Summer Retrospective - Part IV

The summer season was now in full swing and the band headed north to Maxville, Ontario to compete at the North American Pipe Band Championship on August 2. This year Maxville truly demonstrated its status as a continental event, drawing pipe bands from across the United States and Canada and even a band from Mexico City, the St. Patrick's Battalion Pipe Band. Maxville is a grueling competition on the best of days. With twenty five bands competing in Grade 4 this year, the sheer number of competitors necessitated a qualifying round to establish the field of bands who would ultimately compete for the top prize. So, instead of one performance, a successful band must play twice, which of course allows for twice the opportunities for something to go wrong. One might also argue that it makes a win twice as sweet. In any case, Maxville means more playing and tough competition, as the Ontario piping scene is home to a number of very strong Grade 4 pipe bands. Little did we know, however, as the day began, that the pipe band competition would be the least of our worries!

The Grade 4 qualifier began fairly early, around 10:30 AM and we were among the first to play in our qualifying heat of thirteen bands. Remarkably, everyone, including the pipe major, managed to arrive at the field on time that morning and so the band was fairly settled and well-prepared for the first round. The exception might be Kennie Farrigan, however, whose chanter fell out of his pipes on the walk over to the final tuning area, much to his chagrin. His reed did not survive the fall. Rarely has hemp so quickly been applied to a chanter or a back-up reed so hastily selected. Kennie was back in rank just before the steward came to tell us we were on. The band fell into formation and marched off (apparently a bit too quickly for the drummers) to meet our destiny.

We came off the field feeling confident about the first run. The usual post-performance self-evaluation suggested no major mishaps. It would be at least an hour before we knew if the judges agreed with our assessment. With one run down, the band headed back to camp to refuel and await opening massed bands.

Massed bands was hot. The sun beat down on us and our black vests and glengarries drank in the rays. We simmered on the shadeless massed bands field while something like a hundred pipe bands slowly assembled. Occasionally, a cloud would pass overhead, offering momentary relief from the burn. I remember praying fervently for more clouds, so maybe it was my fault that clouds aplenty would soon roll our way.

The afternoon featured good news and bad news. The good news was that the band successfully qualified to play in the final. We were, in fact, the only American band in our grade to do so. So we were psyched about that. The bad news was that the storm of the century was about to collide with Maxville.