Jeff's tour journal
 

Hey kids, it’s been the longest month of my life. Ever been awake so long that your body forgets how to sleep? Do it in a van punk, and then come talk to me. After three major breakdowns and two multi-hour stall-outs, Cuff the Duke is back home.

Our adventures arrived with the re-arrival of winter in Deathmcsucksberg.... otherwise known as Calgary. Four feet of snow fell in 24 hours allowing us to experience near death highway driving conditions, frigid ditch pull outs starring various heroes known only as “captain kick-ass,” and harrowing emergency shelter sleeping. In the morning when our van wouldn’t start we almost wanted to give up. Almost. We dug the beast out and went across the street to the recently reopened (after storm that is), Canadian Tire to purchase a Space heater and a hundred feet of extension chord. Hours later the beast roared to life. Amazingly we got it running all by ourselves. Brief satisfactions are the only thing to really keep you sane in the wet and the cold. That and the veteran road warriors on your back screamin’, “THIS SHIT AIN’T FUCKALL KID!”, pushing themselves to Edmonton (the veterans being the Sadies). Whenever we’d go to complain they’d just smile and say that we didn’t know the half of it — not really in a cocky way, but more in a, “oh shit these dudes know what their talking about... we are scared,” sort of way. We, at that point, realized that the Sadies are truly insane — they made it to Edmonton and we didn’t. Buried 4 ft deep in Calgary was how we spent our day. Finally we escaped on the road to our next disaster — Kamaloops.

Ever blow your brakes kids? Ever blow your brakes in the mountains!? HAHAHHA now we are thinking lets die, shall we die? We didn’t, this world isn’t finished beating the crap out of us quite yet, so we got our smoking-brake-asses to a garage to the tune of about a grand. It’s was hard at this point to guage weather the tour was normal... we were thinking that, “yes, we are having a rough time”, Paul says this bullshit every once and awhile, “but I mean, every band goes through shit.” Wayne, and Brad, and Greg, and myself all agree and add to fiction fortification. Deluding yourself with lies is a great option in the face of disaster. On the road my ass.

Then there was a calm in the storm. It was a wonderful thing, “British Columbia.” Lush, green, breakdown free. We got to ride the ferry across to the Island and we got to play three amazing shows with the Sadies. Vancouver was nuts, we ended up hooking-up and staying with a great guy named Paul. Pauly, if you’re reading this, get your 2 foot ready man, I’m coming back. You see, Paul and his friends the Eastside Daggers are some pretty solid dudes, and they showed us a great time at the Hastings bowl. Good times. From Vancouver we headed back due East on the Coquaholla highway into the mountains. We had just got as far as Golden B.C., well actually about 10 km outside of Golden, 2000 m above sea level, on the edge of a cliff and POP! Hey guys guess what? Your on the edge of cliff, out of cell phone range, 2 and 1/2 hours from Calgary, and a 10 km walk over a mountain to golden. Death? Possibly death? Perhaps? No, no death. It was just the Power steering ceasing to exist in the van. Attempting to drive a loaded 1989 Ford Club Wagon with no power steering should be reserved only for the slightly insane, we opted to put the weight of our misadventures on our thumbs. We managed to hitch a ride back to Golden to call CAA. With them in tow the rest of us hitched a ride all the way to Calgary. Wayne, Brad, and the van went to Canmore to the nearest major garage. Greg, Paul, and myself were at Wayne’s aunt’s house in Calgary for what turned out to be 3 days. The garage in Canmore had part shipping problems and general malaise that would make an elk shit (and they do everywhere in Canmore), it was frustrating and really hard to deal with for all of us. We had to cancel the last three shows of the tour and it set us up fir a 35 hour drive straight to Toronto. The trip home being extended because we had to go through the U.S. to pick up our P2 work visas.

We were pretty much mentally and physically exhausted and we got on the road around 7 o’clock Calgary time on day 3 of being stranded. We made it to the border by noon the next day, on zero food and sleep. They stripped the van and ran the drug dogs through it. Bypassing my bag completely they went straight for Greg’s removing all the contents and studying everything very closely. Anyone who knows Greg realizes the ridiculousness of this. His straight-edgisms are legendary. We thought at that point we’d make Chicago by midnight and be home sometime around noon the next day. Perfect timing for a shower and nap before the show with Royal City.

Then it rained. No average rain. It rained harder than I’ve ever seen it rain before, and it didn’t stop for 5 hours. It flooded the engine in the van, and we barely made it off the highway into downtown Chicago before it completely died. Exhausted, we all decided to just sleep it off, a couple hours in the van sleeping then take off after the storm. No one said anything but we all knew that when we woke up in an hour or so the van probably wasn’t going to start. Then the van started leaking from every window. No one slept and we got very wet. When the rain finally let up it took a good hour to get the van in a position where it would idle without conking out. We were on our way out of Illinois and into Michigan.

The I-94 between Chicago and Detroit is a hard stretch to drive at the end of a tour. It seems in relative terms short. But as the last major drive, and in the states, it can be an exhausting prospect. This was our second time tackling this. The first being when we drove to Austin for SXSW. We cruised through western Michigan and drew closer to Ann-Arbour with every passing mile. It wasn’t until sometime around Jackson when the Transmission blew. We had the transmission rebuilt three weeks prior, so we could have a clear conscience leaving on tour. When you fix things for multiple thousands of dollars they aren’t supposed to blow up are they? I suppose they are, at least sometimes, and in our case it seems all the time. So there the Van sits dead and lonely in Jackson Michigan.

Now how do we get ourselves and our gear home for the show that night? To rent a van, or mini-van in America you have to be 25 years old. It’s an insurance policy thing. We are sitting there at a mere 22 years old a piece, fucking helpless. An ass load of begging and pleading later we arranged to have a 2002 4x4 dodge ram 4–door pickup. Enough to get us and the majority of our stuff home. The van was left behind to get the transmission redone, leaving us with the task of returning to wonderful Jackson Michigan to return said pickup and get said van on the Wednesday following the tour.

The drive ended up being an exhausting 49 hours straight. No sleep and little to no food we rolled into Lee’s Palace in Toronto at 8 o’clock. The show was really great, we played all right despite the exhaustion and it was great to see all our friends after such harrowing adventures. As for touring I think we got the short end of the stick this time around. I’m not complaining, I actually think of most of the situations now and laugh. The amazing thing to me is through it all we managed to keep such level heads. There were no breakdowns, no fights, and there are no hard feelings. The Sadies were really a big help, always pointing us in the right direction and always keeping the problems we were having in perspective — “hey you could be in a Missouri jail!” Yes, I suppose it would be a lot worse to be in a Missouri jail. They’re really great guys who work their asses off to do what they do. Hopefully it won’t be the last time we hit the stage together. I have a strong feeling it won’t.

Last night there was a Three Gut Label meeting. Everyone was there except for Brad. We figured he had forgotten, or it wasn’t a priority for him. Brad is one of those people who you just need to let him do it all his way. It really is better that way for Brad. He has always known what is best for him, and with that he tracked us down after the meeting and informed us he was leaving the band. None of us were overly shocked that he wasn’t happy with his current situation. We could all sense it for a long time, and after going through the shit we had in the past month, I think it all just came crashing down. So with that, Bradley Fudge is officially leaving Cuff the Duke. It’s been a great three years and a lifetime together. We all grew up together and it’s going to be a huge adjustment for all of us. But time heals all wounds, and we hope Brad the best in the future at whatever he is doing. He will always be a part of the Cuff the Duke family. And he’s one of the funniest, craziest, most creative people I have ever known.

So it’s been a hellish month. I don’t fully realize the implications of everything that has happened yet, there is a lot of sorting out to do, but in the meantime we do have a bunch of shows we are still going to be playing. Brad will still be behind the skins until we can find someone to continue on with on a permanent basis, if anyone is feeling cravings of a lifetime on the road and is a phenomenal drummer, don’t be afraid to e-mail us. It’s probably best for everything considering, it just feels weird. Change is never easy, especially drastic changes in areas you’ve never dealt with change. We will survive an be stronger for it, I suppose — as is the same feeling towards touring. We survived the worst, I doubt it can get much worse that what we’ve been through. Typing this I’ve been home now for 3 days and I still have had little to no sleep. My body seems to be rejecting the idea of rest every time I propose it. Sometimes you just have to breathe I suppose. Just keep on breathing.

Jeffery “Rumlove” Peers.

antigreg : other content : the albatross did follow...

1. “The albatross did follow...”
2. Jeff's tour journal
3. Twenty-two pictures with captions
4. Tour schedule