We pick up on the road to Dortmund. The drive was a long one; six hours. Me and Chris split the driving and planned a stop off to visit Eltz Castle on Brendan’s recommendation. Brendan is a huge fan of Castles, and having missed Neuschwanstein after Munich we needed to let him get his medieval fix. The drive to the castle cost us a good few hours but it was totally worth it.
The route took us off the motorways, deep into the heart of rural Western Germany and it was outstandingly beautiful. The sun was at it’s fiercest, the roads were quiet and wound gloriously through fields of corn and small villages. I romanticise about it now, I remember it feeling almost like a scene from a movie. To be brutally honest about it though we were three guys who’d been on tour for three weeks crammed into a VW Polo that was full to the brim with food and equipment. I was driving, so it was beautiful, but i don’t know if the other guys will look back as fondly.
We got to the castle and walked down a long forest path deep into a valley flanking the Elzbach river before discovering a gorgeous German castle perched on a 230 ft rock spur in the middle of the valley. We stopped for photos and took in the view, then reluctantly left to get back on the road, Dortmund was calling. Chris had another driving mare, Not quite as bad as the one that almost killed us heading out of Berlin but still fairly bad, turning sharply at the last second and not accounting for the heavy bags in the back which hit me pretty hard in the head. We arrived in Dortmund right on the last minute, doors were opening and people were arriving and we were still loading in. Somewhat embarrassed, we unloaded and set up.
Sarah, A girl i’d met at a show in Newcastle earlier in the year had made the trip with her sister from her hometown (45 mins or so away) so we all went for food before the show. The only place open and close enough to grab something quick from was a particularly nasty looking Turkish takeaway opposite the venue where Brendan and Chris ordered a kebab (with the help of Sarah’s German) and I got a pizza. We ate too fast and pretty much ran across the road to go straight on stage. The venue was tiny – it was a small vibey record store upstairs in what looked like an apartment block. The show was great. The room was full with around 20 people inside sat on the floor listening to your every word, laughing at every joke and clapping and stamping along to the big tunes. We shifted a few CDs and alternated sets, told stories and chatted to members of the audience.
We had a great night. Dortmund had been lovely but our day was far from over. The next day we were booked to play at Sofar Sounds in Paris; an 8 hour drive away. We’d figured out we simply wouldn’t have time to drive there tomorrow; look around Paris and make the show, so we’d reluctantly decided a few nights ago that the best option was to drive through the night. We said our goodbyes to Sarah and the venue owner who both said something along the lines of “I CANNOT believe you are driving to Paris now.” to which, Christopher Tavener iconically replied (at 11pm after already driving 6 hours that day.) “It’s ok. We’ll be there by 7.”
The next few hours driving to Paris were some of the hardest I think i’ve experienced behind the wheel of a car. Chris took the first stint and drove for 3 hours through Germany and into the Netherlands. My plan was to sleep while Chris was driving and then get us the rest of the way fresh. I can usually sleep great in cars. I actually find it hard as a passenger NOT to sleep. All tour (and all my life) i’ve been able to drift off without a problem or care in the world no matter how loud music was being played or whoever was talking; but for some reason, on this night, when it mattered; i couldn’t. I tried everything but sleep didn’t come and all too soon Chris had pulled in at a petrol station. It was 3am and my turn to drive.
The drive was a blur. I drove from 3am until 6am but in my memory it felt shorter, like driving from Manchester to Chester – a journey I do regularly. I can only remember parts but the parts I remember I remember very vividly. I feel like I can recall the whole journey but in actual fact I’ve pieced together the pieces I remember vividly and dramatically shortened the journey in my brain. I remember never feeling like sleeping, but just feeling that weird, ‘dull behind the eyes’ ill you feel if you try staying up all night. Our sat nav was set to avoid toll roads so it took us a bizarre route. It was an interesting drive though even though I could literally only see what was in my headlights. I remember crossing the border into France. I remember the roads instantly getting bumpier, going down to single lane traffic and drivers instantly becoming more erratic. We got stuck for a good 20 minutes behind some pretty slow moving heavy goods vehicles, we couldn’t overtake. We were in a right hand drive driving on the right, I couldn’t see round, Brendan was deep asleep and Chris had passed out straight after going in the back.
I drove for as long as I could, but finally pulled in at a rest area about 2 hours outside of Paris and decided we were going to face the last resort sleep option that we had joked about having to do all through every stage of planning this tour. A night in the Polo.
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