Day 6: Portland, OR
Welcome
Yesterday we performed in Portland in the Pioneer Courthouse Square.
I began my day with a lurching few steps from the dormitory into the main lounge and then brushed my teeth with legs braced to withstand the motion of our moving vehicle. We were in Portland’s Old Town, on the west bank of the Willamette River, and Mr Bus was manoeuvring us into a carpark and doing a fine job of reversing the trailer. Out the windows I could see tired tarmac bordered by chain link fences and beyond that were a busy set of train tracks that were regularly announced by interjections from the loud airhorns of passing engines.
When we were stationary, I began putting together a breakfast from the fruit bowl - nectarine, plum, kiwi fruit, blueberries, and raspberries, topped with Greek Yoghurt and Trader Joe’s 50% Less Salt, Salted and Roasted Almonds. I borrowed Tristan’s beautiful plastic serving ware to plate this dish and then washed it straight afterwards.
I headed out for a run, taking a taxi to the nearby Marquam Nature Park which promised excellent hiking and running opportunities, an escape from city life, and forested scenic views. This description was no joke. As soon as I left the car I was swallowed up by the forest, a high, dense canopy of mature trees and a floor richly carpeted in ferns, shrubs, and splintered branches and logs. The trails were well maintained and fun to run on, and the beauty of the trees and the foliage was beyond compare. I made it up to Council Crest Park where I finally emerged from the tree cover and found a hilltop, even catching a small glimpse of the city of Portland below.
Tristan spent his free time in the pursuit of dreams, chasing drums and cymbals and other things that sound nice. He visited the Revival Drum Shop, a famous destination for the lovers of old and collectible items of the drum world where he hoped to find something to fill an empty spot in his cymbal case. I love watching Tristan spend money and I was gutted when he came back empty handed save for a new bass drum beater head (the white circle on the back of the bass drum).
Photo not submitted.
In the afternoon we arrived at Pioneer Courthouse Square, a public space that lies in downtown Portland, its terracotta bricks and tiles occupying an entire city block. The stage had been built at one end of the square and with the sun powerfully bearing in from between gaps in the skyscrapers the stagehands had taken to distributing foil blankets to protect the delicate musical electronic equipment. Our green room was a tent right behind the stage, thoroughly airconditioned, and outfitted with sopping wet rugs that dampened our backpacks before anyone realised.
The afternoon passed by and setup and soundcheck were achieved. We headed out to play at 7pm and found a perfect Portland evening hanging over the square, the space now filled with several thousand smiling faces eager for the sounds of indie rock music. Fifteen stories above us several pairs of legs dangled from an apartment building balcony, arguably the best seats in the house, but terrifying to look at from the ground. I tried not to look up and just focused on playing the bass and watching the trams which clanged past noisily at regular intervals. We played well, though, and the audience were warm and appreciative, helping us to celebrate the second day of Jonathan Pearce’s birthday, the American date. When we came off stage there was a cake waiting in the green room from the show organisers and we sang for Jonathan and celebrated him with gusto.
Our gear needed to make its way back to the bus and while Alvvays serenaded the crowd with their dulcet Canadian voices we slowly packed down and then loaded everything into a pair of vans for the trip back to the bus. It was quite an early night once everything was home and buttoned up and we made the most of it by screening a movie on the TV of the main lounge, the iconic 1994 political thriller Clear and Present Danger, starring Harrison Ford and Willem Dafoe. It was a thrilling watch. A tale of intrigue and betrayal, and not a small amount of deceit. Afterwards climbed into our bunks to rest as Mr Bus continued on our journey north.
When BB King's drummer turned up to check out which band was arriving in town.
