[This is another long one. TL;DR: we just got back from playing a festival in eastern Washington, and are going to be on stage again this Friday afternoon at the Port Townsend Wooden Boat Festival.]

So.

I hadn’t meant to leave y’all in Nome without at least giving a lead up to The Next Big Crazy Thing I’d Committed To. But here we are on the tail of that, running headlong into the Next Next Thing, and I never even told you what the thing in the middle was.

The reason I couldn’t hang out in Alaska longer was that three days after getting back to the farm, I was scheduled to load the car up and drive across the Cascades to the 30th annual Tumbleweed Acoustic Music Festival, in Richland, WA, with Devon and my partner in musical mischief, Emily Groff. Blowing the festival off was not an option, as Emily and I had gotten ourselves scheduled to be on stage for three (yes, three) different performances there over Labor Day weekend.

Attentive readers with better memories than mine may remember that I mentioned Tumbleweed last summer, when Emily and I were given a set, and a song I submitted was selected as a finalist in their songwriter contest. Well, that was so much fun that we applied to perform again this year, and recorded/submitted a song to the contest together.

Again, we were offered a set, and again – to my delight, my composition was selected as a finalist. Then the festival organizer wrote to me and said she had another open slot – would I like a second set? Well, I’m apparently just a guy who can’t say no.

So off we went.

Mercifully, unlike last year’s scorching mid-90’s weather, this year’s temperatures hovered in the low 70s, even dipping into what one might describe as “cool” by Sunday afternoon.

The festival’s been going for 30 years, so there’s a lot of history between long-time attendees, but even as a second-year participant, I was scooped up and welcomed as one of the regulars. Folks I’d fan-boy’ed at last year greeted me with hugs, and a couple of last year’s headliners made a point of promising me that they’d try to make it to see us on stage (and did!).

Last year, Emily and I leaned heavily into my maritime songs, and we planned to do that again in our original Sunday set. So I pulled out some of my quirkier tunes for the “extra” Saturday morning slot. Aside from stumbling right out of the gate (watch it on YouTube here), it felt great.

Well, mostly great – halfway through the first verse of my most risque tune (for the all-adult audience that was present), a family with two young teenage girls and a couple of 5-6 year olds came in to listen from the back row. I was so flustered that I kind of steamrolled through the whole rest of the song looking for an exit.

But I recovered, and when Emily came up to join me for the last two songs, things got kind of magical. We started with an old favorite of mine (“Remember how I mentioned that song about an existential crisis, and the crushing weight of the world? I’m so sorry…”). And then played something new that we’d never sung together before. And oh boy, did it work. By the second chorus, it sounded to me like pretty much everyone was singing along, and the video seems to bear that out.

With that over, we had a couple of hours to catch our breath before the contest finals, which I’ve described in the past as a “Folk Off”. For most contests, you submit your song and the judges decide on winners, who are then invited to perform. The Tumbleweed folks do it a little differently: they invite ten finalists, who take the main stage one after another, one song each, live, after which the judges decide their top choices.

No pressure.

For the second year in a row, I drew the first slot. Maddening – how will anyone remember the first song they heard after hearing nine more in rapid succession? But it also meant the pressure was off. And once Emily and I had delivered – as good a performance as I could have hoped for – we got to catch our breath and relax on the grass, listening to everyone else.

Well, not to be humble about it, but I knew I’d written a pretty good song, especially for this year’s theme (“Tumbleweed – 30 Years by the River”), and I think Em and I nailed it.

Then Arbielle took the stage. We became friends last year when I totally fan-boy’ed her after her set with fellow Portlander Katie Fitz, and cheered each other from afar when we found we’d both made it into this year’s finals. By the time she rolled into the second verse, everyone knew that the remaining competition was for second and third places. And when first-timer Rob Pratt took the stage late in the show, I found myself hoping I could hang on for third. I scooted backstage right after to good-naturedly curse him for writing such a damned good song, and we bonded immediately over our fondness for wordsmithing a musical story and G-sus4 chords.

I was grateful when, after all ten of us had left the stage, and after conferring with judges, Wes announced that the consensus was unanimous. I was gratified for Emily and me to take third place to Arbielle’s first and Rob’s second. And we delighted in realizing that, by quirk of schedule, we would all be taking the West Stage one after another on Sunday morning.

That evening? I know there were shanties in the lobby of the Hampton Inn at the south end of the park, and song circles going late into the night, but we were exhausted. D and I made it to the early part of the evening main stage concert to hear Arbielle take a victory lap reprising her winning song, but I don’t even remember getting back to the hotel and falling asleep.

Sunday was great fun. No pressure, and cooler weather (I even put on my fleece!). Rob opened the West Stage, followed by me and Em, followed by Arbielle, all attended by a slowly swelling crowd as the morning and afternoon passed. Emily and I played well, I think, to gratifying applause. I have to say “I think” because, in spite of setting the camera up just as I had done for Saturday’s set, carefully positioning and framing where we’d be standing, I took the stage without, um, ever having actually hit “record”.

photo credit: Devon Cohn

Then? Oh man, by then, all my adrenaline spent, I kind of flumped. Emily swung back to play three gorgeous solo songs at the afternoon open mic (“Okay that was the second saddest song I know. This is the saddest one…”). I’m sure I heard another performer or two after that, but I was done done done. I think we all were. Managed to get ourselves together for dinner, but none of us had the oompf to make it to the closing concert, or – for a real long shot – contra dance. Nope.

Headed for the figurative barn, dropped off to a muddled sleep and woke up bright and early to pack and make the five hour drive back home, dropping the fabulous Miss Emily at her place on the way.

Whew.

But we’re not done. For those of you who are local, Emily and I will be taking the stage again this Friday afternoon for a 3:00-3:45 set at the Port Townsend Wooden Boat Festival. The Maritime Room, on Point Hudson. As you might expect, we’ll be leaning hard into our nautical repertoire. We might might might even get brave enough to try a brand new one that I’ve never played out before.

Come on out and have a listen!