Through the Colville Res in the dark fog and across the Columbia on the ferry before dawn, switchbacking up to the dryland plain above, the light pink and blue, a lone coyote at a dead run picked out white gold by the first sun, and we the only things moving on the planar earth. Four hours without a gas station or cafe, south through the vast table land. Agribusiness wheat, fruit, potatoes. Hulking machines, a few battered pickups, no humans. A small highway and the flat world shearing away on both sides. We’d risen early to make Walla Walla by ten, fixed weak coffee in the hotel room in two red enamelware camp cups purchased the day prior and expressly for that purpose, there being a maker but no paper cups in the room. We drove five and half hours and made early load-in precisely on time, only to find not another soul there. We sat blinking in a vineyard, and saw no one for nearly two hours.

Eventually the crew showed up, then the staff, and we played an outdoor show in the middle of the afternoon, guzzling wine and hors d'oeuvres at the break, loading out in the dusty late sun, and following hand-written directions to a house set aside for us for the night. The directions were vague but we found the place, let ourselves in the open front door and walked around trying to sort out which rooms they meant to us to have. I opened the bathroom vanity to rows of prescription medicines, surname and given name, and realized that Billy and I were in the home of strangers, but not the right strangers.

Over a steak dinner on the street that night, downtown at a French place with white tablecloths and heavy silver, Billy told me that in one of his early bands, maybe Chicken Licken and the Pot Pies, they had played a ski town up north and the promoter had invited them to stay in an empty vacation rental. They arrived in the dark to find a kind of sprawling ersatz chalet, generously appointed, and thoroughly stocked with beer and food. They settled in and did what bands do best, drinking nearly all of the beer and nipping into the bar as well, before they wandered off to find beds. In the morning they went back to the bar to break down their rig and load out, and they met the promoter, who asked them why they had never showed up at the house.

MONTANA - In November the high plains leg of the Fall Tour starts at the Stapleton Gallery in Billings, MT. (11/16), as part of 'Move the Needle,' a collaboration between visual artists and musicians that re-imagines the gallery as a record store and concert venue, and musicians as people who actually get paid. I contributed a song called Crown of Smoke to the project (an unreleased full band track from the Blood Brothers sessions) and Jennifer Eli French has created an album cover reacting to the song. Both the limited edition art and the CD/vinyl Move the Needle compilation album will be available at the gallery during three in-the-round sets at the gallery that night, featuring a diverse roster of performers including Laurie Sargent, Audrey Hall, Grant Allen Jones, and many others. Pre-order the album, here.

WYOMING - From Billings we'll head south to play the Brinton Museum in the foothills of the Big Horns south of Sheridan, Wyoming (11/17). A beautiful modern museum green-built on a historic ranch, the Brinton houses a permanent collection of western and plains Indian art, has 620 acres of protected bird habitat, and a farm-to-table restaurant. Get some tickets, and make your dinner reservations. This job is tough occasionally - perhaps you specify double rooms but they instead book double beds, and you spend the last night of a long European tour as bedfellow to the electric guitar player - but sometimes it's hard to beat. This is the second thing.

COLORADO - From Wyoming we'll continue south to Colorado to play the La Veta Mercantile in La Veta (11/19), Lulu’s Downstairs in Manitou Springs (11/20), the Magic Rat in Fort Collins (11/21), and The Soiled Dove Underground in Denver (11/22). Our old friend John Statz - whose 2015 album Tulsa I produced, and which Billy and I both played on - opens Denver and Manitou Springs. Somehow we're sticking to the front range this time, but it wouldn't hurt our feelings if you made the drive over the pass. Bring a piece of mail as evidence of your west slope address, and we'll buy you a drink.

WISCONSIN - In December I'll be home in the Midwest briefly, closing out the year at Cafe Carpe with Peter Mulvey and Pieta Brown for an in-the-round show (12/13). Dad took me to see Bill Camplin at the Carpe in the late 80's, the first time I ever saw live music played in a small room by someone I never heard of, essentially the proposition which has governed my adult life. Pieta just released a new record in September, called Freeway, and it's aces. Get your tickets for this show soon, it will sell out fast.

IRELAND - In late January, we'll tour the Republic with our friend Ry Cavanaugh (Session Americana) opening and supporting his forthcoming solo album. I've kept my starry-eyed love of Ireland through many tours there, though I've rarely been back in the decade since my daughter was born. Billy, who's played everywhere and met everyone, and though his name is Billy Conway and he's as Irish by blood, habit, and temperament as anyone I ever met, has somehow never been there. We'll set all of this to rights, and play a week of shows over ten days, booked as now at the Tea Room Sessions in Tipperary (1/24), Wexford Arts in Wexford (1/25), Levi's Corner House in Ballydehob (1/26), Mick Murphy's in Ballymore Eustace (1/27), Monroe's in Galway (1/30), the DC Club in Dublin (1/31). More about that later.

In the meantime, maybe keep your doors locked.