
When we arrived in Montana, we had a few days to fix our trailer and sleep after a very busy few weeks. But more than any of us, Mike, our lead singer, was triumphant to return to Montana unexpectedly. This is but for one reason.
Hunting.
Mike is an avid hunter and enjoys the cool, autumn bow season. The fact that he’d be in Montana for the beginning of that season was all he could talk about since realizing we would have to stop over through to get our trailer fixed. He even invited Nick to join him.
The boys left at 4:30 in the morning with Mike’s dad and his friend, Jamie in tow. While they made their way to the mountains, the rest of us had a leisurely afternoon in White Fish, a lake town only 20 minutes from Kalispell. It was unusually warm and the five of us sat by the lake, watching people row on what looked like surf boards and canoes.
We also made the mistake of feeding the friendly ducks. We naively beckoned the birds over with some bread and minutes later, they were scouring our towels, nipping at our toes and pestering us for more. Apparently, we weren’t the first duck feeders.
While sitting on the shore, I gazed out on to the lake. The glass- like surface reflected the green and purplish mountains in the distance, which were spattered with wispy clouds and low mists. It must be much cooler up there, I thought as I considered where Nick and his friends were. I mused about how much fun they were having, eying out large elk and deer whilst dodging families of grizzly bears.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Later that evening, the hunter’s Suburban pulled into the drive. Us wives ran eagerly to the door, waiting to greet them on the front stoop. Four weary boys stumbled out of the car, cloaked in camouflage, looking utterly spent. We ushered them into the house, filled their plates with elk stew and waited patiently to hear about their day.
“So…” started one of the girls, “how was it?”
No one spoke a word and the boys looked at each other as if to say, “Who dares to first divulge into their harrowing tale?”
“Well,” said Nick, “it was definitely unforgettable.” Thus began the retelling what befell them in the woods that day.
When they reached the Swan Range at 5:30 in the morning, the temperature had already reached over 60 degrees Fahrenheit. Thinking it pleasant, the boys made their way up the trail and into the mountains. Expecting the day to be relatively mild in temperature, the boys brought only a single bottle of water each.
They had to hike in seven miles to find elk pasture and though Jamie manned the binoculars regularly, they spotted nothing. At 11 am, the sun was high in the sky and there was not a wisp of wind. Finding nothing, they marched on and by one o’clock, they had fully depleted their water supply. By three in the afternoon, no animals had decided to show themselves and the boys were desperately thirsty.
Mike laughed as he spoke of Nick’s most desperate moment, which had either come from madness or pure genius. While the guys took a break from the heat, Nick went in search of water. Mike turned the corner to find Nick kneeling by a log, digging furiously. Mike watched incredulously as Nick pulled out a fistful of wet shrubbery and squeezed a few precious drops of moisture into his mouth from the wet sticks. This was hell, they’d decided.
Finally, they boys gave up searching for any wildlife, who, by no doubt, were themselves quite warm and hiding in the cooler, wooded areas. What kind of idiot elk would stand out in the sun on this day? They hiked back out (another seven miles) and made it to the car by dusk. Mike and Nick feel asleep almost immediately in the car, only rousing to down a few liters of Gatorade from the closest gas station. Like good wives should, we tried to make our would-be hunters as comfortable as possible and uttered not a word about our relaxing afternoon at the lake.
We left Montana the next day, making our way through Wyoming and Colorado to reach Denver later that night. We passed through possibly the most lifeless terrain on the tour. Nick’s slogan – “Wyoming – Oops! We forgot the trees” – encompassed the variety we experienced through the majority of the large, western states.
We played two shows in the wonderful state of Colorado, while visiting some old friends and seeing new places. I have to give a shout out to the area of Colorado Springs, where you can literally drink mineral water from the ground, play arcade games for a penny and wander through the Garden of the Gods, where red rocks appear to have fallen from the sky.
After Colorado, we passed through more barren states, including New Mexico. We drove past old oil rigs that teeter-tottered slowly in the dying afternoon light. We finally arrived in Fort Worth, Texas where we met our good friends, Peter and Laurel Cabrera.
After Peter showed the boys the new (and ridiculously huge) Cowboy’s stadium, we played a show for an amazing youth group. Peter and Laurel were incredible hosts, making sure our laundry was clean and our stomachs were full. We also learned why Texas is the greatest state ever, why they constantly think they can secede from the U.S. and why it’s impossible that they ever will.
We said our goodbyes to Texas and made a small stop in a place called Texarkana, bordering on – you guessed it – Texas and Arkansas. We were able to meet up with Jacky’s older sister and brother-in-law, who are foster parents to EIGHT boys. We asked them about a million questions over dinner at the Olive Garden while a late summer storm raged outside. They are an amazing couple who have completely devoted themselves to eight young boys (while expecting a little girl) and couldn’t be more happy to do it. We were sad to leave them as well, being blessed by their lifestyle and hospitality.
We drove the next 10 hours through Arkansas, Louisiana and Tennessee to arrive in Atlanta where we met up with one of my best friends from college. We were beginning to see the arrival of Autumn in the densely wooded forests of the south. After playing a show for some old and new friends at the Restoration Church of God, we relaxed the next day at Christine and Michael’s house in Woodstock, GA. There, we were given a proper autumn meal, ate pumpkin pie and sipped cider by the fire. We were certainly enjoying every moment America had to offer.
We headed to North Carolina the next afternoon and were greeted by family and friends known as the Spainhours. They ushered us into their house, where we were fed a huge Southern meal. It was possibly some of the most delicious food on tour and almost every dish included a stick of butter, sour cream and possibly Cool Whip. There is nothing like the South.
We were introduced to an amazing couple, Tim and Shelby Brewer, who make some of the best sweet tea you can find and will adopt you as family. After a show in Chapel Hill with some old friends, we headed back to Greensboro to perform at the Brewer’s church.
They could not contain their excitement about having us and told us they had hired everything we needed in order to perform for their youth in their church’s gym. When we pulled up to the church the day of the show, we realized they had gone above and beyond what we could have possibly imagined.
A large semi was being unloaded at the back door of the gym and sound equipment everywhere. When we stepped into the gym, all of our jaws dropped at what we saw.
They hadn’t just hired a small sound system, no. In that gym was a sound system big enough for U2, complete with huge subs, dozens of rack units and a 24-channel analog mixer (that is sooo sound guy talk, but whatever – I’m married to one).
We blew away the crowd that night (literally, the older people had to gather their things and either stand outside or leave) and then were given yet another, genuine, fried and gargantuan southern meal. The meal was later worked off during a round of basketball shoot – out in the gym.
We couldn’t have played at a more extreme opposite venue the night after our show in North Carolina. We traveled only four hours to a club in Virginia, where we’d be working with some friends from James Madison University who are involved with Invisible Children. Nick had four channels to work with and we crammed the boys on a stage the size of our bathroom. The Artful Dodger (the name of the club) had a really eccentric, hip atmosphere that invited anyone off the street for some great food or an espresso. I was lucky enough to see some of my family, who drove in to Harrisburg to see my set. We ended the night as early as we could, preparing ourselves for the long drive into New York the next day.
We drove through West Virginia, Delaware, Maryland, Pennsylvania and New Jersey to finally reach the skyline of Manhattan by mid-afternoon. To give my friends a true experience, we drove through the Lincoln Tunnel and emerged out the other side on to 42nd street. We drove past Times Square, Broadway and Fifth Avenue to the other side of the city towards Long Island. While in mid-town, a young man on a bicycle-taxi approached our car.
“Yo!” he called out, while riding dangerously close to our vehicle. Dan rolled down the window and greeted him. In true NY fashion, he spoke candidly in a thick Brooklyn accent.
“You guys a band? Whattaya like political awr somthin’?” he asked, referring to our trailer which is emblazoned with our band and tour name, Let Justice Sing. Dan answered his questions while the young man dodged parked cars and flew around buses. He finally had to turn down an avenue, but not before we handed him a CD and thanked him for his interest.
At around eight in the evening, we pulled on to the Shelter Island Ferry and sailed to my home in Eastern Long Island. When I say that I’m from NY, most people assume that means I’m from the city. When I say Long Island, they assume that island is small. I don’t why – it clearly says Long in it’s title. So when we finally made it to the Island, we were ready for food and bed. While Nick and I stayed in my old room, the rest of the band braved the cold in little cabins at a camp by the water. Not fully prepared for the East coast cold, we had to supply them with more blankets and heaters the following night.
We were able to speak at my church on Sunday morning, where I have to say that BJ, our drummer, was an absolute hit. He had the whole crowd laughing at his Aussie humor and I’m sure the tweens were ogling his long, rock star hair and exotic accent.
That night, we played one of our final shows. We still continue to talk about how incredibly special that show was. We concluded that it was the best finale we could have asked for. Many of my friends and family came out to support us, as well as people I’d never met. We had an awesome night and thanks to those of you who came out. As Mike said that night, there was something truly remarkable about it that will make it one of the best shows from our memory. Thanks again, friends!
For our final show, we headed to Hamden, Connecticut to The Space, where we were the featured artist during open mic night. I have never been to an open mic night. I’ve heard about it on T.V. If you also have never been to one, I suggest going. You will have fond memories for the rest of your life. You just never know what’s going to happen. Seriously.
After our last show, we left at dawn to make the 48 hour drive back to Montana. We decided to push through the night and drive 39 hours straight. Because we were able to drop off our drums in Maryland, we created a sleeping cubby in the very back of the suburban. I think that’s what made those 39 hours bearable.
During our drive, I awoke occasionally between tolls (which felt like every 10 minutes. I swear, no one pays for their roads in the North East. We did.). I forced myself to see Chicago, though through the late night drizzle, I could barely make out the down town. From Connecticut, we drove through New Jersey, Maryland, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois and made it through Wisconsin by the early morning. When we passed into Minnesota just before breakfast, I opened my eyes, looked out the window and my heart leaped. Snow! It was snowing! Or was it? Was I just delirious?
It was, in fact, snowing and when we stopped for breakfast, we took full advantage of it. I opened my mouth to catch snowflakes, the boys (who were in shorts and flip flops) made snowballs and we stopped to eat at a friendly breakfast joint. It snowed most of the morning and stopped once we reached the middle of North Dakota. We finally got a motel at nine in the evening in Glendive, Montana with only nine hours left on our drive.
The next day rolled by and by late afternoon, we saw the Rocky Mountains looming in the distance. Their tops were covered with snow and we slowly inched our way towards them. We passed through East Glacier around six, knowing there was less than an hour left of our epic drive. Mike’s parents phoned with only 20 minutes left, asking if we were all still alive and talking to one another. I remarked that though no one was in fact speaking, it wasn’t a bad thing. Anticipation of home was ripe on our hearts and we held our tongues in order to avoid any and all disagreements. We finally arrived at the Murray’s house, where Don and Barb, Mike’s parents, and Daisy, their little puppy, were waiting. All of us almost wept at the sight, unaware of how we were able to make it this far.
The next night, we were rewarded for our efforts with a real Thanksgiving dinner, complete with homemade cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie. We even got to share about what we were thankful for. We wouldn’t have ended our journey any other way. It was perfect.
One by one, the band parted ways until only five of us left together in the early afternoon on Sunday, October 18th. Full exhaustion had set in as we said our goodbyes to the Murrays in the Montana airport and made the 30 hour trek back to Australia.
This tour has been absolutely incredible and thank you to everyone who did so much to see it happen. We were blessed everywhere we went and are excited to see what the future holds for Five Star Streets and Saving Sparrow!
See you next year…
