Mike Doussan

Days 18-20 Denver, Blackhawk, Arvada 

We were somewhere between Cedar Rapids and Goodland when I realized that in the hectic nature of our departure, I hadn’t changed the oil in the Subaru. We forgot a lot of shit. I generally get a little extra life out of the synthetic oil I use, but we were pushing it, and I knew it.  

Getting your oil changed without an appointment in Goodland, Kansas proved to be impossible. “We’ll get it changed in Denver. No big deal,” I told myself and my family. Well, get the oil changed in Denver is exactly what we did after we got a low oil alert on our dash in late afternoon, I-70 Denver traffic.  

Oddly enough, we would have hometown ties with the manager of the oil change shop we pulled into in Arvada.  We had a nice chat about life back home while the crew prepped our car to get back on the road.  We said our goodbyes with fresh oil in the pan and headed out for our next adventure.   

We arranged to pop up at Mountain Star Studio near Blackhawk, CO which is an hour west of Denver. The original plan was to stay a little closer at a rainbow trout farm in Pine, CO, but after reading some pretty shitty reviews and just a lingering bad feeling about the place, we opted to visit our friend Kip at the studio.  

After a quick pop up, we got ready to head out for our first show at Red Rocks. This was a bucket list venue for me, and when I saw Bobby was playing while we were in town, I had no choice but to pull the trigger. What an amazing venue, and to hear the music of the Grateful Dead in it for my first time there was something special. August was having a blast singing along and dancing, and I could not imagine a more perfect family experience. 

The next day was scheduled for me to get tattooed by one of my favorite tattoo artists, Ready Freddie. I met Freddie years ago at dba in New Orleans before drunkenly making a tattoo appointment with him for the following day. He was holding down a guest chair at Downtown Tattoos. I was stunned by his rendition of an old Sailor Jerry gypsy woman design that I liked, and the gamble of randomly agreeing to let a stranger tattoo me paid off. It quickly became my favorite tattoo, so needless to say, I was pretty excited to get back in his chair.  

The five hour session went by painlessly as we talked and laughed about our lives and families. It was awkward saying goodbye as I felt we could’ve continued to talk for hours, but after all, I was there to get a tattoo and he was finished giving it to me. The best part about this tattoo is that Maggie gifted it to me. She had been giving me gift cards for it over the last year.  

Thrilled with my new tattoo, Maggie, August, & I capped off the day with some delicious Indian food, a trip to the bookstore, and a stop at a dispensary before heading back to camp. August and I threw the baseball back at Mountain Star while Maggie watched, relaxed, in her camp chair. When it got too dark to see the ball, we decided it was too dark to keep our eyes open.  

What I failed to mention about our magical evening at Red Rocks is that when we were there for Bobby, we saw an advertisement that the Revivalists would be playing there on our third night in the area. We hit up a friend in the band, and after a couple of text messages, it was decided that we’d be going back to Red Rocks for our second show in three days.  

It’s impossible for me to express the feelings of love and joy that we shared with each other at these concerts at Red Rocks, but it’s important to understand that the energy here was like a catapult to a higher place, a place where only love, and laughter, and music exist.  

Our friend from the Revivalists brought us backstage after the concert to say hi to the band and give us a little tour of the facility before ending our night. At this point, the overstimulation is kicking in. We are riding high. Too high.  

More tales to come about a crawfish boil in Boulder, a crash in Carbondale, and meeting up with some good friends and playing some music in a box canyon.  

Until then, remember our friend Spencer Bohren, and be good to yourselves and each other.  

Peace, 

Mike

Doussans Be Tripping Blog Days 15-17 Iowa, Nebraska, Kansas 

It often boggles my mind the depth of connection we can make with others within a 48 hour window. I feel like we met long lost brother and sisters with the Gardner family on the hemp farm in Iowa, and I am already thinking about how to route through Rowley next year so we can spend some more time with each other. I found it difficult as we said our goodbyes, but there was no wiggle room in our schedule to squeeze out an extra day on the farm. The road is calling and we must answer.  

Farmlands. Miles and miles of farmlands. Unfortunately, what we learned about farming on the organic farm doesn’t hold true for many of the farms across America. Evolution in technology has bred laziness, and the continuous use of chemical fertilizers have rendered many farmlands infertile all while providing the consumer with poisoned produce. I highly recommend watching the documentary Kiss The Ground to learn more about the devastating effects of conventional farming and how we can repair our farmlands to aid in reversing the effects of global warming.  

Anyway, I digress. The destination for the evening was Pfanny’s Farm, about 40 miles northwest of Omaha. This was a hip camp find and was to serve as one night stay between Iowa and Kansas. I didn’t get into the details of whether or not it was an organic farm, but it was beautifully manicured and proved to be a perfect spot for a relaxing evening. We walked the trail that ran along the perimeter of the property, and we ended up just sitting on the edge of the corn plot just watching the leaves blow in the breeze for a while. As night fell, we enjoyed a game of Yahtzee in the common area. Gene and Julie, our hosts, joined us for conversation until it was time to retire for the evening.  

The next day was more of the same. Farmlands and more farmlands. There were more cattle farms on this drive. Cattle farms with no grass. Just cows in dirt fighting to get to the trough to eat lord knows what. I don’t want to turn the point of this blog into the importance of organic farming and grass fed beef, etc., but this stretch of highway has reiterated to me that I should continue to be picky about where my food comes from.  

We arrived in Goodland, Kansas Sunday afternoon to find our friends, the Guillot family, all together in their home. You see, the last time we passed through, only Chris and Hayes were out here. Lisa and Anna were still back in New Orleans. It was great to see them all together, and decided quickly that we would be staying with them in their home rather than camping nearby. We immediately picked up where we left off, conversed over a beautiful dinner, and I’m having trouble remembering what happened between dinner and bed, so it must’ve been good.  

We had a few errands to run on Monday, but kept it pretty relaxed as we had a show that night. While we ran around town taking care of our needs, The Guillot’s set up for the show which was meant to be a fundraiser for Chris’ wrestling team.  

Chris is the head wrestling coach for Northwest Tech, the local 2 year college that focuses on trades. Everything I’ve heard about this school is amazing, often setting their graduates up to go directly into interesting, well paying careers upon graduation. It also offers talented athletes an opportunity to be seen and move up to the next level. That’s where Chris excels. He sees potential in people, and he believes in them. Just this past year, he produced four All Americans and two National Champions.  

August and I arrived at the venue to set up while Maggie stayed behind to get ready. The venue is an old storefront on Main Street in downtown Goodland. Old tile, and glass, and wood brought me to a vision of what life might’ve looked like here in years past.  The interior reminded me of the Maple Leaf in that it was long and slender. The New Orleans themed art that adorned the walls sent me there as well. The eye bolts that came up from the old wooden floor suggested that the room was used for gymnastics of some sort at some time. I spoke with a woman after the show who told me she used to work in clothing retail in this very room. I felt that the past was alive in this building, and it literally was.  

The energy is good here. August and I soundchecked ourselves and prepared for the show. The room filled quickly and every seat was taken.  Still inspired by the response to our show in Iowa, we found our groove early and played well. August is becoming an important part of the show at a rapid rate. His youthful energy, pure smile, and ability to laugh off mistakes make him a joy to share the stage with. It’s interesting as well because none of this was rehearsed. We could’ve at least benefited from a few discussions about microphone etiquette. Nonetheless, our energy has been infectious, and it proved to be so once again in Goodland. The crowd stood in applause as our last notes rang out. 

After the show, we met new friends and said hello to others we had met last year. The vibe was strong and it proved to be a successful way to gather the community in support of such a good cause.  

I always feel so fulfilled leaving Goodland. It’s a combination of reconnecting with our old New Orleans neighbors and feeling so much love from the surrounding community. And also, I know my friend, Chris, is doing great things out there. He’s changing kids lives. And seeing the support he receives from his family is inspiring. I guess there’s a lot of positivity I associate with Goodland, Kansas.  

Well, until next year, Goodland. In the meantime, be good to yourselves and each other. 

Peace. 

Mike

Days 13 &14 Rowley, IA 

Yes, I know. The last post said “days 10-14,” but I lied. That was only days 10-12. Days 13 & 14 were on the Gardner Family Farm in Rowley, IA, and it’s quite interesting how we found ourselves there. 

Months ago I was scrolling Instagram and came across a post from my cousin, Ashley. The post was a picture of a few folks all smiling around a table. Ashley’s caption identified one of the smiling faces as her hippy, hemp-farming cousin, @iowahempgirl. I was intrigued and clicked on the tag to find out that @iowahempgirl’s name is Alissa and she owns a company that sells CBD products processed from the organic hemp grown on their 6th generation family farm.  

I located Cedar Rapids on the map, which is the nearest city to the farm, and realized we could route our tour though there. I messaged  Alissa, introducing myself and making the connection that we have a mutual cousin through marriage. I told her of my summer tour and that I would like to play on the farm. I received a quick response that simply stated, “Let’s do it.” 

Fast forward through all the details, and here we are on this beautiful farm. We have been on farms before, but there was a special energy surrounding this one. Later, I would come to find out that they only use vintage farm equipment that had been in the family for generations. They like to be as close to the dirt as possible, and new farming technology  has the ability create separation from the farmer and his farm. It’s a love that goes deeper than the dollars generated from their efforts. It’s a love of purity and simplicity. It’s a love for the past. It’s a love of farming.  

Alissa’s twelve year old son, Tristan, greeted us at the driveway and raced us up the unpaved road to show us where we could pop up. Alissa was soon to greet us as well as her husband, Chad, who had just taken over the farm about a year ago. Tristan and August would become inseparable for the next forty eight hours.  

After setting up, we drove over to the main house to cook dinner and visit with our newly acquainted friends. I grilled up the last of the crawfish boudin from Poche’s that I had, and that seemed to have broken the ice for an evening full of conversation and laughter around the fire. Chad’s mom and dad joined us, and Alissa made strawberry shortcake with berries freshly picked from the patch. We all packed it in around ten to rest up for the next day’s show.  

I quickly found out that Alissa does nothing half- assed and is a marketing queen.  After our conversation about playing the farm, she created a page named Iowa Farm Concerts and quickly gained almost a thousand followers. I originally thought she would just invite friends and family for the show, but as it turns out, she marketed through the local paper as well as at all of the markets where she sells her hemp products. She was nervous no one would show.  

We had well over a hundred people show up to the farm for the show. Some had driven from just down the road. Others had driven from over an hour away. The stage was a hay cart set at the rear of an old barn that faced a stocked pond with all of the guests setting up chairs between the two. Annie and Iris from The Savage Hearts opened up the show with some beautiful, old timey fiddle music. All of the butterflies Alissa had in her stomach prior to the downbeat were gone. It was clear the evening would be a success.  

With the sun setting directly in front of me over the pond, the crowd was tuned in and Maggie couldn’t get a break from the merch table. August and Tristen sat in on a few songs, and they wowed the crowd with their natural talent. The most moving part of the evening for me was how many people came up to me after the show to share the connection they experienced with the music. One girl with an exceptionality told me that my music made her believe in herself and feel comfortable just being herself. These are the moments that validate everything. Funny, I ended up laying in our camper later that evening and telling Maggie how I’m finally starting to gain complete confidence in what I do. I’m seeing that what I’m doing matters, and it feels good.  

I slept well that night, and I woke up refreshed and energized. We spent the last morning with our newly acquainted families eating fresh omelettes and tilling the soil to prep for the upcoming hemp season.  

Spencer Bohren imparted some wisdom on his son, Andre, who later passed on to me that if you don’t leave by 10, you won’t leave til noon. Well once again, that philosophy proved to have merit; but this time, I didn’t mind leaving at noon. Our next destination would be there when we got there, and we wanted to squeeze every last second we could with the Gardner family.  

I know I always say how grateful I am for these experiences, but I truly am. And without any cell or internet signal to look up synonyms and a half dead brain from the last two weeks preventing me from coming up with anything on my own, I’ll just repeat myself. I am grateful. 

Be good to yourselves and each other. 

Peace.  

Mike 

Days 10-14 Kansas City & Beyond 

I’m finally taking a breather to write. It’s 11:29pm and I’m still energized from tonight’s show on the hemp farm outside of Cedar Rapids. It’s been a great few days.  

We came into Kansas City Monday night front loaded with the sickest 3rd base line seats to the Royals game. The energy there was palpable as this was the first game back without any attendance restrictions from Covid. It felt great to be cheering on the Royals amongst their most loyal of fans.  

Joe West was 3rd base umpire, and he was continuing to celebrate his newly acquired league record for most games all time worked as an umpire.  He pointed August out from the field to toss him a ball that went foul just before third base. During the seventh inning stretch, I got Joe to sign the ball. 5,380 games. Legend.  

The Royals sent us home feeling victorious as our team for the evening dominated the Pirates 7-3. August was asleep before we arrived back at camp.  

The next day was action packed as we had plans to head back to the city to dig into world famous Arthur Bryant’s BBQ and Visit the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum. The burnt ends, pulled pork, and ribs served us well. I was also a fan of the baked beans, which have to be really good to impress me, and their wet, mayo based cole slaw. We were fat and happy.  

There is not enough to say about this museum. Carefully curated to take you on a well highlighted journey of the plight of the black man to be an equal part America’s Pastime, this museum brought me to tears by the end of my tour. From the early segregation, with the unwritten rule that black people were not allowed, the rule that few whites would wind up bucking, to the eventual celebration of their historical contributions to the game, the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum points out the obvious and unacceptable manner in which black people were and continue to be treated because of the color of their skin. I left feeling pride for those who fought through such difficulties to be eventually celebrated. THEY were the pioneers.  

To unwind from the heavy but eye opening museum experience, we got a coffee from a hip little trolley car cafe and headed for City Market. We came across an Italian deli that had imported mortadella, and though I was still stuffed from the BBQ, I managed to put down a half pound of mortadella as we walked through the market. After that, it was imperative that we find a public basketball court so Aug & I could get in a quick game of Horse followed by a little one on one. I needed to burn some calories.  

As if we hadn’t done enough already, our next stop was to union station to walk a few thousand more steps before driving up north to meet up my old buddy, Outlaw Jim. Jim and I have been music making friends for well over a decade and it was great to see how wonderful he and his wife and children are doing. Our families had dinner together at their saloon before heading over to their house to let the kids run around on their 40 acre plot. Make sure and look up Outlaw Jim if you’re into country music. He’s the real deal.  

I forget at which point we decided to stay at the campsite an extra day, but it was the best decision we could’ve made. The last two days had been non stop and to wake up and have to drive would’ve been a nightmare. We were in no real rush to get to Cedar Rapids as the show wasn’t until Friday, so a completely chill day at camp with no plans at all was in order.  

We had a fire going all day and cooked all three meals at camp, taking breaks to nap in hammocks, read books, throw the football, and play Yahtzee. At one point, we took a ride through the state park for a less than thrilling drive, but thrilling wasn’t what we were after that day.  

We all woke the next morning well rested for our drive to Cedar Rapids. The experiences of cheering on the Royals in their stadium for a big win, the action packed day of education, bbq, basketball, and visiting with friends we hadn’t seen in some time, and the ultimate chill day at camp made visiting the Kansas City area so worthwhile. It was nice to be able to just visit a town without having the focus of having to perform somewhere. These three days felt like vacation and we needed it.  

Stay tuned for the blog about the hemp farm. I’m still digesting it.  

Be good to yourselves and each other! 

Peace, 

Mike 

Days 9 Pawhuska, OK 

Our last day in Pawhuska was a full day at the races. We went into town early, but being Sunday, everything except the gas stations and dollar stores were closed. We explored the set of Killers of the Flower Moon, a movie based off the book that details the murders of the Osage and the birth of the FBI. Maggie picked up the book for us to read along our journey.  

We found a trail to hike along what I believed to be Bird Creek before heading back to the downs. We arrived just in time to get our chairs together, grab some food from the vendors, and set up our spot on the inside of the track near the starting line.  

The first set of races were the sheep races where parents wrangled feisty sheep with long, matted, woolen locks and then place their toddlers on the backs of the sheep in hopes that they hold on for dear life and make it to the finish line. Out of three heats, only one child out of probably fifteen managed to hold on for the entire race. Most were bucked from the backs of the sheep within seconds, toppling heels over head in the rain soaked mud of the track. Some got right up and dusted themselves off with smiles on their faces. Others, not so much. Needless to say, our jaws were dropped in amazement that this is a thing that exists in the world.  

The races to follow involved slightly older children racing Shetland ponies around barrels. Then came the legends. The legends are the relay racers that I’m sure 40-50 years ago were getting thrown onto the backs of unruly sheep by their parents. As the races went on, I lost track of the classifications, but that didn’t stop us from enjoying being immersed in this fascinating celebration of Native American culture. The excitement of the crowd cheering on their children and their tribes was infectious. We often found ourselves cheering for the relatives of those near us, but sometimes we just cheered for the prettiest horses.  

We had our friends Manon, who is of Osage heritage, Ryan and Kazumi over to our camp for dinner afterwards. Manon told us fascinating but depressing tales of the Osage, including her cliff notes account of the Osage murders over oil head rights, another instance of the white man pillaging communities to take what isn’t rightfully his.  

We went to sleep humbled and grateful for our experiences with our native brothers and sisters. While we may be on the opposite sides of our history, we share in the same love for our families and friends, the same grief over lost loved ones, the same celebration over our successes, and the same contemplation over our failures. After all, we’re all human.  

Be good to yourselves and each other. Recognize your history and learn from it so that you may leave tracks worthy of following.  

Peace 

Mike 

Days 9 Pawhuska, OK 

Our last day in Pawhuska was a full day at the races. We went into town early, but being Sunday, everything except the gas stations and dollar stores were closed. We explored the set of Killers of the Flower Moon, a movie based off the book that details the murders of the Osage and the birth of the FBI. Maggie picked up the book for us to read along our journey.  

We found a trail to hike along what I believed to be Bird Creek before heading back to the downs. We arrived just in time to get our chairs together, grab some food from the vendors, and set up our spot on the inside of the track near the starting line.  

The first set of races were the sheep races where parents wrangled feisty sheep with long, matted, woolen locks and then place their toddlers on the backs of the sheep in hopes that they hold on for dear life and make it to the finish line. Out of three heats, only one child out of probably fifteen managed to hold on for the entire race. Most were bucked from the backs of the sheep within seconds, toppling heels over head in the rain soaked mud of the track. Some got right up and dusted themselves off with smiles on their faces. Others, not so much. Needless to say, our jaws were dropped in amazement that this is a thing that exists in the world.  

The races to follow involved slightly older children racing Shetland ponies around barrels. Then came the legends. The legends are the relay racers that I’m sure 40-50 years ago were getting thrown onto the backs of unruly sheep by their parents. As the races went on, I lost track of the classifications, but that didn’t stop us from enjoying being immersed in this fascinating celebration of Native American culture. The excitement of the crowd cheering on their children and their tribes was infectious. We often found ourselves cheering for the relatives of those near us, but sometimes we just cheered for the prettiest horses.  

We had our friends Manon, who is of Osage heritage, Ryan and Kazumi over to our camp for dinner afterwards. Manon told us fascinating but depressing tales of the Osage, including her cliff notes account of the Osage murders over oil head rights, another instance of the white man pillaging communities to take what isn’t rightfully his.  

We went to sleep humbled and grateful for our experiences with our native brothers and sisters. While we may be on the opposite sides of our history, we share in the same love for our families and friends, the same grief over lost loved ones, the same celebration over our successes, and the same contemplation over our failures. After all, we’re all human.  

Be good to yourselves and each other. Recognize your history and learn from it so that you may leave tracks worthy of following.  

Peace 

Mike 

Days 7&8- Fayetteville >Tulsa / Tulsa> Pawhuska 

It’s currently Sunday morning on the Osage Downs in Pawhuska, Ok. I’m facing the sunrise with my back to the track. The horse stables are in my line of vision to the right and I can hear the horses and jockeys warming up behind me. Maggie and August are still asleep in our camper to my immediate left. A cold front pushed through with the storm that moved East a few days ago, and the dew looks like frost on certain patches of grass amidst dense patches of clover. There’s not much other movement here yet this morning, but the longer I sit here, the more awake the grounds are becoming. I’ve warmed up a left over sausage link to hold me over until Maggie and August wake up. I think I’ll whip up a crawfish boudin omelette with fresh mozzarella when they do. 

I’m inspired not so much to give a play by play of my experience of the last couple days, but to reflect on where I am right now. Our days have been so full of excitement and we have shared the majority of the first week with some of the people we love the most and their families. Our time with Beth’s family and their friends in Tulsa only served to further fill our hearts.  The setting for the show in their yard was perfect, and I think we are already planning to be back next year. Susan and Tom, if you are reading this, please know how special our short time together was to us. There nothing like being a thousand miles into a trip and feeling like family. 

Our timing to head north from Tulsa aligned us perfectly to cross paths with our friends, Manon and Ryan. Manon is of Osage heritage, and the Osage are hosting what is called an Indian Horse Relay in Pawhuska this weekend. Tribes from all over the country are here competing in the races and vending clothes, art, jewelry, and food. Everyone here seems to be Manon’s cousin, and no different than any other stop so far, we are greeted with open arms. 

The races were are like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Each relay consists of 4 jockeys and 12 horses and each race is three laps around the tracks. The racers try their best to be on the starting line for the horn, but there are no gates- just a chalk line to signify the starting line. At the end of each lap, the jockey jumps from the back of the horse he is racing and on to the back of another horse that is waiting for him at the start/finish line. They repeat the process for three laps.  It’s amazing when the jockey makes a smooth exchange, but as you can imagine, not every exchange is one for the books. 

The evenings are like many other family gatherings on a campground. Groups of people gathered around fires or grills or just in a circle of lawn chairs enjoying each other’s company. Ryan, August, & I played a few songs around Manon’s new Airstream for her family and friends before we hit the inevitable wall and had to get horizontal.  Everyone was grateful for the music and tipped August with cash, Gatorade, and chips.

What I love most about the road are the new experiences. The new friends. The new family. I can’t help but sit here and feel gratitude for the privilege to travel, the talent to entertain people and provide for my family along the way, and the kindness of all those we encounter that helps make all these new places feel like home. My eyes are open, my heart is full, and I can’t wait to see what today has in store for us.

In the words of the late Spencer Bohren, be good to yourselves and each other.

peace,

mike 

Day 5 Little Rock 

Today is a planned day to just chill and enjoy our friends on this amazing creek property. First, we ran down the road to the local produce market to procure some fresh veggies for dinner before picking up around the campsite and guest house. After a quick cleanup, we grabbed our chairs and headed out to the creek to watch world go by around us.   

W, Beth, Maggie, & I eventually set up our chairs just perfect to where the sun was at our backs while August became a master stone skipper. The water temperature was cool on our legs, but that sun was still scorching. After taking in the sun for a while, we scouted a “sandbar” further down creek, closer to where a gaggle of Canadian geese were gamboling, that was shaded by the cedar trees branching out over the water.  

We laughed and cursed as we tried to keep a certain Suzanne Vega song out of our heads while listening to a subpar 80’s playlist. At that point we figured the best remedy was just to put the entire Prince catalogue on shuffle. We were doing the perfect amount of nothing  and it was just what the doctor ordered. 

I returned to the guest house to prep dinner while maggie went up to nap and Beth and W  took the four wheeler across the creek to gather some fresh eggs from the chicken farm on the other side of the property. August joined me in the kitchen watching one of his favorite shows. His giggles made me smile as I cut and seasoned the veggies.  

It was nice to have a proper home cooked meal around a table with our friends, a ritual that we know will be few and far between on the next 45 days of our journey. We shared a dessert of dark chocolate and hazelnut butter before retiring back at camp. 

Day 6 Little Rock>Fayetteville  

This day was originally supposed to be a drive day to Tulsa. Plans changed when we learned that our friend, W, would be riding with us.  Being an Arkansas native, he had knowledge of a few adventures that were close enough to our projected route, and we were game. 

This is also where I feel I need to introduce Joe. I’m sure Joe has a last name, but being the man of mystery that he is, I kind of like just knowing him as Joe.  Joe lives in a log cabin tucked away on the Williams’ creek property with his wife and daughter.  Joe is a lawyer, a collector and racer of Porsches, an airplane pilot, and a ceramicist. I’m sure he has many other talents and hobbies, but most of all, he’s just an all around kind hearted individual that, along with his family, cares not only for the creek property, but also for W’s stepmom, Mickey. While I am completely intrigued by the existence of this well rounded human being, my intent for introducing him, is not about his character nor his accomplishments. This man had some damn fine food recommendations that fit right in with our new travel itinerary for the now two day trip to Tulsa.  

With W riding in the back seat with August, we left Beth at the creek just after 10am so she could get in a day of work.  Our first stop would be the first of Joe’s food recommendations, The Oark General Store in Ponca, which resides within the Ozark National Forest. Built in 1890, this place oozed history. With it’s weathered siding, it’s well worn, top nailed floor planks, and it’s it perfectly charred flat top cheeseburgers, the Oark General Store draws people from all over who are in search of backroad adventure.  

Our next stop would be the Lost Valley Trail where we would hike to Eden Falls. Only 30 plus miles from Oark, we drove an hour of unpaved mountain roads to get there, only passing one other car along the way. As fate would have it, we would arrive at the trailhead just as a church group caravan of 30 people or so pulled up. This would prove to only aggravate us briefly as our pace took us past them quickly.  

The trail was moderate, taking us up and down the rocky terrain along Clark Creek, a tributary to the Buffalo National River. A fork in the trail led us to an overlook of a beautiful waterfall that crashed into a deep pool where other hikers swam. We rested there for a minute while taking in its beauty, but our destination was yet to be realized. 

As we got closer and closer, we second guessed how far we would actually go. For one, we weren’t familiar with the trail and it wasn’t well marked towards the end, and two, the hike led us into a cave that got real skinny just before the payoff. Had I attempted this in January before I lost 30 pounds, I don’t think I would have made it.  

With the encouragement of some other hikers, we maneuvered the tight, jagged cave tunnels taking care not to slip on the wet rocks beneath us. Without our headlamps, we would be immersed in complete darkness. As we inched closer, the sound of falling water was music to our ears. We finally hit the end of the tunnel that opened up into a vast dome where the water fell majestically from above. I couldn’t help but feel like a Goonie at this point and I yelled, “Andi, you Goonie!” at the top of my lungs. Each of us took our time soaking in this experience. I certainly had never been on a cave hike such as this one.  

The next leg of our adventure on this day was supposed to include a stop in Eureka Springs to view the Thorncrown Chapel and have dinner; however, the ominous skies suggested we should head straight to Fayetteville. This proved to be a wise decision as to not add any unnecessary white knuckle driving to our day.  

After a brief drive through heavy downpour with contagious nerves emanating from the passenger seat, I pulled the rig into our destination in Fayetteville. Dinner was the last item on our agenda to check off before retiring for the day. The thunder and rain continued, lulling us to sleep in preparation for tomorrow’s drive to Tulsa.  

Until tomorrow, be good to yourselves and to each other. 

Peace, 

Mike

Day 3 Collierville>Little Rock 

There was no real rush for us to get out early as Little Rock is only a few hours away. We took our time getting in some yoga and coffee before breaking down camp. Visiting the Arcade Restaurant, the oldest diner in Memphis, was on the agenda. This restaurant is a visual time warp from the stainless steel trimmed bar to the electric neon signs outside. The menu is creative, the food was delicious, and I would go there again, preferably at a time when I wasn’t so worried about keeping the weight off.  We discussed our next move over breakfast and more coffee and decided Sun Records would be the next stop.  

Sun was great. Very different from Stax. More raw. More real. The studio is still in operation although the label has been sold twice over now. To stand in that studio, to touch the door handles...... This is special. The energy there was great, and of course we had to let August add to it by kicking a Zig inspired beat on the house drum kit that was used for U2’s Rattle and Hum with our tour guide, Mark, on upright bass in the room where Johnny Cash, Howlin’ Wolf, Elvis, BB King, and so many other greats recorded some of the greatest music of all time.  

As we walked back to the car, Aug’s excitement manifested itself into a sweet thank you to us for taking him there. I was personally just as excited, so to share in this experience with the family was something I’ll never forget.  

The ride to Little Rock wasn’t tough. We listened to a few Disgraceland podcasts on Jerry Lee Lewis, Bob Marley, and the Grateful Dead. Mind blown. I highly suggest this podcast to any music lover who wants to hear some crazy stories about your favorite rockers. 

We arrived mid afternoon to our destination and were greeted by our dear friends, Beth & W. The 40 acres that W’s stepmom lives on are absolutely gorgeous. There are trails cut for 4 wheelers throughout the property that take you up and down hills and across creeks.  The deer are plentiful and the Canadian geese playful.  You can hear the faint whisper of the creek rushing downstream from the guesthouse where W and Beth are staying. We set up camp across the orchard before joining our hosts for a delicious taco dinner. 

After dinner and some catching up, we made our way back to camp to get horizontal. It already become so easy to go to sleep so early and I’m not mad about it.  

Day 4 Little Rock (show day) 

While Beth worked remotely and Maggie ran a few personal errands, W gave August and I the complete tour of his childhood. We returned to the Creek House to meet back up with Maggie and Beth and prep for the show. It wasn’t long before W’s stepmom, Mickey, joined us along with his sister, a few cousins and friends of the family.  

The show went off without a hitch and we went well into the evening sharing stories and laughing with all in attendance. I was touched to hear how special the performance was to some as it was the first time since W’s dad had passed that there was a party at the creek.  

Once again, my heart is full as I lay with my family in our camper to rest up for the day to come. I’ve made a lot of bonehead decisions in my life, and I’m sure I’ll make more here shortly, but the decision to start incorporating my tours with family vacation is one of the best decisions we have ever made. The places we go and the people we meet and the music we play have led to a place of great contentment that I have never known before. I’m so glad to be back on the road and I can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings.  

Until then, be good to yourselves and each other.  

Peace, 

Mike 

Day 1 New Orleans, LA>Collierville, TN 

I find it odd that after a year that has felt like the longest year of our lives, it still feels like yesterday that we were touring across the country last summer trying to cautiously escape the confines of Covid. Well, here we are again ready to roll out in search of adventure and connection, and I must say that things didn’t start out as smoothly as we had hoped. Rain and other projects during the weeks leading up to our tour prevented me from popping up our camper until the day before our departure. I had a few things to do in preparation for a cross country trip. First on the list was greasing the hubs, followed by lubricating the lift cables, wench, and associated mechanisms, replacing the battery, and removing the interior sink- basic maintenance tasks that I should’ve started researching months ago. Everything was going as planned until I noticed a soft spot in the floor near the door. Upon further inspection, it was obvious that rain had been getting in around the door while the camper was stored in our backyard, ultimately rotting out the subfloor from one side of the threshold to the other. My initial thought was to do a quick plywood reinforcement, but I decided against it thinking about all the stubbed toes and splinters in our near future. Here’s to hoping the soft spots hold til the end of July.  

In true Doussan fashion, we waited until the absolute last minute to pack. With surprisingly little stress, we were packed and on the road by 10:30 am on Saturday. The drive was easy, most likely due to the excitement of our impending adventure. We pulled into our campground outside of Collierville just before 6pm. 

August-, our 9 year old son, and I returned to our “outside duties” getting Peggy-O (our pup up camper) leveled, plugged in and popped up as Maggie waited to perform her “inside duties.” It wasn’t long before I heard cries of disappointment coming from inside. Maggie had discovered that the water that had come in and rotted the floor had made its way back where we had our pillows and blankets stored and left everything wet and mildewed. I proceeded to run clothes lines made from parachute cord to hang everything to dry while Maggie deep cleaned the interior. 

Once we got all that situated, we fired up the griddle to grill up some sliced beets and ground turkey with sweet peppers. We served everything over a bed of hummus and enjoyed an absolutely delicious meal to kick off our trip. We ended the night with a campfire and a sweet guitar serenade from August.  

I must say that I’m impressed with both Maggie and myself for handling these unexpected curveballs in a manner that didn’t bring our spirits down. While we have a lot of work ahead of us with sealing the camper and the eventual floor repair/ renovation, our focus seems to be positive and aligned on the here and now.  

Day 2 Collierville, TN (Show day) 

We awoke before our 6 am alarm, as I figured we would, and stepped out to greet the new day. Maggie and I laid out our yoga mats for a few sun salutations while August slept in. August arose just  before I had eaten all the bacon that I had cooked for breakfast,  and he managed to score himself a few pieces before our morning hike.  

Our first hike of the trip was a moderate 3 mile hike through the woods of Meeman Shelby State Park just east of the Mississippi River. The goal is to get ourselves in hiking shape quickly as we have some 10 milers planned for later on in our journey. Averaging 30 minute miles, we returned to camp by 9:30 to shower and head to Memphis to explore the Stax Museum. 

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The Stax Museum was nothing short of amazing. With great videos, memorabilia, and educational plaques, we left inspired by not only the music that Stax created, but also the culture of equity that seemed to be ingrained within it’s walls. If you are a music lover and ever find yourself in Memphis, I highly recommend this stop. Bring some extra dough to buy some CDs or vinyl. I left with two rare Stax records that I can’t wait to find a turntable for!  

With time running out before the show tonight, we tried to stop at 3 different BBQ joints for lunch before settling on Tops. Central had a line wrapped around the corner, and Cozy Corner and Smoke City were closed. Tops didn’t disappoint and provided us with some quick bbq nourishment before heading into Collierville for the first gig of the tour. 

The first show is a house concert hosted by a wonderful family I know from my childhood. Guests gathered and excitedly caught up with each other as it was the first gathering for many of them in the aftermath of the pandemic. Everyone took their seats in the lawn chairs they arrived with and settled in for the show to start.   

This crowd is exactly what I love about house concerts. They were quiet when we played and clapped after songs as if they were listening and actually enjoyed them. One of the things I love most about these house shows is the intimacy that can be created between the musician and the listener. We were able to make some great connections with some great new friends through the music this evening, and reconnecting with the Demato Family was heartwarming. 

We made it back to camp as the sun was disappearing behind the trees. It didn’t take long for us to all climb into our bunks. I lay here grateful for the opportunity to do what we do. I feel so fulfilled already and we have 48 more days to go. Positivity in the face of adversity seems to be our driving force so far, so i think we’ll stick with it as we journey on to Little Rock for the second show of the tour along with a hang with some of our dearest friends.  

I’ve got Killer Whale’s “Ocean Blood” record on in the background as I wrap up this first blog post of #doussansbetripping2021. Follow that hashtag on FaceBook or Instagram to keep up with us on our 50 day tour! And don’t forget to check out www.mikedoussanmusic.com to follow along and check out the new tour merch that will be posted soon!  

In words of Spencer Bohren, “Be good to yourselves, and each other.” 

Peace

Mike