Red Wing Roots Music Festival 21: Assault on Chimney Ridge

As Lucy looked for her friends in the first lot up the hill the volunteer asked, “Are they in quiet camping?” She smiled,  “Definitely not.”

Red Wing Staff: This was a different kind of festival for Lucy. Everyone she came to spend time with was working and that turned out to be a great formula. Never one to miss a pre-party and post-party this crowd had to be there days early to set up and stay until everyone else was gone. Bfly ended up on top of the mountain parking cars in the sun all day. Welcome to the sweat basket. To watch them work, most of the time they were just trying to help everyone have a good time and keep everything running smoothly. From the top down, the communication and easy manner kept everything in line, especially in the wake of some curiously sideways incidents. A special thanks to Doug, the Rangers and the Chimney Ridge crowd who went above and beyond to deal with the wranglers and those of their sloppy ilk.

Zombie Lot: Held up by what appeared to be a mad viking, Z lot was no stranger to childish mayhem and fun. Trevor’s final report included a litany of moral turpitude from lost parents and squatters with caged animals to adolescent bike gangs and the the crazy Honda Element woman. There were even storied tales involving William and some kind of zombie opossum. Really the stuff of heroes and legend. One can only imagine…The wide red eyes glazed over with that far away look of madness. The hatchet laying in the back of the golf cart bed. Blood markings on the face and chest, in the old way of the Algonquin. The dance of the spirit opossum.

“Bought a ticket, might as well see the show.”

J Lot (Staff-RV): For two days Lucy had been using her Mountain Music Festival lanyard to get into VIP for free beers and vegetable kabobs. It was passable with the program cover pinned over the tag and Baitbucket slid in behind her in hopes of grabbing some photos from the side of the stage. He also had no media credentials and was having trouble getting into the pit. Not that it mattered. His phone was heating up and making strange noises and the camera hadn’t been taken out of the car all weekend. He knew if he went back to Donnie and Cameron’s place he might be able to find a cold Miller Lite and Jody Carbone sleeping in a beach chair. For one free press pass all he’d have to do is bop him on the head with a bocce ball and stuff him in a rolled up carpet until the weekend was over. Easy wind. What’s a small concussion between friends?

The Red Wing Roots Festival was alive and purring with delicious energy. Everywhere people were singing, dancing and playing in the soft Virginia grass. It was Lucy’s first time at Red Wing and it felt righteous and good surrounded by family in the cradle of the Shenandoah Valley. Thanks to Steve and Pepinillo for choosing the camp. Not only was it in a high traffic area but it was also completely unshaded. For the money, most of the time you can only get one of those. Praise Allah that no one pooped in the KH wook shower which, considering the afternoon temperatures, saved lives.

Assault on Chimney Ridge:  The word was given. It was time for the Kamp Happiness militia to finally take the high ground. From their perch atop Chimney Ridge they would be able to keep track of the skirmish below. The Rangers who’s job it had been to “make sure everyone had a good time” kept a keep eye on the flank, while Doug managed Chimney Ridge. There were still hard questions to be answered. Who is going into the cooler and drinking all the tequila? Bfly figured it was Bello the Mando as he was already moving his shoulders in that wiggly way that said strange things lay on the horizon. He claimed good dancing started in the shoulders. Later it was discovered that Steve had been rummaging through stranger’s coolers looking for cold beer and Oreos. In the end it was all chalked up to harmless misunderstanding and everyone laughed together over a stick of clover honey.

Friday Night

Thanks to Mitch for hosting the “quiet bluegrass” tent which provided hours of homegrown mountain slather. When it got shut down at two am “like a bad daycare” by the red golf shirt brigade, everyone knew the hard truth that Big Betty was to blame. She was always pretty loud but as the night went on and she was plied with liquor she only became more excited. If there was going to be any success with late night pickin’ circles, she would have to be left out of it and that wouldn’t be easy. There were some great musicians around and she wasn’t about to waste the opportunity to pick with all of them, especially the dueling mandolins. The pickin’ circle eventually moved out to the Chimney Ridge fire pit in the field and with the addition of a handful of pickers they were able to serenade all the way to five am when they finally called it a night. It can’t be easy to come out in your boxers and ask the music circle to shut down. Everyone forgets the magic power of earplugs. Lucy laughed in disgust. By that time, the sky was changing colors over the Virginia mountains and it seemed silly to stop. One of her favorite things was to play bluegrass to the morning joggers and folks making early port-o-potty runs.

Nitrous Mafia Bluegrass: Everyone knew if there was going to be late music Saturday night a new innovative plan would have to be put in place. They were going to have to get entirely serious if this was going to happen. Someone suggested the “nitrous mafia” bluegrass strategy whereby when discovered, the musicians would scatter like roaches and regroup at a preplanned destination. Carlos suggested playing as they moved and keeping the red golf shirts pointed in the wrong direction. Naturally this wouldn’t be the kind of festival with a nitrous mafia, but they could still take a few pages out of their book. In reality the whippets had been gone by Thursday night and Baitbucket always liked to throw a few around the camp perimeter so folks walking by knew what they were getting into.

Ugliest Dog Ever? The high afternoon temperatures at Chimney Ridge were taking a toll. Reports of aberrant behavior such as sun stroke madness and delirium were rampant as a result of both malnutrition and dehydration. Bfly managed to take a sweaty afternoon nap in her vehicle only to discover that what appeared to be a meercat had found it’s way into her Subaru (North Carolina camouflage) and curled up next to her panting ferociously. Once she began it feeding kettle corn and water it got comfortable and remained the rest of the weekend. It could occasionally be seen walking in staff camping wearing it’s service dog vest.

Wookish Innovations: At some point Pepinillo heard muffled music coming from inside the ice machine and recognized “Shoop” by Salt n Pepa. He was not prepared for what he saw when he opened the door but at once he understood exactly what was happening. Someone had cleared out one side of the ice machine and Bfly was sitting in the dark with the meercat which by then had been properly identified as a raccoon. “Shut the door. You’re letting out all the cold!” Baitbucket screamed. “Get in line if you wanna cool off. Ten bucks for two songs or five minutes, whichever comes first”.

Saturday Night 

Shuttle Service: Bucket and Bello got recruited to work for Chris and drive shuttles for the folks headed back to the parking lot. They didn’t even know these types of people existed. After all, who would ever want to leave this party? They were thrilled to finally have jobs with golf carts since that’s been the goal since the beginning of time. Unfortunately these came with radios which work to keep the irresponsible in check. Aboard Bucket’s shuttle everyone could be heard singing the theme from “Dukes of hazard” as they traded paint around turn four.

Kamp Happiness Family Jam: Thanks goes out to the KH staff working at the Chimney Ridge shuttle stop for setting up the Saturday night VIP Dance Party (no credentials required). Face painting, dancing, snacks drinks and responsible fun found it’s way to the fire circle for everyone at the shuttle stop. A little after midnight, pickers of all ages emerged from the shadows, instruments in tow and ready to tighten the screws on some home grown music. The crowd continued to gather as the Chimney Ridge house band picked through the likes of the Stanley Brothers and endless trad and anon classics.

Disperse! The shutdown came again at 2 am just as Bello yelled “go dark!” and the performers sprang off into the moonless night. Moments later they regrouped at Mitch’s for quiet bluegrass until about five am. At that point Baitbucket and Bello found their way back to the Chimney Ridge fire pit to watch the sky change color and lay down some bluegrass sunrise gospel over a half bottle of cheap wine. Come to the circle and get saved. Bucket even waited until 7:45 to crack the bullwhip.

Sunday Funday

Golf cart 250 Invitational: Congratulations goes out to Pepinillo for his first place finish in this year’s event. Returning from his recent accident at the Pop’s Farm track everyone was glad to see he and his crew chief back in action. The third place “Punkin Chunkin'” car had this to say when asked how he kept coming in the money, “Sometimes you got to put ’em in the corn”.

Look for the Kamp Happiness Pickin’ Tent next year hopefully somewhere way back in the corner.

Not-so-quiet camping: For folks who just need more.

Thanks again to Red Wing Black Bear Productions for putting up with all the silliness. Visit the Red Wings Roots Music Festival website and like their their social media sites on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter.

Music: When asked how he enjoyed the music, Pepinillo replied that he hadn’t seen any. At some point one realizes that the festival staff doesn’t ever get to see much music. They’re busy driving shuttles and killing opossums. These are the people who make it all happen. It’s a woodland fantasy filled with dance and song that seems to go off without a hitch and this staff made it look easy. It doesn’t come with much money and the hours they put in is ludicrous. They don’t get as unwound as everyone else and most can’t get too faded late night because they start super early the next day, parking cars and taking tickets, working the sound and serving the Mexican food. Those are the professional wooks. Riding the tour wherever it takes them. Finding their hard fun when they can but more importantly, blurring the line between work and fun and arriving at a place where both happen together.

Monday Blues? While most departures are usually sad with the ending of the party and the parting with friends but this is summer in Virginia and that is not the way of the warrior. These festivarians were headed home for a night or two and then it’s off to Floydfest for the next three weeks. Just enough time to wash the feet and catch a nap before it’s back into the gauntlet.

Thanks goes out to Azul Acres for feeding walking tacos to the Chimney Ridge family all weekend and especially for the Sunday buffet at the Hobo Kamp. Check out their Facebook page to see where they are gonna pop up next.

Check out our recent submission from Mountain Music Festival “21: Please Don’t Eat the Cicadas and more from the archives. Keep up with Lucy and Baitbucket as the Summer Mountain Festival Lyme Disease Tour chugs on.

Stay with Wook Wranglers Media as we head to Floyd, Virginia for lessons in moral ambiguity as the summer tour continues. After FloydFest  we slowly take the trek up to Summer Camp in Illinois and then on to Backwoods in Arkansas. Look for us at Rooster Walk Reunion in October when all roads then lead back to Suwannee Roots Revival and Hulaween at the Spirit of Suwannee Music Park. It’s moist verging on damp.

Safe Travels.