Yesterday I performed at Washburn Days in Washburn, ND. It was the third show in a row where I arrived from a trucking run with only minutes to spare before going on stage.

After the first set, Hana and I walked down Main Street to check out an antique car show. By chance we saw a flyer advertising a James Talley show--that very night, at a barn only five miles away!

James Talley, in case you don't know of him, is a great American songwriter. My dad often played his Tryin' Like the Devil album back in the mid-70s, and I used to perform his song, "Are They Gonna Make Us Outlaws Again?"

We made it to the show, which was terrific, and afterward we struck up a friendship with him and his wife, Janice. Wonderful people. I bought three of his new CDs (Happy Father's Day, Dad!), and received a fourth, a Woody Guthrie tribute album, in trade for one of mine.

I look forward to corresponding with Mr. Talley in the near future. I'll need a mentor if I'm gonna keep troubadouring, and he'd be a dandy one.

Rest in Peace, Emilie Hamilton.

Emilie passed away two weeks ago in her Spokane home. She was one of my most supportive fans, and over the years she and her husband Arnold became dear friends. Last year she loaned me $1000 to help fund a CD project, and although I insisted on paying her back I could tell she wanted me to keep it. The year before that she set up a house concert for me on my 38th birthday and baked me a cake. She used blueberries to write "38" in the white frosting. She was a good, sweet person. I will miss her.

Just fish-trucked to downtown Vancouver, BC, and back. It's a prettier drive than the eastward trek to Toronto: rhododendrons and other flowers of the NW are in bloom; Snoqualmie Pass waterfalls are gushing; Montana's big rivers are full to the banks. Saw eagles and elk and, in Post Falls, Idaho, ate real Mexican food. Which is a big deal when you reside anywhere in North Dakota.

Auspiciously, the night we got to Vancouver the Vancouver Canucks beat the Boston Bruins in Game One of the Stanley Cup. Canada, of all countries, has had an eighteen-year hockey championship dry spell, so I'm rooting for the other home team: I was born in Vancouver. Ma & Pa Sand were living in British Columbia in 1970, ranching in the Chilcotin Country and striving to avoid Nixon's toxins. After I was born, they realized they needed familial support and they also realized they wanted to part of changes happening in the U.S. So I lived in Canada for just five weeks before they moved back to Montana. I now possess a Canadian birth certificate, and I can never run for POTUS.

Upon return to Killdeer two days ago, my pal Indio Saravanja was there to greet me. He'd rolled in hours before and slept in my parents' guest bedroom. Indio drives truck off and on professionally, but most notably he's a world-class troubadour. It was a treat to show him around Killdeer Mountain with Hana.

Hana, by the way, flew to Espanola, Florida, today to visit her ailing Grandmother Joyce. Per request, Hana took Joyce some fresh rhubarb from our garden.

Tomorrow I drive to Toronto, and on Wednesday, to Calgary. I'll return in time to play some songs at Army's in Dickinson Friday night, opening for Outlaw Sippin', my friend Beni Paulson's rockin' new band. They'll then back me up on my joint "This Time," as a segue into their set.

Played two shows in the last few days. The first was in Dickinson, ND, at the Odd Fellows Hall. I barely made it, because Shawn and I were caught in a nasty traffic jam in Chicago. We pulled into Dickinson just in time for me to plug in my guitar in and play a two-hour set. Fun show, classy venue.



Yesterday afternoon I sang some western-themed songs at the 25th Annual Dakota Cowboy Poetry Gathering in Medora, ND. Congratulations to Bill and JoAnn Lowman (pictured) for hosting it all these years. This was the sixth consecutive year I've performed there.

Happy 42nd Anniversary to my parents!

Alert: The Prairie Puffballs have arrived on Killdeer Mountain. Hana and I are frying them up with butter.


Hana with two puffs. Shorty observes.


A view inside the cabin.


Down by the beaver dams.

Back from Toronto. In the sleeper cab I read LL Cool J's 1997 autobiography: I Make My Own Rules. Last trip--Wilco: Learning How to Die.

Hana, Dad, Mom, and I made some raised garden beds out of old railroad ties yesterday. We'll be getting some sheep manure from a neighbors' ranch to mix into the soil, and then we'll plant tomatoes, beets, carrots, lettuce, squash, and whatnot.

Although our cabin on Killdeer Mountain is remote, it's beginning to feel like we're part of a robust community. We buy raw honey from one neighbor, raw milk from another, bison meat from a third, and free-range chicken eggs from a fourth. Our closest neighbors let us pick apples from their orchard in the fall. We are figuring out canning and drying methods as we go.

Soon the wild mushrooms will arrive, and then chokecherries and juneberries. I feel lucky to live so close to the land these days, and especially lucky to have someone to share it with.

I'm also happy to have a job that pays all my bills. Tomorrow night I drive to Toronto with a tanker full of "St. Peter's Fish," I'll then get one day off before heading to Beaver Fisheries in Toronto on Monday.

After nine nights on the road in a semi-truck, I find that the world has changed. Osama Bin Laden has been killed and buried at sea. Alabama got hammered by 173 tornadoes in a day. Prince William wed a lovely peasant lass.

While not as historic, Hana was stranded in our cabin without electricity or running water for a couple days, after a blizzard dumped eighteen more inches of snow on Killdeer Mountain. The yard and horse trails are littered with tangles of broken trees. The more flexible conifers are slanted sideways.

As for me, I'm ready to get physical. Being cooped up for 200 hours in any moving vehicle is not healthy. The truck's odometer rolled over the million-mile mark last Wednesday, near Sauk Centre, MN. In the blink of an eye, it went from 999999.9 to 000000.0 with no room for the "1." (Only last year I watched it roll lucky sevens.)

Roll Out, Cowboy rolls on with recent screenings in New York state and an upcoming week-long theatrical exhibition this summer in Chicago. More on this later.

I'll be driving fish around for possibly eight of the next nine days. See you later.

Here is a website where you can make virtual sand art.

Mostly I just want to write about nature. A friend thinks I should blog more about music, but right now I'm more jazzed about birds and frogs (which are chirping like crazy down in the draw right now).

The music business is on hold, but I am writing songs. Weird ones--as if that's new for me. For a challenge, I'm going to try writing a Nashville-worthy hit this year. If anyone has a clever song title, send it my way and I might try to make something out of it.

The producer of an upcoming documentary about how technology is affecting rural Montanans has asked to use four of my songs in his film. He offered to pay, but I chose to donate them, since the film will be broadcast on Montana's public television station, which I grew up with and support.

Another piece of good news: I've been invited to perform at the 25th Annual Dakota Cowboy Poetry Gathering this spring. I may sing Curley Fletcher's "Strawberry Roan," which I memorized during my last trucking run.

What else? I've been burning a large pile of brush all afternoon, and I smell like wet smoke. The Killdeer Mountain wild crocuses have popped up, snow be damned. Hana is selling rare antique sewing relics on ETSY this week. Gilda is waiting patiently for supper.

The last five days of trucking were wild. From North Dakota snow to Iowa tornadoes to a Michigan heat-wave to a Calgary ice storm. We got held up at three border crossings for multiple hours and reasons. We were also fined several hundred dollars at a pernicious Ontario weigh station.

Now I'm back in snowy NoDak. Horses are pawing for grass. Beaver have returned to their lodges.

Another week of truckin' starts tonight.

As of today, the birds are back on Killdeer Mountain. Ducks, turkeys, goldfinches, pheasants, woodpeckers, falcons, crows, bluebirds, meadowlarks, and nuthatches are suddenly everywhere. Pelicans, hawks, and geese fly overhead. Coming soon: leaves on trees!

To illustrate yesterday's blog:

Bringing supplies down to the cabin.


The cabin.


Sledding from the cabin down to the barn.


The parent's work-in-progress house on the ridge where Hana and I now get internet.

Hana and I are permanently living on Killdeer Mountain now. We snowshoe a hundred yards to get to the cabin. The snow this week is half as deep as last week. We should be able to drive in next week, unless we get more snow.

Ponds on the mountain are thawing. I saw two big beaver yesterday. I've seen lots of turkey tracks, but no turkeys yet. A couple of chickadees have discovered the sunflower seeds in the bird feeder near the cabin. The horses are sticking to the south pasture, to commune across the fence with the Diamond C steeds.

We've yet to turn the cabin's water back on. We fill a water jug from the pump near the bunkhouse and sled it to the front door. Washing dishes takes extra time, sponge baths replace showers, and in lieu of the loo we use the outhouse.

The cabin isn't insulated, so mornings are nippy until we get the stove cranking. It's been good burning through the old birch and oak woodpile.

Hana has been creating feasts: squash, yams, chicken, steak, asparagus, lentils, black beans, rice, chocolate pudding. Eggs and oatmeal for breakfast. Tea at every meal.

Yesterday I hooked Internet into the parents' half-finished house up on the ridge, where Hana has a workspace. She's eager to resume her online Etsy business.

For once I'll mourn the passing of the cold season. It's peaceful up here.

Heading up to Killdeer Mountain for the weekend. Snowshoes, check. Extra blankets, check. Dog food, check.

Prairie dogs, open your little sleepy eyes.

Badgers, cowboy up!

Skunks, join the whiffy chorus.

Horse turds are melting and snow banks are wilting.

Mother Wolf, put on your slicker.

Let's go for a ride.

Lambs and calves, lambs and calves.

It's April 1st.

Toronto. Tilapia. Truckin'.

Back Thursday . . .

I've been a King Sunny Ade fan since 1985, when I first heard Synchro System. African music and reggae rocked my soul during those lonely teen years.

Other favorites included Half Pint, Gregory Isaacs, Marcia Griffiths, Steel Pulse, Third World, UB40, The Heptones, Toots and the Maytals, Freddie McGregor, Black Uhuru, King Tubby, Desmond Dekker, Harry Belafonte, Aswad, Eek-a-Mouse, Burning Spear, and, of course, Bob Marley and the Wailers.

Just snowshoed down to Lariat Liquors with Hana to buy Grandma two bottles of Strawberry White Zinfandel. Turns out she would've preferred the regular White Zinfandel.

Three years ago I was invited to open up a show for Corb Lund and the Hurtin' Albertans at the 25th National Cowboy Poetry Gathering in Elko, NV. I didn't think I'd ever be invited to perform there, so it was a huge honor. I played my standard fare that night--raps, cowboy poems, and folk songs. I think my cowboy/folk songs were appreciated, but my hip-thrusting raps and avant garde poetry didn't impress the buckaroos nor the folklorists.

For the past two years I haven't been invited back. I didn't plan to apply for the 2012 gathering, but a couple days ago my pal Andy Hedges called and strongly encouraged me to try again. I'll let you know what happens.

I think I've mentioned before that Andy's one of the best young folk singers I know. He often collaborates with another Lubbock friend of mine, and stellar songwriter, Andy Wilkinson. Their release last year, Welcome to the Tribe, won the Wrangler Award for Outstanding Traditional Western Album from the National Cowboy & Western Heritage Museum.

Now the Andy's are working on a new collaboration. Hedges plans to include my 1996 arrangement of Curley Fletcher's "Saddle Bum" (heard on my Love's Hangover Sale CD). My contribution to the evolution of this song (originally titled "Saddle Tramp" and performed on a 1960s Harry Jackson LP) was to add harmonica and change the melody to make it more mournful.

The sentiments of "Saddle Tramp" are dear to me. They express my own feelings of being a ranch refugee and troubadour. I'm pleased that Andy will polish up this gem and carry it into the 21st Century:

Verse 2:

"I used to work, but now I shirk, and never more will hire / To mark an ear, to turn no steer, nor tend no branding fire. / The pie and cake are mine to take, the best of everything. / I'll lay my head on the softest bed, if I'll blow my harp and sing."

Verse 4:

"I stay awhile to sing and smile, but when there comes a rift / And things get cool, I ain't no fool, I fork my bronc and drift. / I ramble down to that little town when winter comes along / To little [Hana] in [Santa Ana] and sing for her my song."

***
Note 1: Curley Fletcher is most well known for "The Strawberry Roan" (1915).

Note 2: Andy turns 31 today--Happy birthday, Andy!

Note 3: Little Hana arrives home tomorrow to a fresh foot of powdery snow.

This is a Sandman and Camo krush groove from 1999. Calvin Johnson and Diana Arens recorded it at the Dub Narcotic Studio Big Room, Olympia, WA.

Two mics, one take.

Check out Camo's human beatbox skills. So fresh, so clean.

While making oatmeal pancakes this morning, two songs drifted up through my subconscious: "Stuck Inside of Mobile with the Memphis Blues Again" and "Dire Wolf." The songs of Dylan and the Grateful Dead tap so sweetly into the roots of American musics: Blues, Jazz, Carnival, Gospel, Hillbilly, etc. Weird songs that reflect strange times.

Strange times again: Arab nations in revolt, Japan's multiple heartbreaking crises, America's ill-boding wealth discrepancy, Mexico's civil war.

But as for me, life is fairly stable. I feel like Casablanca's Rick Blaine, biding his time in his private casino, pragmatic and inscrutable.

That said, I'm starting to worry.

Happy St. Paddy's Day! Two days late, 'tis true. I've been on the road for the last five days with that lorry-drivin' fishmonger, Shawn Goodall--an Irishman himself.

My lovely 90-year-old Irish Grandmother, Julia Viola Sullivan Herak, at her Montana nursing home with niece Carol.

Dunn Center had its St. Patrick's Day celebration today, so Dad and I drove over for sandwiches and pie at City Hall. Many of the D.C. lasses were there, including Ruth, LuAnne, and Martha, all of Roll Out, Cowboy fame. : )

Random Thoughts of the Day

Favorite co-worker/employee: Damian Loverro (diligent bike mechanic, he managed Deschutes River Cyclery)

Favorite employer: Gary Schneider (philanthropic contractor, Sunrise Construction)

Favorite job: Montana Outdoor Program (kayak instructor & mountain guide)

My Grandpa Nick Herak (pictured) passed away when I was a teenager. I never cried so hard. He was a cattle rancher and wheat farmer, and he and Grandma also had chickens, pigs, dairy cows, horses, and nine children. Grandpa loved sports, pinochle, and ice cream. He was a staunch Democrat and devout Catholic. Two weeks ago would have been his 99th birthday.

He was the sweetest guy there ever was. He would come to all my little league baseball games. Afterward he'd take me to Dairy Queen for a "Full Meal Deal"--hamburger, fries, soft drink, and a sundae. He encouraged me to believe that I could become a professional baseball player. The truth is he probably could've gone pro if he hadn't been tied to the farm.

Grandpa's parents came from Croatia. If there's one European country I truly want to visit, it's Croatia. I've even thought about calling myself "The C.R.O.A.T.: Countriest Rapper of All Time."

I'm proud that Roll Out, Cowboy's European festival debut took place last week in Zagreb, the capital of Croatia. I hope that some of my distant cousins attended; I'd like to hear their reports.

I'm also pleased that Roll Out, Cowboy made its North Dakota debut at the Fargo Film Festival last week and WON top prize for Best Musical Score! Kudos to my musician cohorts--Shawn Parke, Jonah Carpenter, and Jeff Vezain--and also to director Elizabeth Lawrence and editor Elizabeth Ross for combining the music and footage so expertly.

I'm back hauling live fish with Goodall Trucking. We taxied 10,000 pounds of slimy buffalo carp to Calgary yesterday.

Monday we're eastbound to Toronto with tilapia. Thursday we return to Calgary.

<---Goodall

****

I tried to buy this t-shirt for Hana at various truck stops last year, but the smallest they ever sell are size XL, which would fit her like a nightgown.

P.S. In related news, here's a brief, very funny video my friend Jonny "Corndawg" Fritz just made to raise funds for his upcoming CD: Down on the Bikini Line.