Gathering Yarn

I’m loath to call this last weekend a cap on my summer, but I think it’ll be my last chance to perform outdoors until the snows have come and gone.

This weekend, I made the trek out to Eagle Creek Campground, about a half-hour west of Saskatoon, for DoyleFest. While I wasn’t accepted as a main stage performer this year, I was offered a chance to play the bridge stage in exchange for free festival tickets and a campsite. In the spirit of making friends, music and finding adventure, I headed out early Saturday morning.

Eagle Creek Campground is in one of those regional parks where you need to drive at least 15 minutes down the sketchiest of Saskatchewan highways. I turned onto the road and immediately knew that the speed limit was 90 – if not 80.

I arrived, and although I was a bit nervous and slightly lost, I was quickly greeted by Rob Nottenboom, who was driving the festival people mover. I found my camping spot, was introduced to all the bands and performers in my area and quickly got set up so I could go find the bridge stage in time for my first performance.

Tubbman Junction were in the middle of their set when I showed up, so I stashed my guitar in the stage and checked them out for a bit. I took a quick wander over to the main stage to see what that was about, then looped back to the bridge to see what was up. I arrived in time to see Tubbman Junction hand off to none other than Rob N., who, as it turns out, helped to set up and arrange the bridge stage.

The afternoon was then filled with playing; I did my two slots at 1:00 and 3:30 and sat in on bass with Saskatoon singer Barry James McKay (glad I brought the ol’ 4-string along!). The rest of the night was full of listening to some amazing performers, hanging with new friends, and just exploring the lovely campground.

The next morning, as I was putting a few things away, who else should wander into my campsite but Eliza Marie Doyle, founder and namesake of DoyleFest! She came to say hello, we exchanged our thanks, and she encouraged me to hike over and do a couple of songs at the main stage for the open stage. So, I dutifully trudged over with my acoustic and a couple of kazoos to play a short early morning set.

Somewhere in all that activity and fun, it occurred to me that I’d never actually signed in and presented my gate ticket. So I zipped over to the sign-in and checked in. To my surprise – and even delight – instead of the usual wristband with the sticky bits that pull out my arm hair, they gave me a little braid of pastel-coloured yarns.

Now there’s the whole rustic, folky angle to this that makes it great, but it hit me on a different angle that made me very pensive. During my grandmother’s internment a few weeks ago, my aunt did an exercise with the family where she threw around a ball of grandma’s wool into a web. The idea was that we should all stay connected, even if grandma and grandpa weren’t around to bring us together anymore. I tied a length of that yarn to the headstock of my guitar, where it’s been ever since. So, seeing another bundle of yarns so soon, and connected to music, felt like a sign. And it certainly gave me pause to think about the places I got that yarn, how they connected to my music and why each one was very special to me.