FloydFest Horizon “24: The Birth of FestivalPark

Credibility somewhat intact. Mildly tattered reputation none the worse. This party was overdue and right on-time.                    Weary traveler, welcome back to FloydFest.

Nestled in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia, this music and artisan camping festival has been host to the best in live entertainment for over twenty-years. The award-winning festival has been showcasing live art for folks in the shadow of the Appalachians with music, crafts and everything else in a primitive camping environment, or in some cases, downright primordial. Welcome to FloydFest Horizon “24: The Birth of FestivalPark. Thankfully, as warrior poets we are above petty comparisons and you’ll find no hubris here. Check your ego at the door.

Chanterelle was back in the proverbial pocket and everywhere she turned she ran into friends from Virginia and North Carolina. Getting all these people in one place is what FloydFest meant to her. Yes, things are quiet in your campsite because all your friends are out working. But have no fear. Headliners Joe Russo’s Almost Dead, Black Puma’s, Charlie Crockett and Sierra Ferrell showcased a stellar pack of live musicians along with The Wooten Brothers, Keller Williams, Sexbruise?, The Heavy Heavy, Maggie Rose, Leftover Salmon, Circles Around the Sun, Neighbor, EGGY, Town Mountain, WAR CHILE, Caitlyn Krisco, the Dead Reckoning and so many more. It was a weekend of brutally good, nonstop live music, frivolity and silly fun. Welcome home bad boy. This is FloydFest Horizon “24: The Birth of FestivalPark.                             Music. Magic. Mountains.

FestivalPark the new site for FloydFest, is located in Check, VA, between Roanoke and Floyd. The winding road from the 828 rolls through some of the prettiest mountain vistas anywhere. From Bristol through Galax and on to Shawsvegas, it’s impossible not to be humbled by the significance of these mountains as one of the cradles of American folk music. The site boasts several hills surrounding a scenic hollow with a small creek running through. Celebrating 20-plus years of bringing the artistry of live music info full focus via the art of the festival, Blue Cow Arts & Across-the-Way Productions have developed the new property to ready to welcome its first festival patrons. FloydFest is home and in it, a place where everyone can contribute and help the site grow and change. Professional wooks and stewards of the forest, from withers to brisket.

Chanterelle was roped in with Kamp Happiness and the wranglers media team with Four Day, Bfly and Leaux Leaux. She was making the walk uphill to VIP camping for the second time that day when she realized she had the Jello legs and her lower body was out of FloydFest practice. By the Sierra Ferrell set and a million steps later, her butt muscles had began to form and tighten. Relax fellas, the line forms to the right.

There was a time long ago, forgotten in the pages of history, when the wranglers had to invent colorful FloydFest tales just to fill the coffers. That time has thankfully passed and things are predictably more colorful each year. No need for hyperbole. Festival royalty, JBfly hit the ground running Wednesday night and forget what you know about the subtle crescendo, this is nary the slight slant of an infinity pool but rather the Blue Hole that goes straight down. It’s a new venue and occasional confusion is going to be common.

Expecting to be lodged in a Prevost X3-45 VIP Entertainer at worst, Chanterelle and rest of the wranglers media team hadn’t brought much camping or survival gear. Four-Day brought a canopy for Kamp Happiness which seemed reasonable as long as it didn’t rain. They made camp with the other media personnel near the creek, low-profile and close to everything. As usual, Bfly’s tent was constantly sliding off the mountain and there were few places to store her sundries and unmentionables.

Chanterelle wasn’t late for work at the VIP Lounge but she was doing her best. She’d walked up the mountain to the box office to be told the VIP check-in was at the other end of the park. She tried to get a ride from an obvious derelict on a golf cart, but one look at his sweat rings and mouth spittle and she was immediately convinced to walk the entire length of the park. And why not, if she was going to be coming to this place the rest of her life, she might as well get acquainted. At some point she realized she was blocked from the road and had to hop the fence and traverse the tall grassy area. She’d heard it was a protected space and not to be invaded, but she was a master naturalist and wetland preserves were one of her research specialties. Of course she’d heard stories of Stomp 76 and how those hippies really “used” the creek and few in attendance were prepared for those unusual types of waste management opportunities. Hail Charlie who came through in the clutch, pointing out the location of the VIP lounge. For everyone, ignorance was slowly blossoming into quasi-educated and moderately knowledgeable ambassadors. Be sure to watch out for the Pegans.

Devil’s Backbone Brewing Company Higher Ground Viewing Deck and Stage: Leaux Leaux knew she was going to spend many a set at this viewing platform. Having seen early photographs of the structure, she’d figured it was going to be the stage but now she could understand how this was just the viewing platform and the stage would be some mammoth structure to be built at a later day. This was all part of a grander work in progress. Merely the acorn that would become the oak.

Chanterelle had created a new hierarchy for her spectrum of friendship. Without the aid of a golf cart she noticed, over time, that she was repeatedly visiting camps close to her own elevation on the mountain profile. It was a gentle walk through the Hobbit village near Creekside Camping and around the way to Artist Camping. Once a night they would venture up the mountain to Canopy Camping and sniff out the jam circles lurking in the forest. Sunday night in front of the Depot showed the most promise for the future. That area was allowed to serve as a commons that remained lit and occupied for most of the night. It was a good place for musicians and listeners to collaborate and celebrate. Good idea. In the future, quiet campers should avoid that area if at all possible.

Leaux Leaux was the French girl who loved Billy Joel. She was traveling with her mother and when they got together, their vibrations merged into one harmonic cackle. The night before thought she’d seen a mole hole, or maybe a vole hole. She wasn’t even sure if voles lived in Virginia but this was definitely some type of ambiguous, burrowed space and she’d put her tent directly on top of it. No big deal at the time but later? Nightmare fuel. It would have been better if it had just been a dream. Hopefully it was. The mole nibbling at her underarm as she slept was hopefully a dream. The perfect hole in the tent, just above the one in the ground was not. It reminded her of the beach in Tulum and a certain crab that would occasionally check to see if she was still alive.

Floyd Country Store Workshop Porch Stage: Four-Day swung by the merchandise room just in time to witness the future of FloydFest. A slough of school-age children played gospel bluegrass on the Porch Stage. One in particular reminded him of Shane Turner as she played like a flamingo, perched on one foot. It was an easy way to tell if one was dealing with a crazy fiddle player.

Check out these offerings from visionary photographer, Cloud Bobby. Visit his Facebook page and witness the spectacle of the festival through his eyes. Also, one of the sweetest guys on campus.

She’d lost Imad sometime during the night and while searching for him she found Jeff and Crystal behind the stage eating some kind of vegan wrap. They steered her to Jeremy and Avery camped across from the VIP lounge. Their neighbor had a coconut filled with 100 proof Puerto Rican rum. Chanterelle wasn’t sure how it was different from an incendiary. Just add a wick and you’ve got a Puerto Rican coconut bomb which sounded like something a pirate might use. By the time she’d gotten back from exploring, they’d already finished the rum. Maybe it was easier to create than destroy.

Creekside Camping: She seemed serious enough as she leaned in. “Here. Want some mushroom juice?” He opened his mouth and the viscous fluid hit the back of his throat with such a force, splatter shot back out of his gaping maw. “What did you just do to me?” Goodnight sweet prince. Just lie back and let it happen. Hide in your tent until the Leftover Salmon set.

Bitchin’ Sauce VIP Stage: Wednesday showcased Kamp Happiness favorites Sexbruise? at the VIP stage. The team was blessed with a photo pit pass for the first time, eliminating the need for another emotional face-off in the pit.

Family cast asunder by the unfamiliar terrain. The Asheville annex had moved in to Creekside Camping, Kamp Happiness West moved into Artist Camping and the rest of the thugs were scattered throughout Canopy Camping. Higgly-piggly to be sure. In the words of Buddha, “the only constant is change”.

Of course you got lost. You were supposed to get lost. It’s your first rodeo. Bfly got so lost Wednesday night, she imagined she might not find the vehicle by Mexican Monday. Charlie took his shift, Sexy Baby helped out until near sunrise. It takes a village and some who wander are completely lost.

Chanterelle was being a bit persnickety by the time she got to work. As usual it was Brett’s fault. He and a wild-eyed Afghani had picked her up behind VIP stage and instead of taking her up the hill to work, he gave her a lift the wrong way. Along the way he explained that more serotonin was released into the brain from cold water than from face drugs. While that didn’t make complete sense, he was sure he’d never met an ice immersion whore.

Canopy Camping: Big Betty ended up spending most of her time between the admin building and the box office. Somewhere in there was JBone and his crossroads jam. She stayed till 3am the first night and sunrise the next night as things began to look and feel like FloydFest. She hooked up with Mr. Beautiful and dragging the mandolin and bull fiddle, the two of them took off in search of adventure in the morning twilight. It’s good policy to keep moving at this time of the day lest you want your megaphone slung in the lake. #truth

Relax everyone, it’s ok to sleep in your car. Do they have vagrancy laws in this county? The officer said, “No worries. I’m just going to search your car and as long as you don’t have anything illegal, you should be good to go.” Famous last words. Next stop, a pod with seventy-four other thugs watching Cops. By day three, Four Day and Bfly were sharing a toothbrush. Chanterelle wasn’t claiming to be the world’s best busboy but one never really forgets. She was reminded of Lightnin’ Steve Little, before he was the face of the wranglers, when asked what his favorite festival job was, he simply stated, “Whatever. I don’t care as long as I’m at the show.” He remembered the two  of them setting up the parking lines in D Lot, dancing in the morning glories, shirtless and unafraid.

During The Jared Stout Band, Chanterelle ran into Betsy coming from behind the VIP stage. She was pilfering two large cans of sweet-heat peanuts. Sexy Baby and Rachel, the wranglers Christmas Jam media team showed up for both WAR CHILE shows. Sexy baby showed up chewing on a mushroom stem that resembled a chicken bone as if he’d just walked from behind a Bohangles dumpster. “Ooh, there’s one with some meat on it.”

Lucienda had made it her life’s mission to strive to break down the societal barriers between the VIPness and the proletariat. For this festival, wrangler research and development produced original wrangler VIPness laminates in the hopes of saturating the  lanyard/laminate pool. In addition to the late-night, renegade fun, these bits of festival flair not only signify like-minded thugs, but when folded hot dog style can be useful when collecting Detroit dry wall. Several “operatives” found themselves on the greener side of the VIPness fence all thanks to the new credentials. “Sir, your laminate is not on the sign.” “Yes, obviously it’s not on the sign. It’s on the updated sign.”

Chanterelle lost her peach moon rocks during ingress but they still had some 828 and some kush cake leftover from Michigan. During her first shift her betters gave her three hours off in the middle of the day. Do what you want but this is FloydFest. She knew if she went wandering it was very possible she would eventually get into some shenanigans with like-minded folks.

Four Day recalled the story of the abusive boyfriend whose job on the horse farm included epididymal sperm harvesting. Apparently there is no shelf life on revenge.

They stood next to each other at the VIP showers. One wore a t-shirt that read, “Lebowski 24, This aggression will not stand.” and the other wore a Claypool/Strings 24. They ultimately agreed it was unwise to get political at the festival but in the end, it was good and fair that both parties were represented.

Mama Jill told the story that the story of how the groupie eventually becomes the groadie, part groupie part roadie. Still giving up the booty but at some point, carrying amps. “For somebody that has absolutely no idea what’s going on you sure do have plenty of opinions.”

Delta Lot Memories. There was a report of Wilbur eating Mike helms bottom teeth and showing off the prettiest dog smile you ever did see. Some people are just not cut out to live onsite.

Please don’t fuck the vibe. Chanterelle said, Ben shot back, “To be honest, I cannot make that promise. I’m very attracted to the vibe.”

At some point behind VIP, Chanterelle noticed Tyler and Bertha parked in Artist Camping. Having found earlier success cutting across the protected ditch she thought she’d try it again. Two steps in she realized she’d make an grave error as she sunk, waist deep, down into the Vietnamese ditch water. It would be the last lesson she’d require and from then forward she would gladly take the long way around. Before she’d been dealing with ticks and now she could add leeches to her wildlife bingo card.

Go for Sam.

Big Betty drug herself up the mountain in hopes of finding a pickin’ circle somewhere near the crossroads. They found Jeremiah there sucking on his harmonica. They’d been Delta Lot neighbors during his first FloydFest, too long ago to remember. She met up with Mr. Beautiful and his mandolin just out looking for trouble. Never forget, at it’s core, FloydFest is a pickin’ festival. Don’t forget, capos are mandatory in Virginia. Why play in G when A flat is available?

Lucy woke up with a tick dug into her skull. She tried using a grapefruit spoon to dig the proboscis out of her fontanel. She was trying to stay ahead of the rash. No one would allow her to blame her bad behavior on Bell’s Paulsy. With her luck, it was a Lone Star and the Alpha-gal would cut her off from any more of Crystal’s jello shots. With a large cavity in her scalp, she was reminded of what the Roanoke witches chanted when they burned a tick. “The power of Christ compels you!” Nichole screamed that you couldn’t flick a tick of one’s back to which he calmly reminded her it could be done in transit.

Who would know where to go? Would Sexy Baby sleep all day without Big Betty to roust him up? Important questions for important people. Welcome to the thirteenth floor, Research and Development.

Canopy Grovestage: Kamp Happiness West popped up in Artist Camping along with the WAR CHILE crowd. Shirtless drummers and mountain folk sleeping in tree hammocks. When Craig County folks are around, you can just feel a different tingle in the wind.

This was everyone’s introduction to FestivalPark and continued imagination will be the driving force in its growth because here, in this secluded hollow in the hills, anything is possible. There was still a mountain of lingering questions that hadn’t yet been answered but in the end, some mysteries are best left unsolved.

Monday morning Bfly packed up in the rain. They would forgo their usual late checkout and head for the nearest Mexican restaurant. Her feet were bruised from a weekend of bouldering and what must have been poison ivy. Chanterelle had also been up all night, following Big Betty from jam to jam, eating the rest of Imad’s lost Sunshine Daydream. Her adventures took her to the Depot which apparently had no “quiet hours” allowing the family jam to stumble through forgotten lyrics until sunrise. Look for Kamp Happiness somewhere hear these crossroads next year.

Thanks to FloydFest for, once again keeping the wranglers in the fold. Their operation is one of the classiest in the business. Visit their website and like their social media channels on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter/X YouTube, Spotify, and TikTok. And while you’re lost in the warren of the etherweb, stop by some of the wook wranglers social media platforms. The future is nigh. Are you not influenced?

Somewhat surprised, Chanterelle had survived the gauntlet. Small dog was still in effect. Follow her and the rest of the team as they gear up for what hopes to be a “sporting” October in Live Oak, Florida with Suwannee Roots Revival and Hulaween.

#music #magic #mountains