Having arrived after a show at Mehanata Bulgarian Bar (Manhattan) in the very wee hours, the Ameranouche caravan set up tents and zonked readily out. Being nestled in the Catskills and lulled by the rolling melody of the River has a sweetness that we can all agree on. None of us mind not agreeing on everything. It just makes it all the sweeter when it does happen.
In the morning light, we enjoyed the long-awaited first glimpse of our surroundings. In the down time, we went over a few of our trickier tunes. A man with a name that sounded like “Taco” wandered over to our rehearsal and we ended up doing an impromptu mini-set for his family, a few campsites down. That’s another thing that we all agree on: That we are here to spread good music, Seeing peoples’ faces light up when they hear it makes us feel very thankful. We packed up and drove north, energized.
Our friends at Stony Creek Inn, which is either more rustic than charming, or more charming than rustic, or both, are in our thoughts all the time. They confront more perils than anyone should have to confront, and once again we are glad to have music at our fingertips in order to convey the unconveyable. They are up and running, the place is hopping, the burritos are luscious, and we thank our friends there for coming out.
Being in a Gypsy jazz band is all about learning experiences. For instance, I’ve learned that every year at about this time, guitarists need to be dunked in Schroon Lake, and then there needs to be ice cream. Fortunately we had a gig at the Boathouse Concert Series, conveniently located about 10 feet from the water’s edge, so we piled in the van once again to be a) refreshed and b) once again wowed by the wonderful audience with friends both new and old.
A most alluring hammock welcomed us to the guest house where we landed that night. Everyone wanted it until we realized it looked more comfortable than it was. We all were so glad to be resting and not driving, though, as stood the original plan. Big thanks to our wonderful host and hostess.
Once again, we’d arrived after dark, so our surroundings were first sighted upon awakening. This time we were in a fabulous structure (our host, himself, the architect!) with glorious lines and windows and gardens all culminating in a truly home-y, snug abode, complete with dog and cat. And right, smack in the Adirondack Mountains. Splendid.
The morning’s drive led us out of the Adirondacks, though a town called Paradox, and past magnificent views with rocks, lakes and almost enough mountains to placate the bass player. We took a shortcut that involved a neat little cable-ferry across the river at Vermont’s border.
Abruptly, the mountains became rolling hills. Farmland and wildflowers, fluttering of breeze, and decent roads had us cruising home in top form, home to our families and comforts. The southern edges of the Green Mountains and then a check engine light were the last few notable bits of the adventure.
Hopefully we’ll see you at the Gorham Music Festival in Maine on Sunday, July 27th. Till then…be ‘Nouchey!