Aengus Finnan’s musical journey will end in mid-September on Vancouver Island. 

By Nick Krewen

Special to the Star

As our country celebrates its 157th birthday, July 1 will find Aengus Finnan in the midst of a nation-hugging project of his own, one he calls “The Great Canadian Song Cycle.”

It’s both a literal and figurative adventure: the folk musician and administrator is currently wheeling across our land on his trusty Trek Checkpoint, determined to complete an 8,000-kilometre journey that should end on Vancouver Island by Sept. 15, in time for his alma mater Lester B. Pearson College’s 50th anniversary.

Here’s the twist: he’s travelling by song.

With the Song Map of Canada as his guide, the 52-year-old Finnan is crossing the country to learn about the origins of as many geography-related tunes as possible.

“The map and the trip are essentially two different things entirely that are interconnected,” said Finnan, who was born in Dublin, Ireland, but raised in Shelter Valley, Ontario, near Grafton.

“There are over 100 songs that different musicians and songwriters have placed on the map, which, as a concept and an engagement piece, is a way for people to interact with the geography of the country by identifying place-based songs.

“It’s not about the artist. It’s about the song.”

Finnan noted that for every mainstream classic like Stompin’ Tom Connors’“Sudbury Saturday Night” or the Tragically Hip’s “Bobcaygeon,” there are many other songs that haven’t had the benefit of radio airplay or mass exposure — and those unknown ditties can unlock intriguing accounts of our nation’s history.

“One of the questions I’m asking myself on this trip is, ‘What is it about a place-based song that inspires an especially deep sense of connection and ownership?’

“Something is different about a place-based song that draws people into their own memories, impressions and experiences. It helps make the song more intimate and the place more familiar, and in doing so we cleave to them like little anthems of identity.”

He found one answer recently in Sheppardville, N.L.

“I stopped at the Junction Inn — and the couple that run it, Tania and John, had an old recording of his dad singing a song called ‘Seagull Stew,’” Finnan relayed recently over a series of phone interviews and Messenger texts.

“It’s the true story of his father, who was one of six kids. Their parents died and the kids were left to fend for themselves.”

Six families in the community eventually took in one kid each and raised them — but before that happened, the siblings spent Christmas together by themselves.

“The song is about his father remembering the shooting of seagulls to make stew for Christmas dinner.

“It’s a rough recording,” Finnan added. “It’s not up online anywhere. But it’s just another example of the way that stories were told and passed on — remarkable.”

He said that these undiscovered treasures provide tourists and travellers glimpses into a local life with which they might be unfamiliar. “So, someone who has not been to that part of the country is able to listen in and imagine life there through the poetry.”

Finnan’s interest in music and songwriting comes organically. He recorded three folk albums (1999’s Fool’s Gold, 2003’s North Wind and 2013’s Once Upon a Time: Live in Grafton and toured coast to coast but found life as a musician financially impractical.

“Creating art and creating music is separate from having a career in it,” he acknowledged. 

“I loved touring and writing about places and people that I met — and am proud of the work I did at that time. It’s a tough way to make a living for an artist. The romance of the road fades pretty quickly. A couple of years living out of vans, you start to crave other things.

“However, that wasn’t exclusively it. You evolve.”

Finnan eventually moved into more administrative roles, founding the Shelter Valley Folk Festival in Grafton, taking a position with the Ontario Arts Council and then relocating in 2014 to Kansas City, Mo., where he spent eight years as the executive director of Folk Alliance International, a non-profit organization that stages an annual conference for the folk music industry.

He figured that with this trip he could reacquaint himself with Canada after a long stretch in the States.

“There’s a homecoming element for me,” Finnan admitted. “Every province is a place where I once played either as a solo artist or as a backing musician, so there’s a retracing of those steps.

“The music is what I’ve been involved in for decades, so there’s an appeal for me to revisit places in song.”

At the time of writing, he was only 10 days into the journey — which began in St. John’s, N.L., on June 16 and led to a trip to Cape St. Mary’s, where he sat, reflected, listened to and sang “Let Me Fish Off Cape St. Mary’s” — but it hasn’t been easy.

“To be honest, it’s easy to dream this up and eventually convince yourself to start it,” Finnan said. “But it’s another thing to get to the first hill and realize that it’s going to be harder than you ever imagined. It’s like that each day.

“I think, ‘What have I done?’ It takes a while to get your balance. It’s one thing to ride a bike, but it’s another to have 100 pounds on your back with all your gear.

“But people have done it before and will do it again, and it’s interesting what happens when you’re physically engaged and then exhausted … because it sort of disarms you, and you get a little tender about … things you’re thinking about.”

His favourite part of the trip so far? Taking the occasional dip in the rivers he comes across.

And the creature comfort he’s missing the most? “A weighted blanket,” said Finnan, who averages between 80 km and 120 km daily.

He’s already experienced East Coast hospitality as well as generosity from several benefactors who have kicked in funds for meals and hotel stays through his Great Canadian Song Cycle website.

“What is said about Newfoundland is ‘Trespassers will be fed and clothed,’” Finnan half-joked. “It’s true.”

Though he is recording his expedition with a GoPro, phone and small drone, the currently unemployed Finnan said he has no concrete project in mind.

“If something comes of it, wonderful,” he said. “But there’s no design at this stage. This ride is just a personal journey for me after decades in the non-profit world and the music industry getting burned out. This is about an extended meditation as well, because you can’t really do much on a bike other than work through the physical nature of (moving) at this pace through this land and through the elements.

“It’s a lot of time to think and feel, both physically and to process life. It’s intense.”