FloydFest has been held annually since 2002 and “Aurora” marks the second year at FestivalPark, the new location positioned between Roanoke and Floyd, Virginia. This year’s headliners included Gov’t Mule, The Black Crowes, Mt. Joy, JJ Grey and Mofro, Paul Cauthen, The California Honeydrops, The Wood Brothers, Futurebirds, Cimafunk, Femi Kuti & the Positive Force, Geese, The Travelin’ McCrorey’s Presents the Grateful Ball, Maggie Rose, The Brothers Comatose, Big Something, Caitlyn Krisko and the Broadcast, The Last Revel, The Jared Stout Band, Issac Hayden, The Kamp Happiness Family Band and more. With improvements everywhere at the site and some different stage placements, the weekend quadriceps workout is back and better than ever. Boots on the ground.

Lucy and Bfly arrived at the site Tuesday midday. They’d been listening to “It Ain’t No Use” by The Meters. “You got me where you want me (where you want me). I’m shackled to your love (to your love”. Set me free, set me free, set me free, set me free, set me free now.” As always, Lucy’s first instinct was to complain about having to move up the hill but, for once she just said “Thank you” and shut the big mouth. Turns out other than a few robust pickin’ sessions, they managed to get along as small dog and enjoy the weekend as what the wooks called a “restival”.

Just down the hill, Her Dankness and Hillary manned the volunteer tent. This event is different in the fact that everyone knows each other. Virginia and North Carolina cousins. Working stiffs? We don’t need no stinking  badges. Lucy had done about everything since her first year working artist transpo and loved helping to build the party but now they were making a conscious effort to stay in their lane. They had given up on monetizing the site and from now on, they would take photographs, sleep and actually listen to music.

Tuesday: Hobo Kamp and Shadier Pastures. The media area from last year had become first aid. The Hobo Kamp was no longer with Craig and the rest of the media team so the younguns wouldn’t have an opportunity to abuse the photographers. They made friends with the thugs in Staff A, sharing space with the bartenders and security guys. A lady and her three-year old put their tent up about four feet from the living room. A bold choice, Cotton. It wasn’t that they were up all night cajoling. They definitely were, but it was reasonably quiet. It was the content of which was utterly foul. Pinthing? Is that what the kids were doing now? He’d never heard of anyone putting chemicals in that place but it’s a fool who looks for logic in the chambers of the human heart. Mom agreed and she and her brood packed up the next morning and gravitated to shadier pastures, as if that was possible.

Later that night, the crisis crew got a call from Four Day Old Brie with an urgent request to move Kamp Happiness Creekside closer to the water closet in an effort to keep the hippies and their fecal matter out of the creek. Joined by the interns and wranglers, the mission was a complete success and luckily, thanks to the Litter Kitty some of the Asheville contingency ended up moving up the hill to Hobo Kamp. Like the rest of kamp, he was off work during the festival, allowing for more rest and subsequent fun with the absence of shadow people. Come and be redeemed.

Virginia is for lovers. Bfly and Moonpie survived last year. Between her lifestyle and his job as world’s greatest busboy, they rarely saw each other. This year, the only real plan was to enjoy the festival together, and that they did. They slept way too much and actually enjoyed music. The Wood Brothers date night set was their slice of high science. Congratulations to Dirt track and Cambone on their engagement after meeting at the same event, years ago. DD, helping other guys look bad since 1976. FloydFest is for lovers.

Wednesday, Oasis/Pringles Can: As part of their daily ritual, the camp would avoid the heat for most of the day and chill in the shadiest shade with the bartenders and security guards. At some point in the afternoon, they would stroll to one of their favorite bars on campus for a couple hours of ciders and conversation. Who could forget the bong disguised as a water bottle on their way to the Tan and Sober Gentlemen set? The new spot for the Oasis Stage was Gucci. The sound was great and there was little blending from stage to stage. Foot-stomping goodness from the get down to the waltzes. Peppy to be sure. They caught Issac Hadden and then Tan and Sober Gentlemen with Brian from Big Daddy Love at the late-night throw down at the Depot. That was the only time all week they made it up to the Sampound and it was so late by then, they got distracted by the possibility of some light pirating. They were nearly successful in taking off with Marcus’ booty before getting busted by his crew. The next day they exchanged gifts of VIPness laminates and homemade art. In the modern era, pirating is how we make friends and civilians are encouraged to play.

Thanks to everyone who sported the Wranglers Media VIPness laminates that completely melted in the rain. Although it’s not her fault, can’t we blame Katie Waffle? They’d spent more time at her camp than anywhere else because at the end of the day for many, this festival is about playing homemade music around the campsite. Lucy had never even seen an Aurora so how could she really believe in them? Like weaponized hurricanes the government had been seeding into the clouds since the thirties, one couldn’t be too careful these days. The only real Auroras she’d ever witnessed were flashed inside darkened Porta-Johns. Speaking of, their facilities near the camp at Media parking were immaculate and among the best on site. She preferred overhead versus lower illumination as she imagined he looked younger in that kind of lighting.

“I didn’t hear a yes sir.” Their camp was littered with empty pre-rolled containers from Michigan and the dream was finally over. It was obviously time to head back to Detroit. These security guards were an expensive habit but well worth it. Having originals from the Wook Nook made everything better on the hill. In Asheville they called him Jaundice and yes, he did sound like a hillbilly. How do I know you are country? In your deep freeze you’ve got the skinned head of a deer and a tick in a sandwich bag.

Thursday: They sat on the hill together during Maggie Rose and actually felt bad for her tamourine. It was taking quite a beating and she was another of their new favorites. Lucy was asleep again during Mt. Joy and missed Sarah and Brie at Cimifunk. Somewhere along the way, Joe sat down at camp and got poison ivy on his rear.

Nature Aplenty: Brie’s husband Neil came home to his perch at Kamp Happiness Creekside to find a raccoon, sitting in a puddle of cheese puffs, wearing his Ecuadorian hat and trying to get into his bottle of peanut butter whiskey. Eventually, they realized they were both Parrot heads and became fast friends. The raccoon imagined he saw hammerhead worms crawling out of his whiskey drink and said he could feel Daddy Long legs walking on his neck. The butterflies landed on the Indians blankets and Over 21 bracelets searching for succulence to the point of ridiculous.

Stolen beer during the code red? She was definitely not above enjoying the occasional contraband cocktail and while that sounded like a great idea for a bad movie, this time they were not in bed with the culprits. Lots of handsome thugs out there. They considered trying to use last year’s blue beer tickets, still in the wallet but they never got around to it. Next year, they might try to use some of the leftover purples from this year. They remained at camp during all the of code reds, staying close during recent rains in an effort to be on bubble patrol and save her bargain canopy. Hell, they even had pool noodles for the corners. Hashtag wook science.

“Sarah, do you have a golf cart?”
“I don’t even have a fake radio.”

Friday: Mt. Joy Once again, Baitbucket went to bed pretty early. He’d made the tent and bed too comfortable and after years of sleeping in the back of her vehicle, now they were living the good life in the darkened out tent, getting their money worth. Equipped with bear spray and whistle, Emad and Benjamin joined Tom and Jerry with the Florincia crowd at the Oasis Stage. Smoking cigarettes in the middle of the crowd at Big Something, on the hunt to rip someone’s pocket off the back of their trousers. What were they even doing in Staff A at five in the morning? He’d left the bass at Sarah’s General Store, surely it would safe.

Icepick woke up around three am to harmless frivolity in his nearby living room. He joined the posse as they lurked toward the Depot for more late-night jams. Around eight Icepick realized he had only three hours until Brian Gray’s memorial at the Canopy Stage. For most folks it would have been plenty of time for primping but he was moving a little slow. Next step was to wash off the stink, outside and inside, yet he found the showers closed and waiting for the water truck. With a loose flexibility, he changed clothes at his vehicle and washed off in the pump sink outside the honeypots. Teeth brushed and face clean, he was ready for water and an egg sandwich from the Sugar Shack. At 10:45 he received a text from Litter Kitty. “Boots on the ground.” “On my way”. Everyone managed to rally and meet up to celebrate the memory and legacy of Brian Gray.

FestivalPark isn’t around nature or close to nature, it is immersed and within. Sitting in the shade on the hill, enjoying Cimifunk, Lucy found Corey, their neighbor working security. He and Deon had gotten comfortable, in spite of them only having a borrowed tent.

He’d been well behaved most of the weekend. They all slept more than they ever had. Even the Warhammer. He’d traded Saturday for a meal token only to realize it was for Friday. He would be saving that for next year. This shit is chess, not checkers.

There was Joe’s chocolate prison hooch which tasted like it could only have been processed in a prison urinal. It was hard to know whether it was more terrible separated or shaken up. This is the coagulation station. Of course they drank every sip of it. On Friday, Lucy got paid and could finally tip some bartenders and buy some renegade contraband as soon as she found an ATM. Once she realized she was out of luck, a deal was worked out with the messes who traded rubs for money for venmo.

He remembered camping out with the original Virginia “thug” back in the early dirt at EForest, getting sunrise primordial after a full night of tossing pizzas. Now he was doing laps in a golf cart, pretending to work. Like Boston, very official, almost administrative and with facial hair that made him look like an Amish pimp.

Saturday: They spent the entire day at camp listening to Rachel Cantore as she kept them up to date with the most recent weather reports. She even loved to carry ice! After the Code Reds, they eventually made their way to KH Creekside for some homegrown music with Brie’s husband Neil and his raccoon. Next, the early birds made their way to Jared Stout while the Wood Brothers were so good, Lucy considered swimming across the moat and get closer to Chris Wood. The sound was good and loud for the the Black Crowes and they sounded as tight and crisp as they have in a hot minute.

Thanks to the FloydFest team for making things professional and friendly. Not every group operates this way. For whom the bell tolls. It tolls for thee, not me. While not beyond the pale of reason, one couldn’t give these people more credit than they deserved. She’d slept in her car many festivals, even “slept” in the trunk of his Audi, so many FloydFests ago. Delta Lot trash. They knew who they were and it remained a badge of pride.

It’s all about the figuring. FloydFest is a real business but it’s impossible to separate the family from the work. Everywhere you look is someone you love, putting their time in to make it special for the rest.

It’s good we’ve now saturated the market with two years worth of contraband VIPness laminates. We may be have to use forged paperwork next year in order to keep our spot. He’d learned so much from the Phish fans. The slippery ones always wore Hi-Vis. At this point, most of them were actually bona fide but they still went with the Hi-Vis. Monday at sunrise they opted to take one more lap around the site and celebrate the completion of the festival. Somewhere therein, the whiskey took hold and Lucy got caught in the eye wall of a full blown gravity storm. Like Jimmy said, “It don’t give no warning sign.” Luckily it was sunrise and most of the pilgrims were still retired, lulled by the sound of their portable air conditioner and CPAP machine. As always, thanks for not calling the cops.

They were still expecting their own Prevost but until then, their plan next year was to stay where they were and try to run power from somewhere close. Welcome to the idea factory. Oh yeah, they also were planning on asking for meal tickets. Food is real. Reckon they would manage to cross that bridge when it was time. Baitbucket was just happy he didn’t get scolded for getting “creative” with content. Thankfully, those days were over and now, between fact and rumor, there was more than enough to fill the pages.

As always, FloydFest represents that part of the festival spectrum where things are just done better. Classy and smooth, blurring the line between patron and worker, bridging the bourgeois and the proletariat. Stay the course. Keep the faith. FloydFest 26. July 22-26. When in doubt, believe in what the coach called “the process”. See you next year.

Visit the FloydFest website and like their social media sites on Facebook, Instagram, X and YouTube. Keep up with Wranglers Media ten-year anniversary tour as we send troops to Orange Blossom Revue, Earl Scruggs Music Festival and Lost Lands and Bristol Rhythm and Roots Reunion. October comes with the fray at Spirit of Suwannee Park for Suwannee Roots Revival and Hulaween.  Thanks for enjoying our FloydFest manifesto. Welcome to the Wook Wranglers Family. You can check out but you can never leave.

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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

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