I left my heart in Montana

I can’t wait to get to Butte, Montana to sing for the locals the title track to my debut CD, Continental Divide.

I can’t remember which note or phrase started it, but I knew immediately when I began writing Continental Divide that it was the kind of song that would change everything. Sleepless in Edmonds, north of Seattle, in a cold and quiet basement guest room on October 24, 2009, I was whispering lyrics and brushing muffled chords with the skin of my thumb while the family slept.

In Continental Divide, my character sings to the geese on this beach. She feels stuck like the driftwood while she's is looking for polished glass and writing songs to the geese.

I placed my character into a waltz with the rhythm of gentle waves in a protected cove. I chose 4th of July beach on San Juan Island, where I had been walking a few days earlier with my mom. Though it is not my favorite beach on the island, it’s the one I’ve spent the most time at because initially it was the only one I knew how to get to! If you look carefully above the left end of the geese in the photo to the right, you can see what looks like a bald eagle—that’s my mom’s white hair and black Alaska Aces jacket. The little spot next to her is the precious ball of grandson. They were building sand castles. I had walked off towards Jakel’s Lagoon to mope. I had just arrived in Friday Harbor, two months late with only four songs recorded for a CD I had expected to already have in hand. San Juan Island, a place I had once called paradise, now seemed gray and drab compared to the adventures that had distracted me. There is not a pretty enough beach in the world to overcome the longing that was in my heart.

Once again the tide finds me
A character in my own song
I wrote down these words to remind me
Of everything that could go wrong

I tried to look for some polished glass
But this resort town’s been beachcombed all clean
I tried to shake off this feeling
By writing this song to the geese

As if I could fly across the continental divide
I could drive in 12 hours time
And be on the other side
Of the continental divide

It’s a beautiful fall in Friday Harbor
But I’m driftwood stuck on the beach
High and dry and longing
For everything that’s out of my reach

A couple weeks later I caught up with Cousin Erica whom I hadn’t seen in a long time. She asked how I was doing on our way to the beach. I suggested we play my new song. It would explain everything. We put the CD on and she listened intently. We both cried.

She said, “It makes me cry to know you feel this way right now!”

I said, “And I’m crying because I actually do feel this way right now.” I had recently absorbed a songwriting lesson from James McMurtry: tell it like it is.

I left my heart in Montana
Some 700 miles from the sea
On horseback out there roams a mountain man
In the saddle he daydreams of me

To him I’ll fly across the continental divide
Or maybe I’ll drive and be at his doorstep in 12 hours time
So my sweetheart can hold me while we watch the sunrise
‘Cause there’s a bigger sky out on his side
Of the continental divide

I left my heart in Montana some 700 miles from the sea. On horseback out there roams a mountain man. In the saddle he daydreams of me.

So there I was, writing this beautiful song in that basement guestroom, but unable to actually sing it and play it because everyone was sleeping. And it’s a passionate country song, with a crescendo intended for heartfelt singing and at times beating on the strings. I had never written anything quite like it before. How on earth was I going to hit those high notes? I was dying to hear what it really sounded like, and get a sense of whether I could even sing it. On the ferry ride from Anacortes back to Friday Harbor I found my chance. I warmed up my voice on some easier songs, and then I went for it. And it was magic. And I could sing it. In a long row of chairs nearby the side of a young man’s head was listening.

I’m gonna fly across the continental divide
For just one more mountain man’s kiss
Oh you know I’d drive a hundred thousand miles
So my sweetheart can hold me
We’ll watch the sunrise each day of our lives
‘Cause there’s a bigger sky out on his side
It’s a paradise out on his side
Of the continental divide

World's Most Scenic Tire Swing (Paradise Valley, Montana)

The young man who was the first to hear my song turned out to be named Britt too. I ran into him in Friday Harbor 6 months later and he recognized me, asking, “Did you ever play music on the ferry? Do you have a song that goes flyyyyy…? It’s been stuck in my head for months.” Turns out his dad is the long-time GM for my uncle’s business. It’s a small town. And coincidentally enough, I had been recently wondering if I was ever going to encounter that stranger on the ferry again. I was delighted when it happened so soon.

Never to miss an opportunity, I said, “Wait here, I’ll be right back.” I sprinted home and grabbed the camping guitar, ran back to meet him at Sunken Park to play him Continental Divide. “Britt, you are going to be amazed at how this whole thing worked has worked out for me. Look, it became the title track to my CD. Would you believe that you are the first person who ever heard it played? I recorded it that same night.”

When I got home that rainy October night, I recorded a quick video so I would have a record of the first draft. The video is so raw that it makes me blush.

On that rainy October night as the ferry was pulling in to Friday Harbor, a cell phone call warned me that we were about to become very ill. The cousin Canyon had shared a bunk bed with had just tested positive. Swine flu’s sore throat and congestion were about to take out my singing voice for weeks and I had just written my best song ever. Would I be able to record it before I got too sick? I put down a rough guitar track and stayed up until the wee hours recording vocals. Sure enough, swine flu slammed me. My fever hovered between 100-103 depending on how much Tylenol I was taking. Miserable chills and aches. Luckily I could still play passable guitar and was able to record it and bass while I was sick for almost two weeks.

Brian Hazard, the engineer who mixed and mastered my album via the web, also writes songs and plays “electronic indie piano pop” as Color Theory. I asked him to add his artistic touch to Continental Divide, and I adore his  piano solo and subtle background vocals on the chorus. Though I admit it stirred a strange feeling the first time I heard our voices blend on a mix he emailed me. It seemed oddly intimate to hear the man’s voice singing with mine, especially since we have not met. But it was just the perfect touch for the song.

I recorded the above video in April 2010. The painting behind me represents the heart of Continental Divide surprisingly well. I bought it for $1 at a thrift store in Four Corners, Montana, near where I left my heart. Despite it’s continental origin, the painting looks almost exactly like San Juan Island. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn it had been painted by someone who had been there. It is currently hanging in Cecil’s studio in Friday Harbor and will probably have to stay there while I’m on the road to make sure it doesn’t get damaged. I do want to find out who painted it so please contact me if you have any leads.

Please remember to download Continental Divide for free and help me spread the word in Montana! I’d like to keep having excuses to go back there. See if I can find my heart.

Please check the tour schedule to follow my progress across Montana. I hope this will be the start of something I can come back to year after year.

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