But what a day, too. Michelle and I went to a cave....oddly, not the one down the highway from us, Cueva del Gato.....but, Cueva de la Pileta, several kilometers away up a windy road. We had another GPS issue, the directions not accurate, but Michelle spied cars parked in an area some ways off the main road. Upon driving back, we found it. That was par for the course during the southern Spain stay - GPS was many times not accurate.
But the cave was not only a nice respite from the heat....sort of like being in a cool refrigerator for an hour plus....the cave had many paintings dating back, well, a long time. Michelle was quite stoked by it all; I was very impressed, too. And we weren't in the sun to absorb some culture. Since I had to have energy to play, this was important.
Later, it was off to Ronda, which is the largest town we were playing in for the festival. As the guys had their passenger van to park, I assumed I was going to have to find our own parking, and I chose a lot several blocks away. We had already driven to the site of the later performance, so I had some bearings down for a change. From the car, I had to bring my cymbals, stick bag, and kick pedal, and off we went. About halfway to the playing area, I thought I'd better message my bandmates to say I was on my way, etc., although there was plenty of time. Communication is good. So I set everything down at the entrance to a small park near an ice cream stand and wrote and sent a message. We continued on to the stage, running into Jeff and old friend Lonnie Layman along the way. This was the site before anything started.
Wow! But anyway, we hustled down the steps, got to the backstage area, and as I dropped my cymbals and stick bag, I thought.....where's my kick pedal? For a minute, I thought maybe Jeff or Lonnie might have taken it from me when we met up with them, but I feared the worst. Ol' Forgetful might have left the pedal where I sent that earlier message from! So I hustled back up went back down the road toward that park.....and there it was. My kick pedal sitting right where'd I left it. It did sort of blend in with the iron gate behind it, so it must not have drawn any attention. Or simply, no one cared much. Anyway, I had my kick pedal! And breathed a huge sigh of relief!
So, we took a look around the town:
It's purty. So's Michelle.
The line-up at this show was similar to the one on Thursday night, except there was an addition of Brian Ashley Jones (alt-country, I'd say), and another act before him who completely escapes my mind. So we were third this night, and man, what a night. We tore the roof (if there'd been one) off the place, and by the end, we most definitely had the crowd with us.
A moment to remember, for sure! Michelle shot that, but I had forgotten to turn the camera audio attenuator on before handing her the camera, hence the distorted audio. That camera normally captures pretty good audio.
The town of Ronda is pretty interesting in its own right. Orson Welles had an affinity for it, and his ashes were scattered there. There's also a monument to Ernest Hemingway there, but I forget the connection.
We went and got our food (I hadn't mentioned that we had meal and drink tickets each night). We stayed through Jake's band and Maf again....they were their always stellar selves. And then it was the not-too-long hustle back to our parking lot and back to our country digs.
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