WinterStorm 2009

If every elevated vista is preceded by a series of harrowing steps and missteps, nimble traversing of literal and metaphorical gorges, and periodic oblivion of the path, then WinterStorm IX was a textbook example of the way to the top of the mountain. Food poisoning on the first day of our intended trip had left me utterly incapacitated in spite of the fact that I had volunteered both my wife and myself for a 3-day stint. Thankfully, Friday saw a clearing of my internal atmosphere only to be replaced by a downturn of meteorological conditions: A dusting of snow had created a blizzard-like veil between Springfield and Kansas City.

At many points during the drive, only one driving lane was cleared while the other lane was a snow-packed, ungrated and wholly untested trail. Four hours later, after numerous traffic jams, slow-downs, an overturned tractor-trailor and one small vehicle on the wrong side of the freeway missing a large part of its trunk and bumper (which could be found scattered downstream from the impact site) we made it. We quickly assimilated into the staff of neon orange-shirted volunteers, which were once again managed by the incessantly energetic, Duracell bunny-like Beth Wilson.


My favorite task on Friday was running the tuning lights for the Gold Medal piobaireachd and light music events. It afforded me not only one of the best seats in the house, but also it allowed me to share in the sheer gravity of the moment. A competitor would appear on the stage and begin to blow the drones, and I was to start the timer as soon as I heard the chanter. The lights, meant to help expedite the tuning process of the competitor, would cycle thru a sequence of green to yellow to red like a mini, horizontal traffic light.

My palms soon started sweating profusely at the idea that I might start or stop the timer before the competitor had truly commenced. I knew only one or two of the Gold Medal tunes, so if I started or stopped the lights inappropriately, this distraction for competitor or the audience might not create a fair contest! Last minute instructions on the use of the tuning light remote control by the MHAF vice-president – and a further reeducation by the volunteer that I was replacing (“Give the competitors an extra minute before you start the timer,” he commented “the judges are feeling generous!”) – only added to my sense of nervousness.

My initial fears were quickly put to rest by the shear quality of the performances. It is little wonder that the highland bagpipe became the instrument of choice for medieval highland chieftains: the sound of a well-tuned instrument creates a spell-binding force field around the player. A master piper creates such an aura of utter control that it almost appears as if the piper is practicing a form of acoustic levitation – a sonic galvanization forged before your very eyes! Such was the magical vista to which the Gold Medal competition transported the audience. To hear the winning performances, visit Ken "The Captain" Eller's excellent blog The Captain's Corner and scroll to Winter Storm 2009.

Saturday found me transporting Colin MacLellan, Fred Morrison and an overhead projector to their respective classrooms. MacLellan’s presentation on the Silver Medal tunes was well-attended by several pipers from Simon Fraser University in Vancouver, British Columbia as well as professional pipers from across North America. MacLellan spoke at-length of melodic and phrasing variations for each tune and led the group in focused practice-chanter work. He then concluded with a piping performance of his father’s beautiful composition – The Phantom Piper of Corrieyairack at the Community Christian Church. Of course, Colin’s father was the great piper, Pipe Major and instructor at the Army School of Piping, Captain John A. MacLellan, M.B.E.


If there was ever a piping and drumming Hogwarts academy, WinterStorm would be a natural candidate. On this weekend, the center of the world of Scottish piping and drumming is truly transported from Glasgow, Scotland to Kansas City, Missouri. If that’s not a first class sleight-of-hand, then I don’t know what is! I still can’t help but marvel at how the WinterStorm event has raised the standard of piping and drumming in the Midwest and will continue to do so for generations to come. WinterStorm has become the premiere piping and drumming event in North America. No doubt, this is due in large part to the extraordinary work of the Board of the Midwest Highland Arts Fund in planning and executing the event.