These are some of the heated disputes that occurred on our recent trip – and I’m not saying it was me who had these disputes.

1. How on earth do I program my destination? Why are you so mysterious, and what are *POIs?
2. Stay where I stick you, Serena. Stay, I say. Stay.
3. Oh, shut up, Serena. Your voice is irritating, dispassionate and you have trouble with your “r”s. Anyway, I know where I’m going and do not need you.
4. You’re going the long way, Serena. The map is showing a different route which I’ll bet the farm is faster.
5. You’re going the wrong way, Serena. I’ve been here before and I have no memory of this particular strip mall.
6. That’s it. You’re going in the glove compartment. After all, I have  someone in the  navigator’s seat who reads very well when she puts on reading glasses which seem always to be tucked away in the bottom of her purse.
7. Well, and I say this begrudgingly, you may be allowed to return temporarily. The glasses cannot be found (to be fair, this particular heated dispute is with the party in the navigator’s seat).
8. You may be in a small snit, Serena, but please allow yourself to be stuck on the windshield again. Please I say. Please
9. Don’t make me stop this van to reprogram you for Rossland, BC and not Rossland, AB.
10. It is your fault that I have to stop this van to reprogram you for Rossland, BC and not Rossland, AB.
11. I don’t have time to mess around with your high-handed directions. Now I’ll have to turn this rig around.
12. I don’t have time for my high-handed directions. Now, I’ll have to turn this rig around. It’s your fault.

I say this to everyone else in the van: I’m sorry for the anxious outburst that caused me to scream a four letter word and demand we do a U turn on an unfamiliar road. I blame Serena. I’m sorry that the little talks I had with myself every night to come to some reconciliation with Serena did not bear fruit. I’m sorry I missed the turn off to Sherwood Park. I’m sorry you had to witness all this.

Were I Serena, I might be a tad thin skinned about the heaped abuse she bore during that last trip. But I am…well, me.

Not the appropriately named Serena.

*Points of interest. Unlike this blog.

I seemed to have lost my past post. Probably trying to make these photos fit on the page in a sensible way. I have to forget that now, and let them fall where they may. They include: a western sky: me either trying to hide my neck in my sweater or grab a quick nap; still life with fat cat and chips; Cindy napping; Christina Lake; a stop for an interview and me noticing and pointing to the huge canine tracks on the roadside; Clarence and Raylene waiting for me to stop pointing. Most pictures by Cindy and her iPhone. The cat is mine, though.

It’s a singular joy to arrive home to a sparkling house, fresh floweres, a nice Pino Noir, a tasty little snack and fresh sheets on one’s own bed. Even better is to rise, have familiar coffee, find two New York Times crosswords (saved from the Saturday papers), and then discover that the basement landing had been cleared of all bottles and cans that awaited recycling. Best, to go to the basement to notice it’s been tidied, cleaned and organized. How good and satisfying, and for all this I’m grateful.

To me, this was a happy tour. Going into it, none of us knew how it might be  -  how we would travel together, how the work would be divided and completed, if we would get along. Turns out we travelled well together, we did our respective jobs with no question or fuss, we got along splendidly. There were many, many laughs and even some great meals, considering all the traveling we did through remote areas. Sometimes good coffee was beyond easy access, but it made arrival at a Starbucks-like establishment an great occasion.

My compatriots, Raylene, Cindy and Clarence, were easy travel companions and colleagues. The shows went pretty well, every one in its own way. With one or two exceptions, accommodations were comfortable. One place was a bit dodgy, but the welcome was warm.

One place was not so dodgy but the welcome was cool,  and the coffee – supplied by the roaster one block away – cost $3.30 per cup. As Clarence and I were leaving our breakfast table, Cindy had come to the dining room to grab a coffee to take to her room. We chatted a bit, and she decided might as well take two coffees, thereby saving a trip downstairs. Cups in hand, she politely asked how much she owed. The response was “$6.30″ “Pardon me?” said Cindy, and the young woman re-calculated. “Oh, I’m sorry – I made a mistake” she said. “It’s $6.60″.  It seemed that every “Could I…? Would it be possible…? Are there any…? Could you please…?”  was met with a half-smile and a sorry little “No” accompanied by a pathetic head-tilt that seemed to suggest an tacit understanding of the disappointment the requester would experience. However, the promise of hand-milled soap was kept and there was a Saltine-sized wafer of it in each room. I would have traded it for a private bathroom, I can assure you. The lasting upside, though, was the re-telling of the story which was revived regularly. We would often answer requests with a sorry little “No” and tilt our heads in sympathy.

However, one good thing about that particular brief stay is that my dear friends, Stephen and Lorne, showed up unexpectedly and arranged a nice little after-show snack and beverage. How they did it, I’m not sure. I expect money passed hands. I’m absolutely certain no violence occurred.

There were many other running jokes and routines, but they fall into the “had to be there” category. Will I include them here? Well, I must say “No” and tilt my head in sympathy.

The weather was unseasonably warm and fine. The clear days allowed us to see the breathtaking beauty of Southern Alberta, and BC. The foothills of the Rockies are soul lifting, and especially beautiful this time of year, with a skiff of snow and golden grass poking through it. I think it was Geronimo who said that horses made the land more beautiful and he was right. Whenever horses were visible from the van, a little stir of excitement lifted the whole experience a bit, as if there had been a sudden burst of extra beauty erupting for our additional pleasure. The Foothills, the Rockies, the Cascades, the Arbutus and Redwoods of the coast, the plane-flat fields leading to North Saskatchewan – they made the long drives pleasurable.

The folks at all the venues were beyond welcoming. Food, hot and cold drinks – some providing hot meals. No complaints. And the audiences were responsive and enthusiastic.

I would be hard pressed to recall a better group experience, although traveling with John Reischman ranks high not only for his musicianship, but also his uncanny ability to sniff out great food and lead us to it.

We parted last night and returned to our respective homes. All happy to be back, I suspect. I know I’m happy to be here, but will look forward with joyful anticipation to the time when we can do it again.

Hope no one tilts their head, smiles a little and says “No”.

In many of these community arts centres, volunteers figure prominently in making the shows happen. They’re cheerful, enthusiastic, helpful. They sell CDs, make food appear in dressing rooms, attend to your comfort- they are the lifeblood of the venues.

Bragg Creek is outstanding…in fact, all of our Alberta dates have been smooth and welcoming. There must be something about the expansiveness that allows a relaxation of spirit. It’s palpable.

Off to Edmonton today, for our second to last show. That would be -and here it is again- the penultimate.

Oh, must mention that the food had been exceptional on this trip. A very pleasant and nourishing thing for the tired and roadworn.

More tomorrow.

Kind of lost track of what day of the week it is, but it’s all good, no matter the day.

I guess my show at the Carleton was erroneously advertised as taking place on March 7th….it’s still on the 14th.

Off to finish laundry. Quite a treat.

Have to say, Raylene and Cindy are singing like angels, and I’m singing like an admirer of Raylene and Cindy. I’m a hanger on for dear life singer.

Another great treat us to have Clarence Deveau with us. Such a fine musician and such a delight on the long trips.

When I get home, I’ll be able to fill in some of the good moments. Right now, the bare bones are the daily offerings.

But, here’s a shot. Raylene was trying to do a telephone interview and we could not manage to shut our mouths. She was most gracious.

Tomorrow we bid farewell to the Ford Flex we’ve been driving. It’s served us well. We fly from Kelowna to Calgary for more Alberta dates.

Well…I’m off to the ferry gift shop to see if I can find batteries. Or some kind of energy.