©Sharon Mercer 2000, all rights reserved.

Friday, August 11, 2000

I came back to myself around 12:40 A.M. My eyesight was fine, and the pain was manageable, so I took some aspirin, put the last few items in the car, turned off the lights and locked the house. Off to Betsy’s!

When I arrived at Lake James, Betsy, bless her, had a pot of coffee on. We each had a cup, stuffed her gear into the back of the car, took one final potty stop and were officially on our way a bit after 2.

The drive to Detroit was fairly uneventful, although I think Michigan should do something about the number of skunks killed along the highway. PHEEEW!! Stink-O! I think we passed at least four of the suckers! (We get them in Indiana too, but not so many.)

We reached the bridge to Canada around 6:30 EDT and breezed right through---no line or anything. We stopped for coffee and bagels at a Tim Horton’s in Windsor, and switched drivers. Betsy made an interesting discovery. At first it appeared that my car didn’t have the metric translation on the speedometer, but later we realized that the numbers are there---they just aren’t illuminated, so you can’t read them at night. This was a problem in the dark, but dawn was not far off.

As we drove into the sunrise, we ogled the countryside and decided that Ontario looked pretty much like Indiana---mostly flat, with farms. The biggest difference was the metric signs, which in my too-tired state really confused me! I was only too happy to shut my eyes and let Betsy deal with it all.

We arrived in the town of Fergus a bit before 9 A.M. local time, and stopped at McDonald’s to catch a quick meal before setting up camp. As I had not yet been able to find an ATM and get Canadian currency, and Betsy had only a small amount of Canadian funds with her, we paid for breakfast in USD. This wasn’t a problem, as the cash registers have a special function to do the exchange rate and all, but the exchange was rather startling to the poor gal who was our clerk. I could understand her confusion---I gave her $20 USD and the computer told her to give me better than $22 CDN in change! Surprise! Welcome to Canada!

We pulled up to the registration booth at the festival site around 9:30, got our paperwork handled and directions to our space. We drove in across a large grassy field, mostly empty, that was to be the parking area. It had pylons marking a “road.” It was beautiful lush grass, but I knew that would change before the weekend was over.

At last, there was the festival area. WOW!!! I never saw so many RVs in one place before. Most sites I have camped are skewed toward tenters, but not this time around. The spaces were all set up for the urban camper and we were surrounded by top-of-the-line RVs---the kind that probably cost more than my house.

Our space was roughly 20’ x 40’, and the slots to either side of us were not yet occupied, so we had plenty of room to unload the car and pitch camp. We were in the back row of camping spaces, butted up against the parking lot fence. The day was breezy and pleasant, with fast-moving puffy grey clouds and a bright blue sky. The temperature was somewhere in the upper 70s or low 80s I’d guess, and humidity was low.

By noon, we were putting the final touches on our campsite, hanging banners and draperies and looking for the water spigot to fill our bottles. An elderly couple in a luxurious RV (the kind that looks like a bus) pulled into the slot to our right and said hello. As we admired their vehicle, they joked about having “two foot-itis”---how they had begun as tenters, but each time they replaced their gear they went 2 feet bigger and a little more deluxe. They were very sweet.

After getting water, we sat back in our chairs to relax and catch our breath. Next thing we knew there was a van pulling up in the parking area just outside the campground and another one sliding into the slot to our right. These folks were roughly our age and although no motorcycles were in evidence, my initial impression was “bikers.”

They were a hoot. We laughed and joked with them as they jockeyed the vans back and forth, trying to place them “just so” while the women made disparaging remarks and the men razzed each other about forgetting important camping items. (Like cold beer.) In addition to the vans they put up a tent and stretched a tarp overall. It was a snug little set up when they were done.

They told us that they had been attending the Fergus Games for years. Traditionally, they leave their children with relatives or friends so that they can come to Fergus, attend the events, and drink beer. LOTS of beer. They must have unloaded 3 cases of beer or more. Someone even managed to find a cooler with cold beer, that had not been forgotten after all, so all was well with the world.

By 1:30 the physical labor of erecting the camp and lack of sleep was starting to catch up with me. Betsy too, I think, since we decided to try to take a quick nap before DG’s first appearance at 4:30.

The tent was pleasantly cool, and just lying down and closing my eyes for a bit felt lovely. I couldn’t sleep though. I could hear the neighbors laughing and talking, cars and trucks and busses rumbling by in the parking field, the sound of bagpipes from the camps around us, and there was that underlying energy---that thread of expectancy that happens when many folks are keyed to an event.

After an hour I gave up on sleep. Betsy had surrendered a half hour earlier, so we took a quick walkabout to locate the showers and washrooms, figure out where DG was going to be, and generally check out the grounds.

The festival had not yet officially started. The vendors were still unpacking their wares and organizing displays, vehicles were coming and going, and several folks were wandering around much as Betsy and I were. Already there were a few kilt-clad lads and lassies ambling about, although most were in shorts or jeans. The event fields were marked out in tape or fencing, and bleachers were erected near the largest ones. One thing we discovered was that our campsite was very close to the pipers’ areas, and most of the campers around us were competitors in the dance and musical events. It was a good thing that Betsy and I are both fond of the pipes!

The afternoon slipped away and by the time we wandered back to camp, it was time for the first book signing. Not wishing to seem pushy, nor willing to lug all 6 of the hardcover books I had brought from home clear across the grounds, I packed up my The Outlandish Companion (thanks Nancy!), Drums of Autumn, and my sister’s The Outlandish Companion to be signed. (These are all first editions-- my others are HC book club editions.)

The day had warmed, and we still had not had time to hit the showers. We had been awake for nearly 36 hours straight and were kind of strung out. Excitement ran in little waves over our skin though---we were going to meet Herself! We walked past the rows of carnival food (I looked for octopus on a stick, but I couldn’t find any) past the information booth, the Official Fergus Souvenirs booth,the beer tent, a small concert stage, more vendors and the stepdance competition ring. To the west of the road were the clan tents.

The clan area was very cheerful, all in green and white. Little green and white striped pavilions with Scots surnames proudly emblazoned across them, were pitched in a ring arcing around either side of a very large tent, also striped in green and white, where lectures and concerts would take place. To the right of the event tent was a small white and grey pavilion with tables of books. Seated at the empty front table was a beautiful dark haired woman with flashing dark eyes, broad high cheekbones, and a smile like the sun coming out from behind the clouds.

Betsy and I sort of froze just inside the perimeter of the clan area and stared. It was Diana, wearing a gaily colored scarf and these fabulous turquoise earrings! She was smiling and nodding, There were only a few folks hovering at the table---maybe 7 at the most.

Now, I am supposedly of above average intelligence, and while I am not quite sure how it happened, I think I instantly dropped 40 IQ points or more. I suddenly got tongue-tied and dweeby. ME!! The professional chatterbox! I babbled. I did! It was soooo embarrassing. I behaved like such a...a...a ...FAN!! I’ve met other famous people and this didn’t happen, so I can’t explain it. Lack of sleep simply isn’t enough of an excuse. I really felt like I should grovel and wail, “We’re not worthy!” DG, bless her, just smiled and nodded. I suppose she must be used to the effect by now. It probably happens a lot.

Somehow I managed to communicate and she signed the books I had. My sister had asked me to buy one and have it signed if they were available, so I bought another HC of Outlander and had that signed as well. I walked away from the table with four books in my bag and stars glowing in my eyes, thinking how could the day possibly improve? and saw.....HOSERS!!!

We met Ron, Janice, Elizabeth G, Katiscoch, Leslie, and Keira and a few other hosers----oh the names are already drifting away! And we were invited off to Cactus Jack’s for supper. Since Betsy and I had not yet slept and it had been a busy day, we told the others we were going to shower first to wake ourselves up and that we would meet them there.

The folks running the book stall had told us there was an ATM on site, so our first stop was the bank machine. Armed at last with Canadian cash, I was ready to shower and get some food.

The showers revived us a lot (no lines at this hour!) and we took a few moments to get the camp ready for nightfall. I filled the lanterns and tried to open the coffee. See, here I am, Madame Efficiency. I had brought a new can of coffee with us, and trying to plan ahead, decided we should open it now rather than wait to do it in the morning when we were half asleep and in serious caffeine withdrawal. Logical, right? Well, I had brought this can opener with me that I found in a drawer at home---not my regular opener, this one packs very small. Yeah, right! We had a few moments of silliness and exasperation as we tried to figure out how this “camping” can-opener I bought worked. (it doesn’t!) The biker-neighbors even had a go at it. But in the end we borrowed an opener from the neighbors across the road.

We got to Cactus Jack’s around 7. The place was pleasantly rustic, if not overly large. But we couldn’t find the hosers! We walked through the restaurant twice, but didn’t see Ron or any of the others we had met, so we just got a table and ordered dinner. We figured our shower time must have taken too long and we’d missed the others, and it had been a long time since breakfast at Mickey-D’s! (Remember, too, we hadn’t slept, so our brains were a bit less than sharp.)

Our food had barely been served (fabulous French onion soup BTW) when Ron walked in. Surprisingly, the folks two tables down from us loudly called, “Hi Ron! Good to see you!” just as we said the same! It was Merc and her DH (Dan) and DD (Hannah); ValerieL, and Laird JP! We were practically sitting next to them and didn’t know it. (LOL T-shirts look pretty non-distinct from the side.) Introductions were hastily made and seating adjusted.

As the evening wore on, more and more hosers arrived and we sort of took over one whole half of the restaurant. Our poor serving lass was a bit stricken, I think, as it was only her 4th day on the job. Eventually we had a group that included Elizabeth G and her DH (Ross), JaniceM, Keira, Merc, Hannah, and Dan, Lady Mich and her DH, Lori(Lady Steele), Colly, Laird JP, ValerieL, Ron, Leslie, BetsyE, and me! Have I forgotten anyone? Probably, but the food was wonderful, the conversation great, and it was a marvelous evening!

Some of the conversational highlights included the story of JP’s birthday pillow (a soft sculpture piece I made for him) and the great Luau Birthday Bombing; the signing of both Val’s and Janice’s copies of Cross Stitch (great idea, BTW) by each of the hosers present, Lady Mich’s piccies of Scotland, JP’s deer adventure, Merc and Dan’s Niagara experience and general get-acquainted stuff. It was a blast!! At the end of the evening, JP and I posed for piccies with his pillow at the rear of his car which has vanity plates that say “Laird JP.” Is that hosed, or what???

Betsy and I returned to camp around 10:30. The Tattoo was just ending and the glorious sounds of a great many bagpipes in harmony wafted through the night air. The bleachers were filled with spectators holding up candles in variously-colored cups that glowed vibrantly. It was quite stirring, and made me almost wish we had stayed for the show rather than gone to party hearty with the hosers.

Since it was such a fine evening we decided to check out the beer tent for a nightcap. We passed the main field just as the Tattoo ended and found ourselves engulfed in the departing crowd, many of whom seemed to have similar ideas about the beer tent. It was a mob scene. We elbowed our way to the bar though and each got a scotch and beer as a band began to play.

Looking at the stage, I was quite impressed. These were FINE looking men! And they played a very intriguing brand of Celtic rock with electric guitars, fiddle, and bagpipes!! The lead singer was fashion-model pretty and had a lovely voice, clear as sunlight through honey. It was GREAT!! And they danced, too! (Did I mention they looked gorgeous??) Who were they? We asked around and came to learn that they were none other than Seven Nations! Lucky us! We had heard of them, but had never heard them play before. These guys ROCK! WooHOOOO!!!

Unfortunately, the 2 drinks on top of our meal pretty much put a period to the day. We had been awake and very active for over 40 hours straight, and we were very punchy. It was time for bed, so we were able to stay for only a few songs before having to toddle off home.



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