The air is just sweeter down here. Pulling into Charleston was like emerging from a cold dream into a new paradise. Only hours before I had gone to sleep on a cold mountain highway in Appalachia after driving all night till dawn and now woke near the beach, saltwater smell drifting through the cabin. The beach felt replenishing. After months of trying to stay warm under layers and layers of clothing in the High Rockies, I couldn't help but jump in the salty Atlantic three or four times, cold water, waves and all.
The show on King St. was packed and rowdy. We were told the female/male ratio here is 7-1. In the Vail Valley it's one female for every seven dudes. I'm moving to the beach...
Something about the South promotes a heavier, slower way of playing music and leading life, for that matter. Of course, in my mind nothing can compare to New Orleans in the Spring. The flowers, sun, music, festivals, and beautiful people mix about in a heavy stew of history and funky energy and the result in spectacular. We'll be there by Friday. You are welcome to come visit!
I'm writing and playing guitar every day in the RV. This is the absolute best way to travel down the road in America and observe America, 55 mph at a time.
Who needs a tour bus?
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