The ten year anniversary the of Full Moon Family Reunion brought everything to the hagglin’ table and produced one of the slickest music festivals of all time. Improving on an already crystalline formula, Hula continues to get better each year and everyone, from the professional cuddlers to the river pirates raised the ante and doubled on the bet. The Spirit of Suwannee Music Park fam reached new heights with this addition of the annual Halloween festival and, once again the forests and fields served as a perfect backdrop for the countless adventures and experiences that would materialize under the magical beauty of the cypress trees. The weather was perfect all week in Live Oak reminding us why it’s perfect time for the annual shift to the tropics. For many of the Hulaween faithful, the Spirit of the Suwwannee Music Park is home and in the words of Shanaenae of Free Range Strange, at their Friday set on the Campground Stage, “It’s good to be home.” Let go. Bats aren’t real. Wade in the water. This is Immersion Therapy at Suwannee Hulaween “23. We are not human traffic cones. This is our time. This is our place. This is our story.

Immersion/Exposure Therapy? A phobia is an anxiety disorder involving excessive and persistent fear of a situation or object. Exposure to the source of the fear can trigger an immediate anxiety response. Immersion therapy is a psychological technique which allows a patient to overcome fears and can be used for anxiety and panic disorders. How many people at the show can get uncomfortable in large crowds? Get ready to face all of your phobias. Dirt? Loud noises? Ground glitter? Hulaween is bubbling, frothing ready to address all of your psychoanalytic needs and show you how really silly the whole thing can be. Just lie back and let it happen. The doctor is in.

C’mon now. The yoke was never supposed to be that heavy. What would be the point in something like that? Call it creative design but let’s assume the universe was written with more elaborate purpose. Mixed in with the call to arms, there is surely a time for celebration, frivolity and fun. Get out of the head. Do the work. Breath. Stay up all night. Sing. Dance. Let go. Serve. Embrace the ego death. Dip your balls in it. Suwannee Hulaween celebrated its ten year anniversary with a Full Moon Family Reunion that took everything Hula has learned in a decade and rolled it all into one overstuffed burrito of high-science, sharp fun. It was a heaping spoonful of high exposure and data overload, yes and thank you. Your pleasure is my time. The lineup was filled with four straight days of eclectic, gender-bending music, artists, vending, food, friends and loose side adventures.The String Cheese Incident and Pretty Lights anchored a list that included Trey Anastasio Band, Goose, Free Range Strange, Les Claypool’s Fearless Flying Frog Brigade, JRAD, Lespecial, John Summit, Dispatch and a metric ton of more. For goodness sake and criminy peat, what else could you need?

Prologue. Lucy and Baitbucket stopped in Rome, Georgia for a few days of stagehand work and were going to be dangerously tardy for homesteading property in the Farm Field. They had somewhere around thirty people coming to camp near the shade of the Poncho Tree so there was definitely work to be done. The Pine and Farm Field is covedeth land and fortunately the greasiest Mexican came Sunday early and worked with Lil d Big Arel from Cheese. Love. Sauce. to rope off some plantation land, near the Titty Kitties (always) and across the street from Mateo and the River Pirates in the Pine Field. Location, location, location. One can just see this place turning into Asheville. Sure to sellout the first chance they get. They come early and like hummingbirds and salmon, return to the same spots every year so they can mate and die. It’s important the Shady Witch of the Panhandle can find Kamp Happiness within the flashing mural of pounding madness. Hippies use front door. You should check it out. It’s pretty inviting. All are welcome.

Hobo Kamp homesteaded a sliver of land at the Poncho Tree and set up shop in original Kamp Happiness settlement. The Hurt Locker landed near the bat house crossroads and homesteaded a sizable patch right on main street. Somewhere between Major Malfunktion and Live Oak, there came a tear in her in her inflatable rainbow. Somehow Baitbucket was going to have to shift the blame to Boston and Sam. It would be easy. They were a known pair of degenerates and admitted criminals. Richmond trash book ended the strip with Kiera and Q the Roanoke Mafia at the other end. Thanks to Pedro and Lil d for saving space in the Pine Field which filled up quickly. Thanks to the unpaid, unsung minions who helped people find places to park without upsetting each other or the natural balance. Wednesday is easy when level heads prevail and isn’t it in the best interest of the park that we take an ownership role and become stewards of our own forest? You already know. The math checks out.

Wednesday. Data Overload. Encroachment Issues and More…

He was afraid to open the antique suitcase. He could only dare to imagine what was inside? A raping ball of black mambas? Roasted monkey nuts? It was stenciled with their emblem y Mateo. It would prove to be a Linda piano accordion from Italy mixed with a dense black mold that would later and forever imprint his mother’s guest room. It was as wide as a Plymouth and twice as heavy. It was providence that it was always going to end up with Mateo, who ended up with his lightning bolt jacket from Rum 132.

World’s worst ambassador “puts the lotion on the pig.”

Ryan Mason coined the look of the high vis vest. Where did the radios even come from? Who was he actually speaking to? It was connected to someone at Cheese. Love. Sauce. Maybe? Who were they? “It puts the lotion on the pig?” and other hideous, whispering sounds. What did it mean? Audio hallucination had begun to seep into the fold.

Golly. Don’t worry there old chap. It’s not just you. Everyone is having a psychotic episode. It’s all happening at the same time and it’s your turn to push through. Moonspittle approached Pedro’s garbage patch asking for an escort back to Hippy Trail. One of the pleasures of any busy festival is the chance to have one-on-one walks with friends and a little time to visit. The sunrise conversations over gateway specialty cocktails like potato salad coladas and Bloody Marys iced with dirt and ash. Hulaween fancy.

Baitbucket had made a gentleman’s agreement with the neighbors on what would constitute the property line between the two camps. EJ pulled in with hashtag vanlife and ripped back into her usual spot with veracious impunity. Reports that she’d been lost to the loop had been thankfully exaggerated. She was back in the woods with her people. Shortly after, several long recreation vehicles sat blinking in the middle of the fire lane, waiting for someone to move the van, to which EJ and her keys were nowhere to be found. Baitbucket opted to remove himself from the scene and hide at the Hurt Locker on the other side of the field. At precisely the same time, the chicken bus trying to back into a sliver of space behind the Oldsmowagon smashed the pile of Pedro’s possessions with its quarter panel, sending the rest of her junk into the antique grotto and trash emporium. They appeared to be losing control of the area. As so far it had been kept organized and calm but chaos was slowly creeping in. Like Bedouin traders living in a gypsy paradise. Never miss a Wednesday show.

When the shadow people come calling,  through one over your shoulder and help someone find a place to park. There’s room for everyone who uses their inside voice, otherwise your campsite could be the site of a sunrise megaphone meditation of bull whip clinic. Live Oak tribe grew up here. They are the workers, the pirates, the camp musicians. Professional tweakers of the spunion tribe.

Ingress

The White Ninja was hiding in plain sight. They’d camped next to he and the Roberto at Elements and accepted the invite to Hulaween. Good idea Francisco. It boggles the mind how KH could miss Tristan and Cat completely but the White Ninja could run into his ex girlfriend seven times a day. Just lucky I guess. Likely he got tossed and ended up at the Billy Strings/Sierra squared WrestleMania.

7:50

Seat’s Taken. Did you witness the various iterations of Forrest Gump running around the venue with runner, table tennis, Vietnam, Bubba Gump… all zipping alone through the campsites and coming together in the venue.

At some point he believed the Iceman was trying to smuggle himself in or was lurking about and using the megaphone he put a bounty on his head hoping to influence some kind of man-hunt. It was all for moot. No one was actually listening and subsequently the megaphone was taken away and returned to its rightful owners. Sad face emoji. Tough titty said the kitty but the milk tastes good.

In the gathering of lovers,

there is no high, no low,

no smart, no ignorant, no special assembly,

no grand discourse, no proper schooling required.

There is no master, no disciple.

This gathering is more like a drunken party,

full of tricksters, fools, mad men and mad women.

This is a gathering of lovers.

– Rumi

El Scorpio was working the Circle K? Trading Post when a young wookling came up and began dancing barefoot on his inventory. He broke a couple of masks before spitting on the pile and and suggesting his spit was worth some intrinsic value. When asked if he could trade a hug for a product, El Scoripio starred at him disgusted and screamed, “Don’t touch me”. Beat it hippie. Hugs don’t pay the bills.

El Scorpio the Consigliere and Hippies Dressed as Cops…

He was so proud of his new shower and why not? Fancy people deserve VIPness treatment. One second it’s a private place to wash that stink off, the next minute Blanco is standing outside of the shower tent hunkered over as her long curls are caught in the zipper. Naked and screaming as she slowly is being devoured by fire ants. Welcome to the portal.

The Consigliere and Blanco raided the Frick Frack table late night. EJ had already fleeced them but they ended up with his glowing scorpion belt buckle. “They took everything from me.” By the time he walked into camp he was wearing nothing but a barrel with old leather straps over the shoulders. He still had his scorpion bola tie but it was obvious the cards hadn’t fallen his way. Probably Sheriff Phoenix, he’s a sly one and has to be watched. Keeper of lost souls indeed. Blanco was dressed as a cop and along with the flashlight she had hippies walking the straight line all night. Gambling is an addiction but the Consigliere knew when to stop. He’d been trying to win the antique bingo spinner for Pedro’s bingo extravaganza that would never actually happen in a million-trillion years. Everyone was still on the lookout for the scorpion belt buckle, but the Frack thugs were keeping it close to the proverbial vest.

Something was wrong with the Consigliere and Lucy knew it. He looked at her with his Katy Perry lizard eye, its sideways blinking lens.  Good luck finding a Japanese woman to suck out your Wal Mart contacts when it gets logged behind your troglodyte skull. Around five am security scooted in to shut down the El Scorpio request happy hour. Quiet time? Methinks a hard no. This is Hulaween and we are camped in the dirt with the forest people. This shop is open 24 hours a day.

The Art of the Disco Nap

He slept on the outdoor rug with two squishmallows, Kierra’s inflatable couch in Ka’aoli’s kitchen. Friday night it was a lawn chair at Mateo’s house and the passenger side of someone’s unlocked vehicle. He woke up and the sky was changing color. The phone read 7:30 but he didn’t know if it was am or pm. Which way were the bats heading? He wasn’t sure what day it was and for that matter he didn’t care. He was lost in the nebula and it felt good. All was well in the world.

George and Blancito led the way with nightly homegrown camp music. As per usual, Big Betty would shake her curves and invite other men to slap her. If they had only known the dumpster fire that would come with the pleasure. Something that could be felt down to the bone of the bone. Someone from Cheese. Love. noted how everyone shared at Hulaween and she had never seen a festival with such a collaborative spirit.

Beware the Expectation Monster. It was the warmest time of the day when the Consigiliere offered him the honey. Lord knows he needed it. His voice had been gone since Thursday and it felt like he’d guzzled an ashtray colada. The honey, which unknowingly had been sitting in the sun all day, squirted down his gullet with surprising force and ease. Bucket realized only a few seconds later that it was some kind of spicy pepper honey and he was the victim of a premeditated and cowardly attack by a pathetic man-child. Others would suggest the fake hundreds were the worst joke of the week, but the honey was worser.

Spunderella claimed she was a “professional cuddler” but a nube, shocked even to hear Werewolves of London and coming to understand that no drug is ever as potent at lack of sleep. Mikey won at wook bingo when he unzipped his tent only to find Baitbucket rolled up in his bed and sleeping soundly.

Kudos to the Soup Kitchen for winning the Mississippi blue ribbon first place award for best top knot. Second place went to some Lil d with his, “samurai fun house gremlin” and for the passing by hipster who wouldn’t consent to enter the contest. For his efforts, or lack thereof, he shall receive a single lump of dried dog poop and a lifetime of anguish. Congratulations to all our winners.

 A Hulaween tradition, all the hippies found their way to Joe Russo’s Almost Dead and a Terrapin closer that left a lingering tingle that would remain all weekend. Terrapin Thursday? The Friday lineup was one of the best days of music ever. Bucket spent the whole afternoon and night wandering from camp to camp visiting friends and making new ones. His lineup included Free Range Strange, Roosevelt Collier Band, String Cheese, String Cheese, Les Claypool’s Fearless Flying Frog Brigade, Trey Anastasio Band, Goose and Lespecial closing it out. Damn son, that’s a full menu.

Alley Cat was reported cutting off people’s hair without permission. She’d found her way back to Hobo Kamp after last year’s sunrise megaphone meditation and was apparently saving the hair for some kind of putrid shrine. Red flag. Bandera roja. She even managed to pull a little from security which, once again did a spectacular job of moving people along safely and without hassle. The lines were short and the attitudes were gracious. Saving lives, one hippy at a time.

Brocoliah and Justin owned the east side of the street where her leave on/take one produced the occasional airplane bottle of Rumplemintz. She and George joined for primordial groundscore Monday and there is nothing in the world more fun. Lucy’s legs were bloated, her feet tingling and scarred, and she had strawberries on her hips from wiping out the electric bike in the sugar sand. Her fingernails contained all manner of filth and her feet? You already know, hooves black as pitch. They were misplacing things as fast as they were finding them. Short term memory had definitely taken a backseat to free roaming brown outs. The weatherman called for a high chance of scattered gravity storms.

Randy Savagery and The Strange. The Florida Fam showed up en masse for the Free Range Strange set on Friday at the Campground Stage. That’s right big boy, it’s the savagery that makes us randy. And don’t get us started about the beast on bluegrass cajon. The prisons in Florida must have revolving doors. The whole show was filled with fierce music, dancing and family fun. One of the best shows of the weekend to be sure. They may have missed their late night Strange set at Kamp Happiness due to the fact they were already eating fried hamsters in Cuzco. There is no more joyous sound than Sunnie Rae’s voice lifting through the Suwannee forest till the wee hours of the morning. Boom. Mop wig drop.

“I thank the Lord for the people I have found.”

                                                                                                                     Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters, E. John.

In memorandum for Clayopheus I the original Roanoke Mafia (Shawsvegas Annex) and premier Hulaween creature. His ghost and many others danced alongside the living through the weekend.

Obviously, there was something wrong with him. He couldn’t seem to get out of the ants. He continued to scream the scream of a man who was mired in a helpless maze of deeply personal confusion. Ross starred at the vivid scene with sadness.. There was really nothing he could do for the fool. After he’d calmed down a bit, he was asked to move his vehicle backwards a few feet for Jenn and Ross. It shouldn’t have been such a chore but he was having some kind of fit and his brain had atrophied to that of an infant. The car was backing up much faster than he’d expected it should. There was little room for error as he, unable to find the brake pedal, rolled backwards toward the open door of the school bus. Where was the damned brake pedal? The car continued to steam backwards and as he finally leaned hard onto the emergency brake the vehicle slowly came to rest just a few inches from the bus. Take these keys. Get the behind me Satan.

River Pirates

Gandalf the Greasy and the Suwanee River Pirates raised the bar at this year’s celebration coming away with thirteen Jolly Rogers at last count. Planning combined with practiced execution makes this crew one of the most formidable anywhere. Their twenty-four hour security team patrols the square where the booty is displayed and in tandem with the outer ring of buried Alaskan badger traps, it’s a rare bird that wins back her freedom. What lesson did the River Pirates teach everyone this year? Don’t bring your Jolly Roger to Live Oak if you care about it. Keep it at home under your bed. Mail it to your grandmother up north. Fold it up and hide it in a time capsule for a thousand years, just don’t bring it to Suwannee. There are pirates in these woods and they follow their own code of conduct. Production will always get the worst of it. Crew One, James Thomas? Yes all day. Pangea? Yes more. You will always get the worst of it and for you, no quarter will be given. Sorry, not sorry. Go have a Four Loco. There are no cherry pickers in hell.

Amigos of Pedro, Serious Homesteading and A Mexican Cheese Wedding

Her jacket was made from the upholstery of a 1982 sofa bed from Sarasota. All she was missing was the grotesquely over sized partical board entertainment shelf and a linty pocket of old, hard candy. The Captain’s hat was only for aesthetics as she’d lost her captain’s licence running generic viagara and Mayan artifacts through the Bay of Honduras. The pocket watch was still on Chillicothe time. Summer Camp executive. Still, through all the missteps of life found the uncommon streetwalker laying in the pile of discarded trash she called her front yard. Mike had to learn the hard way, when you move next door to someone, you can’t know that they’re going to leave all of their kid’s plastic toys outside forever. Just go ahead and leave the Christmas lights up, it’s already trashy. There was no method to the madness and it got worse as the weekend progressed. And then the Mexican finds a perfect pair of Birkinstocks in the garbage? Likely left in the ball pit by some fraternity boy during late night, tag-team “cougar hour”.

It was the best of times. There was the unsanctioned wedding during the String Cheese set and afternoon dips in the moldy ball pit. Used whipits and warm beer lay around the campsite alsongside other items she brought for the Trading Post. An old tire? Brown flowers? It had a complete Sanford and Son vibe about it and that’s how it would stay.

It wasn’t all a dusty Mexican flea market. There was the pornography section in the prison library, the leave 0ne, take one Mr. Clinkies and they’d brought over a cabana to put near the ball pit. Across the street it was late night road flares creating bubble sand hippy art? And salvation for all the beach goers in the form of the Eucharist? No. This does not compute. It only happens at Hulaween and only by people to the extreme of the deflated rainbow spectrum. Saving souls, one hippy at a time.

Show me what you got!

Circle K? Trading Post. The happy couple did disappear on one of the busiest days of the year. Probably in Costa Rica lounging on a hanging bed in their honeymoon chickee. Luckily the Consigliere was there to pick up the slack and work doubles Saturday and Sunday. The cream always rises to the top. The Sunday night Circle K? proved to be as active as ever and hot trades were the order of the day. Odesza drumsticks and set list from Bonnaroo? VIP shower coupons for Peach? Undersized Green Team vest for Electric Forest? It just goes on. Find the hagglin’ post at your next festival. Okeechobee rag for Pac Man game? Hmmm. Who is watchin’ the store?

2:37

Mateo’s drums and Benjamin’s guitar could be heard across the Pine Field as live music filled the honeypot all weekend. In a festival with a history of late night renegades and sunrise dj, the last few years have shown a real growth in homemade campfire music.Who was that vanilla savage playing the reed accordion like an Ecuadorian street musician? He still owed $40 for the apple pie moonshine and those cracker hoodlums took the little red rooster as collateral. And just after he’d paid the ransom to get it back from those Axton bitches and the Blue Ridge dumpster fire. Lil d tried to come in hard with a leg drop and about blew off the rooster’s entire head and neck. Luckily he only weighed 56 pounds and harmlessly bounced away into the dust and brambles. Luckily he ran with a chicken doctor. He really needed to find a better class of friends.

Phobias are one of the most common mental illnesses in the United States. Typical symptoms of phobias can include nausea, trembling, rapid heartbeat, feelings of unreality, and being preoccupied with the fear object. Exposure therapy is a type of therapy in which you’re gradually exposed to the things, situations and activities you fear. Hulaween is an open floodgate of serious medicine.

10 Phobias that can be impacted by Hulaween immersion/exposure therapy

• Ataxophobia: Fear of disorder or untidiness (Visit Pedro’s trash grotto and lukewarm ball pit)
• Dendrophobia: Fear of trees (It’s Outerroo for you. Or eat a heroic dose, sit next to a turkey oak and see what happens)
• Erotophobia: Fear of sex (Not a problem since you have ablutophobia. Or is this one of those weekends when you’re “not really looking”. Please. You be playin’ hard to want.)
• Insectophobia: Fear of insects (Cuddling with pet ticks and Squishmallows on the outdoor rug is pure gold.)
• Thughophobia: Fear of unknowingly trying to use a fake $100 in Cracker Barrel with your family.
• Nyctophobia: Fear of the dark (Second grade called and said “pull it together”.)
• Catagelophobia: Fear of being ridiculed (Do not leave your tent)
• Samhainophobia: Fear of Halloween (Welcome to the portal.)
• Trypophobia: Fear of holes (Reality will be waiting when you finally emerge)
• Ablutophobia: Fear of bathing (Try the 4:30 am boy shower for lukewarm water.)

The Quinn’s Wedding. Impassable Palisades and Morning Waves. The Kitty Titties were having a wedding. The Quinns had found each other and he’d learned when to be quiet. Lucy, Bfly and the Ninja headed to the chapel for the ceremony only to find it had been taken over by the Mural Maze and there was no wedding present. There were three weddings happening simultaneously and hopes of finding the Quinns was slim. Hopeless and deflated, some informed stranger pointed them toward the ceremony inside. They poorly attempted to climb onto the ramparts but the Alamo was easier to get into than this place. The front door was locked, they couldn’t dig under and they couldn’t scale the palisades. Through the gaps in the wood they could see inside and what appeared to be a young boy/man dressed like a short, golden troll. A few moments later the happy couple and court would emerge ready to embark on a life of marriage bliss.

For the second year KH has done their business next to the Titty Kitties. The Kitties show up for Sunrise Reflection and adult meditations in G. In a world of spikes and troughs on the cardiograph of life, the goal is the short wave. Thank you to the original Monkey King for the sunrise sessions. You can’t always choose your neighbors in the forest, sometimes they choose you. Don’t worry, Monroe trash of the seventeenth order, you can eat crackers in my bed anytime, baby.

Keep up with the Hulaween website and check out their social media channels on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and YouTube. Thanks to Bfly for her wildlife photographs and contributing writers Lil d and the Consigliere. The stolen megaphone has a wook wranglers sticker on it so keep a keen eye out. Photo of Sunnie Ray by @onnamaya.
Ed. note: No part of the Farm Field is quiet camping. No sir. Go anywhere else.

Of course this is merely one version of the story. One point of view in a endless plane of points of view. In some ways it changes a little each year and in many ways, it remains the change. Believe what you want. Who could, in good faith, trust these blistered visions from the minds and bodies of people removing sleep, food and water from their diet. Under no circumstances would any of the aforementioned be considered a credible witness. For now, the Hobo Kamp continues to live in the shade of the Farm Field, right next to the Pine Field and not far from the bat house. C’mon Magellan, it’s one of the largest bat houses in the southeast United States. Follow the guano.

Epilogue: They were sharing saline snot with him against his will. He contracted the wook flu. This party is not for the faint of heart. It’s outrageous abuse framed in equal parts savage love and perfect practice. You thought you were the host and you were actually the host. As a vector, mosquitoes don’t get tapeworms. It’s not your fault just because you never wash your hands. It’s all about the weakest link in the most primordial sense. Don’t let the party pound you into sugar sand. You’re stronger than you know. For Christmas he would be asking for a stomach pump, iron lung, blood transfusion and Flor de Caña iv drip. It was time to head to the Villages and dry out for a few days. His mother would beat him in golf and then cut out his dreadlocks in between deep, coma-like sleeps. You are healed. Thanks Hula for providing a safe place for folks to let their hair down and howl at the moon.

Visit some of our Hulaween articles from the vault. Ten Years of Suwannee Hulaween. Dance of the Monkey Kings. Cheese. Love. Sauce. The Kamp Ha Penis Dumpster Fire. and visit our spots on the etherweb at Facebook, Instagram and X/Twitter. Thanks. Science is real.

Thanks for keeping the wook wranglers near and dear to your festival heart. We love different festivals for different reasons but it always comes back to family. Hulaween is a family festival and the Spirit of Suwannee Music Park is our home park. Thanks to everyone who contributed to what was an unforgettable party. It takes a village of idiots. It was a family reunion and a complete get all the way down. Stay close. Don’t get lost. There’s plenty to unpack here.

Look for the Hobo Kamp at Suwannee Resonate.                                                         wranglers y Mateo

The post Immersion Therapy at Suwannee Hulaween “23 appeared first on wook wranglers.

Other than a few moderate wrinkles the road was mostly going as planned. It was an ambitious plan but the Oldsmowagon was still moving forward even if all the warning lights looked like the dashboard of a space shuttle. Lila mused that if her body came with warning lights, they would certainly be blinking. But they were moving too fast and loose to get bogged down in classic themes such as caution and responsibility. It had already been a Florida spring festival season straight from the forgotten pages of the lost scrolls. Kamp Happiness had represented at Maddox Ranch Medicine Show, Spring Fling, Suwannee Rising, Orange Blossom Jamboree and lord knows the stink from Fool’s Engagement wasn’t going to come off for some time. Molly was pretty sure somewhere in there she lost third grade.

They ended up in south Florida ready to get real jobs for a change. The coffers were empty and all the music equipment was still in Boone. Where would they land? Whether bartenders, tour guides or flesh merchants, it really didn’t matter. To Lucy it all sounded pretty crappy. It looked like they were really ready to go straight, work fifty hours a week for a $600 room in someone else’s place and still be broke. While that sounded like solid thinking for a change Fort Myers just wasn’t ready to cooperate and after a balmy and extended spring it was finally starting to get warm in the tropics. Sleeping on the couch of the last angry cellist and admitted toad killer, Lucy was getting antsy and not interested in a real job anyway. She would soon be turning fifty and and as she saw it, her hardest days of hustling for the man were behind her.

As the wells were drying up on Fort Myers Beach the hard truth remained that the very next weekend they had two media tickets to Mountain Music Festival in New River George, WV and that was impossible to ignore. Sometimes the pulp just writes itself. It seemed prudent to load Big Betty into the passenger seat of the Oldsmowagon and set off in search of Appalachian adventure with Brood X.. The weather would be reasonable in the mountains this time of year and eventually they were hoping to get seasonal in the right direction.

Bell’s Palsy is no excuse for bad behavior.

After the Mountain Music Festival in West Virginia, which could only be described as an O-ring blow out, they headed straight down 311 to Field and Furrow Farms in New Castle, VA with its the lightning bugs and frog ponds high in the Appalachian Mountains. Their organic vegetable gardens and mobile chicken coop would offer safe haven and a place to paint rocks while they licked their wounds. Lucy’s mother, who’d been concerned with her ability to shower on the road would be fascinated to find that now they were working strictly with creek baths and hippy shampoo.

On the banks of Craig’s Creek, New Castle is a a rural hamlet on the Virginia-West Virginia border. With three cops (one trooper, one county and one city) two restaurants and zero bars, save for the Moose Lodge ten miles away which Bucket was seriously considering joining, they figured it was a good place to lay low. Lucy was still sipping off Emmitt’s Gummy Bear moonshine and had managed to procure a little Virginia weed, which was supposedly going to be legal in that state as of July 1st but supplies were ever dwindling and rationing had become necessary.

Summer is the season to build stages, clear brush and drink rum. Bri the hillbilly princess, drove the party down to Spirit Haven where they helped build the new main stage at Front Porch Fest. Molly was under the impression that a little volunteer time would get her in the line-up the following year. They were both very excited to see Katie’s Butthole and its potential was obvious. People were still working at Floydfest almost every weekend, getting ready for that party later in the month. It was all coming together. The summer festival season in Virginia is interactive and completely time consuming. Molly couldn’t understand how people could have real jobs and live the summer festival season. Virginia is for thugs. Like a freight train of stinking funky fun steaming straight into the middle of the brain hole. Splooshness.

Their next stop on the tour was to be Red Wing Roots Festival. They hadn’t been picked up for media so they weren’t yet sure how they were going to get in. It had been a while since either had to pay for a festival ticket and as usual neither of them had any money. But how now brown cow? Tamiami’s solution had always been to wear a tool belt and carry a clipboard and of course neither of them were above crawling in through the woods but these were serious times, festivals needed all the help they could get and Lila really didn’t have the energy for those kinds of childish shenanigans. Besides she still had scars on her leg from sneaking into Lockn’.

Were they going to have to volunteer? Like common street thugs? Ye screaming Gods it might end up like Hulaween and fighting off diarrhea Monday morning while sifting through soggy trash bins for aluminum cans. This time it would have to be better. “Oh don’t worry” they said, “You’ll both get to work under the Pickle.” Whatever the hell that meant. Molly had been in desperate foxholes with creatures like him before and knew better than to trust the words of a deranged man-beast. In the long run, everything was going to be lemon squeezy. Unlike many, Lucy was able to work effectively and comfortably within the framework of the traditional acid high. Promoters often provided her with a daily ration just to keep her at an “even-keel”.

Follow Molly, Lila and the wranglers as they drive the Kamp Happiness conestoga wagon broke and blind through the Virginia mountains in search of epic adventure; music and fun. Red Wing Roots awaits, with Floydfest just around the corner. And next month it doesn’t get any easier. Summer Camp and Mi Kulture straight into Backwoods. Oh the humanity. Molly’s advice, “Skip the job interview and spend the day at Cascades Fall Trailhead.”

Check out the Backwoods at Mulberry Mountain  preview article and revisit the inane gibberish of Mountain Music Festival. Lyme disease is no excuse for bad behavior.

“Walk before they make you run”, Keith Richards

The post The Summer Mountain Festival Lyme Disease Tour appeared first on wook wranglers.

“Are you there God? It’s me, Thatcher?”

His typing was worse than usual. It was always slow and sloppy but now the keys were sticking and glued with white Russian spilled earlier that morning. The old gypsy woman had been right when she’d cackled that he’d be dragged through the cheese grater. In the great scheme of things it really didn’t matter. There was more Kahlua on top of the fridge and the news from Old Dominion was unexpectedly promising. Somewhere between bad choices, good luck and Covid-19 many counties, including Nelson County were letting convicted felons go scot-free. Reckon they had bigger fish to fry and why not? Times were weird and there is no such thing as social justice in the land of the Watusi. Maybe next time tough guy. Like most thugs occasionally dancing on the dark side of the law, Thatcher knew there would always be a chance for a next time. Wise to make allies of common sense and adult caution from here on out. Nobody wants to throw out bail. That’s been proven.

There is a wind blowing out of the south and on it rides the promise of music festivals. Thatcher Owen Mullins was  frothing and ready to strap on his festicles. It might almost be time to turn the day job into the side hustle and get back into the minutiae of the thing. He longed for the full days of rabid fun and long nights without sleep. Welcome dear hearts to The Relative Importance of Sleep at a Festival.

Live Oak, FL-Thatcher and Moonshine Gary were the last men standing. It had been a brutal day of festival revelry packed dense with the hardest brand of loose fun but now everyone else was finally asleep and the fire was slowly going out. Campfire music could be heard coming from Slopprygrass, not too far down the road. Grabbing the guitar, the water jug filled with moonshine and two Natural Lights they stumbled toward the noise. The sun would be coming up soon.

The Relative Importance of Sleep at a Festival

It happens to every festivarian eventually. Morning arrives early, right in the middle of last night’s party. Where did the time go? Camp mates begin rolling out of their tents and sunrise fresheners return all bubbly, having enjoyed the last of the hot water. Folks start brewing coffee and coughing up morning music along with last night’s dirt and ashes. Did that meltdown really happen last night? Where to go from here? The choices are many and the road is rocky. Maybe a breakfast burrito and and a fat slab of Moose’s Washington mushroom caramel. Perchance a nip of Knob Creek and Yonder Mountain on the Field Stage at one. There really is no rest for the weary.

Thatcher knew in his heart of hearts there was no good time to sleep. There was no easy answer to the question. He simply had too much to see and do. Too much music. Too many people. Just the walking would constitute great amounts of time and miles. It’s one of the things that drives the festival. Twenty-four hours of straight up action-packed goodness. When his camp got quiet he knew someone, somewhere was still awake and getting all the way down. He wondered if it was better to have control over his sleep and utilize a rest strategy or just sit back and see where and when the bomb drops? Who could tell where the fall would happen? Maybe some kid’s hammock, a stranger’s tent or an Indian blanket during Oteil and Friends. It’s shameful but in the face of poor planning, weird things sometimes happen to good people. Even Oteil.

Music?

In terms of perspective and priorities, all of the other factors were never more than ancillary to the actual music on stage. This is a music festival dagnabbit. Depending on the festival, there can be shows running all night and day. Woo hoo! Thatcher was not about to miss the four am My Morning Jacket show. No sir. Saturday night with Cheese and Panic? Go on. Govt. Mule in the field, The Floozies at the back field stage, the Tipper 4:20 show and Greensky anywhere. It might be time for forget about cooking and go find an gyro. Some things are just non-negotiables.

Working/Volunteering?

In most normal cases the ability to manage real work responsibilities requires a modicum of rest. Campsite hijinks often fall flat in the potentially hectic work environment. By the time the supervisor asks, “Are you alright?” it may already be too late. You’ve already ran the golf cart into the saw palmettos and the toothpaste can’t go back in the tube. Those in and around your campsite might not understand the fact you will be parking cars in the sun for twelve hours the next day. When faced with these kinds of shenanigans, simply move your camp next door to the Sherrif’s annex trailer. No one will likely follow.

 

View this post on Instagram

 

A post shared by Jason Nail (@nailtravels)

Music Sessions

• Morning music: Sunrise bluegrass gospel with coffee, Tia Maria and a cup of salvation. Don’t worry, you didn’t die last night. It’s like walking into a Guatemalan bar, just start small and grow. Louvin Brothers and Taj Majal are a fine way to kick things off. Soapy is when it only takes a drink or two to catch you back up with last night’s party. That’s what you are. Soapy.
• Post-breakfast/midday: Maybe a little of whatever passes for sleep and the early morning moonshine hasn’t sunk in yet. This might be as good as it gets. John Prine, cajones and song books are allowed.
• Late night session: The picks have been lost. The tuners have been passed around. Musicians ease in and slide out. The circle stays fluid and the music never stops. How good is your memory? One verse and one chorus doth make a song. This is the part of the night when fiddle players start standing on one leg. Be wary. Both the harmony and the circle have gotten tighter. Welcome to the Experimentation Station. Sometimes that which the brain forgets, the fingers remember.

Baitbucket was getting older and increasingly held together by opiods and titanium. Like his sister he could sleep anywhere and anytime and there was usually a gravity storm looming somewhere on the distant horizon. He could crash in the middle of drum circle occasionally waking up in the wrong golf cart. The tent next to the fire must be able to sleep through the storm. –Sans Souci

Lucienda tried to sneak off around three in the morning but couldn’t rest amidst the constant jabbering. How she wished she’d taken those earplugs when they were offered. She knew he should have camped further away, back in the woods with the old people. Who knows? There was always a calamitous chance that some madman was going to pull up with an accordion, squat directly next to your tent, and eventually urinate on everything. The festival is not always the best place to catch up on rest. Wait a few days until everyone is gone then enjoy the solace that comes with the post-party and beyond.

Assistance

Coming back from the stage Thatcher found a small bag of something white and crystalline on the ground. Although universally considered an unsafe practice, he’d always thought of himself as a human test kit and this groundscore would be no different. Unsure of what it was he was entirely confident it would help keep him awake. Naturally he hoped it was cocaine. He was looking to hook up with a hippy girl later and a little blow never hurt. The plan would be to save it until late night when it could be helpful at Frick Frack Blackjack but it would always be gone by lunch.

Science?

It is a fact. The human body can go a few days without sleep but each day comes with a cost and It’s not long before things begin to go slightly sideways. The boatman says if you want to cross you must pay. The eyes once sparkling and clear finally darken and sink into a hazy murk.

At some point after days of abuse and little rest Thatcher literally turned into a zombie. His once healthy skin color had darkened to a mute grey and his red eyes stared out from behind black rings. No worries though. This was a good kind of zombie. He moved pretty slow and was only hunting for lighters. When his camp went dark he would hit the road and look for signs of lurking parties.

Where’s the Party?

He assumed that everyone attending the festival wanted to be his friend. His pit bull was excellent at sniffing out parties. They knew that tapestries were just for keeping out cops dressed like hippies. Normal people would always be welcome. To prove he wasn’t a cop dressed like a hippy, he would do some of their drugs. That should set their minds at rest. Or better yet, he would share some of his. A tested sure-fire way to make new friends.

When visiting a new camp, if he hadn’t been acknowledged after a few minutes he would start considering his exit strategy. Sometimes it’s just time to get. Conversely, if he was invited in and offered a shot of Jaegermiester that was a solid indication he’d turned to the right page. There are many signs when one is willing to read the landscape. (ed note. Boatright-Herring)

Thatcher knew that in the end it wouldn’t matter. All he could do was try his best. If he wasn’t taking care of himself he wouldn’t be able to take care of anyone else. Sound words from the criminally insane. No one can catch every show and find find every friend. But that’s the game and we are the players. “If you’re going to buy a ticket you might as well see the show.”  -C.W.

Keep up with the wranglers as we steer toward a new festival season, heading south to pick up the music trail. Might as well, might as well. The weather’s crappy everywhere else. As always, Florida’s spring nights are perfect for festivals and coming this way is Maddox Ranch Medicine Show, Fools Engagement and Suwannee is still working toward Spring Reunion. Check out the Florida State Bluegrass Festival April 9-10 in Perry and always keep looking forward to the summer and Floydfest. Visit their landing page for tickets, lineup and information. Thanks again for making the wook wranglers your festival signpost and be sure to check out some of our other articles including an adventure from the archives, High Country Journal: Trampled By Pickles.

Remember, throw Frisbees, not grenades.

The post The Relative Importance of Sleep at a Festival appeared first on wook wranglers.

“It was coming right at me.”

“Massive yet graceful. Unclear as to whether its intent was dangerous or one of mere curiosity. By the time I figured it out it would be too late. It’s yellow pentagon shaped eyes were locked wide and from the corners of its mouth ran a foamy dribble. I remember being very afraid but at the same time strangely calm. If the end was to come in a frenzied slather of pickle juice and blood then so be it. I was ready.”      -high country journal 9/20

Welcome back beautiful people. It’s been a hot minute since we met at the water cooler to catch up on hyperbole and fake news. With the absence of festival gibberish the wranglers have settled into new fusion recipes and trips around Grandfather Mountain. In the party interim many folks have had to fall back on old jobs. Some have had to learn new crafts and others have kept on slingin’ and hustlin’.

In an effort to be caught up in the very vortex of the party season Lucy was beginning to relive old habits and say “heck yes” to every invitation. The weather was still perfect in the Appalachians but the clock was ticking. In the forth quarter of the pandemic folks were trying to slide one more camping trip in before the witch of October showed up. For a few more weeks, the Piedmont would still be where the climate suits your clothes so it was time to make things happen. The following nonsense is a round-up dance card of the recent entanglements in the grassy knolls of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Welcome to the High Country Journal: Trampled By Pickles.

It had already been an interesting summer. Lucy had seen some weird things in her travels but this had been a different version of weird. Or rather the lack of a certain kind of weird. She was missing her extended family during the summer drought and the weekly phone alerts were constant reminders that she was supposed to be mud camping somewhere. Where was the crazy uncle from Massachusetts that all the girls swooned over? Where were the cousins from Michigan and Salem, Columbia and Deland? She was missing the late night cajon solos and wook trap glow sticks. How was she supposed to witness and chronicle the accounts of life around the fire with no scene to follow? There was a palpable guff with the absence of episodic forest gatherings. It had gotten pretty weird.

The last parties she could actually remember were The Everglades Roots Festival, Okeechobee and Brainquility. Florida and Guatemala were still the best places for winter festivals. Delta Lot and a few others towed the line but since then the summer had become a desert void of both live music and outdoor camping venues. No Floozies breakfast, no Greensky lunch and no camping with the Mimosa Sisters. What the absolute hell? Always remember dear reader that the darkest hour is just before dawn. As bizarre as things had gotten Lucy could see signs that the worm was finally beginning to turn.

At last, new opportunities began rearing their sexy heads. Pickle parties, private camp outs and small festivals would be the order of the day for the near future. And why not? Let’s just take it easy. We all know where this goes. Baby steps back into the elevator.

Craig’s Creek

The September tilt began at Eagle Rock Virginia, right on the banks of Craig’s Creek. Thanks go out to the Kamp Happiness Roanoke Mafia Annex for their preparation efforts. Salem is for thugs. Welcome to Microfest 2020. The small event covered a few wooded acres and included everything a solid festival needs, from drum circles to bluegrass jams, fire spinners to drywall spackling chili. Even the warm afternoons turned downtown perfect as participants found their way to the creek to stack rocks and spill cheap beer in the cool water.

Just another gathering of folks who camped next to each other in some earlier time. It was when two fires turned into one. But aren’t they all? Ceptin’ now everyone owned vans or Aerostreams. So fancy. Lucy realized they were van wooks to be sure but they were known on occasion throw down the low country boil and that was hard to argue with.

Family Reunions

She was reminded of growing up and attending large family reunions. From either side of the family they usually included music, food and fun. Memorial Day at Mama Lila’s house on Fort Morgan Beach rivaled them all. Cousins and fireworks, sand dunes and beer. Lucy loved her people and it was something she looked forward to all the time.

As she got older music festivals began to take the place of the family reunion. The parents and the children were already there and new friends showed up all the time. At some point it evolved from one particular festival to all of them. The same thing was happening every time. Family be everywhere and she was ready to camp, dance and sing with all of them, slowly adopted and assimilated over years of festivals and late night human groundscores.

Are you not going to eat that pickle?

“Nothing is worth more than laughter. It is strength to laugh and to abandon oneself, to be light. Tragedy is the most ridiculous thing.”       -Frida Kahol

The Great American Campout

And then there was that party on the mountain…

Sketchy recollections were all that could be mustered. Most of the banter and “hilarity” had been lost and forgotten in the depths of the nebula. The scattered shards of memory came together to form a hazy patchwork of idiot gibberish laced with curious epiphanies. The epoch that continued in the heavy mountain rain had been long overdue. Firewood sat soaking while beer cups filled back up with diluted PBR. They sang, danced and drank banana moonshine. Sure, they got run off the porch stage after Lucy insisted on “getting to the bottom of things” with someone else’s grease box but these things can be expected when agreeing to this brand of liberal behavior. It all starts in the home. Like pop always said, “Keep your pickle dry and your powder hard”.

The vending wooks at Spat By Kat made a bizarre yet pleasant addition to the frivolity. Their late-night fan popping clinic was a rousing success while their departure by hot air balloon was delayed when it was found that rather than helium, the balloon had been filled with nitrous oxide. At last report, they and several new friends were still camping on the mountain but the size of the balloon had dramatically decreased.

“Buy some stuff.” You didn’t think you were going home with that money did you?”

Visit the Spat By Kat website and check out their social media pages on Instagram and Facebook.

She considered the initial festival where two souls finally meet. The awakening where they find each other in a sea of hippies. They managed, across great odds and the vastness of the universe to find themselves siting next to each other in cheap beach chairs around the fire in some hidden camp. This is the acorn that becomes the oak. At this party new friends were falling out of the oaks like dead cats. Once again, things were happening exponentially. You know how it goes. If you build it they will come.

“Well, it’s either kiss me or kill me, that’s how I see it.”
― Tom Waits

Teepees and Pallets

Lucy was sleeping in the little bed that had been built in the back of the Subaru. High Country camouflage. After two days of rain she was ready for a warm pallet. One built with Grandma’s quilts, afghans and a bevy of big pillows. The best pallets use a feather mattress as their base and are filled with cousins.

What she had here in the small hatchback was similar to a pallet but she needed more space and it was still monsooning. Where was Clay’s Econoline when you needed it? The tent was leaking and the blankets in it were heavy and wet. It was sloppy business and she was close to the breaking point. Finally on Saturday she tried to take up residence in the ladies restroom and had it converted into a comfortable living space before she was ultimately discovered. She could be heard screaming, “I was right in the middle of doing the dishes!” as she was escorted out by park personnel. There were still vans and teepees everywhere she could sneak into. She wondered if it was possible lock the door on a teepee?

“Pickles in the rain. Raining on me”      -Hank Williams

“It’s not my fault you used a nebulous pronoun.”

Never miss a Tuesday show. Lucy was on to Butler, Tennessee and the post party on Watauga Lake. Dominated by pirate ships, Don Julio and leftover festival food it was obvious this think tank of festivarians would be able to solve some, if not all of the world’s problems. All they needed was Bojangles, cheap whiskey and time.

Watauga Lake

With the sad new that Toots Hibbert had passed the crew listened to the new album “Got to Be Tough” as they sailed in circles across the lake. They followed bear cubs that paddled ahead of them. After three days in Butler Lucy could no longer trust her eyes. She’d seen a heron with one foot, a portent of strange things to come. Maybe the prophecy was still unraveling. The marathon of abuse had taken its toll and she was obviously out of practice. The whole affair could be collectively labeled a “stretching exercise” with harder days to come. She’d be ready.

‘When life gives you pickles, make lemonade.”

Trampled by Pickles

Lucy was coming to terms with her current reality. The new “normal”. The pickle was everywhere and she was not going to be able to escape it. Days later, she could still smell its vinegar stink in her hair. From this moment forward she realized that she was going to be working within an entirely new and excitingly different framework. If that’s how it’s going to be? Fine. Sit up. Breathe. Wipe the pickle juice off on your jeans. Climb up out of the flotsam and jetsam and go kill it.

Together.

“Keep your friends close and your dabs closer.”

“Hey Magellan, you’re sailing in circles again. Yes that’s the same deck light. I’m no privateer, but I think that’s the bank just ahead. Maybe you should let me drive.” The post party is where weak brain cells start to run out of your ears and nose. Congratulations. For your effort the dogs left you something in the coach. Impossible to tell if it’s diarrhea or vomit, but it’s in your flip flop. You guys like jokes?

Life is all about change and growth. Use the proton splitter if you need to. Don’t be afraid. Walk into the light Carol Anne.

Visit more wook wranger articles including Covid 19 and the Eradication of Wook Flu.

Epilogue

You’ve made it dear reader into the fourth quarter. More small festivals are popping up everyday and next year’s beasts are constantly adding to their line-ups. The Florida crew is putting together Monster Mash and Floydfest sits out on the horizon like a shimmering star. The mother ship on a collision course with your face.

It’s raining today in the high country. There’s still time to string bracelets and paint signs.

You always knew the party would return and when it did, you would be ready. Ready for everything.

The post High Country Journal: Trampled By Pickles appeared first on wook wranglers.

In 2019 the virus known as “wook flu”  accounted for over forty-percent of all post-festival illnesses. Just one year later the cancellation of all festivals and subsequent quarantine due to Covid-19 pandemic have impacted the host population in such a way it appears as if there may be a connection between Covid-19 and the eradication of wook flu.

The arrival of the respiratory virus Covid-19 resulted in the economic shut down of all non-essential businesses and subsequent global quarantine and isolation measures. With all of the festivals canceled there would be no more festival conditions which at times can be downright “sporting”. This season would offer decidedly different tones. Rather than stomping through a flooded restroom barefoot, folks would be out hiking and working around the house.  Daily showers and healthy eating habits have taken the place of ground glitter and expired narcotics.

How was the wook flu spread?

Surrounded by friends and music, dust and pollen, first, second and third-hand smoke turning your lungs into a chemical toilet, it’s a cornucopia of germs. If the big blow comes through, add mud, mold, grass, weeds and other allergens to the festival colada. It’s a lack of sleep and nutrition with singing, screaming, shouting and dehydration. It’s about not showering, sleeping on the ground and serving as a garbage can for drugs, dumplings and sexual partners.

It’s Tuesday after the festival and you’ve been hit by a case of the wook flu. Hopefully you have a warm place to rest. When 700+ thread count isn’t available it’s good to remember that overnight camping is allowed at rest stops in Mississippi. Typical symptoms are similar to that of the common cold. Headaches, sore throat, aches and pains can be expected along with the normal and acceptable losses of serotonin.

Naturally the best treatment includes rest, hydration, NyQuil and old movies.

Check out some of these compelling responses from our latest Action Florida reader’s poll.

“What do you think are the main causes of the wook flu?”

“It’s the dust. Cars and people going through it all day. I’ve got nose goblins for miles. Everybody’s wearing masks. And the campfire smoke. Everywhere I move it followed me all weekend.” It’s a conspiracy I tell you. Are you recording this?” E.E. ,Cape Canaveral

“Lord knows I’m a screamer. From the time I pop out of my tent until I drop from exhaustion you can expect to hear my cackle. Naturally it can only last so long at that rate of energy transfer. The brightest stars burn half as long. That’s why I’m usually hoarse by Saturday night at the latest. Remember, hydration is necessary for proper cell function.” Sunshine, Cape Canaveral

“Me personally, I pretty much stay awake for three days. I do all the drugs I can. I don’t really get sick afterward. Occasionally I have to pee out of the tent screen but other than that I reckon I”m just a machine.” J.M., Deland

“The government purposely released the wook flu from a facility in Denver, CO and is working with the WHO and the Gates Foundation in the hopes of inoculating every hippy on the planet.” Baitbucket, Ft. Myers

“Wook flu? It’s all Steve Little’s fault. Do your research. And play some Jack Johnson.” K.E., Orlando

“There is no wook flu, there is only Zuul.” Shrimphead, Estero Island

“What Shrimphead said.”, T.O.. Falkenburg Road Jail

“Shrimphead is the keymaster!”, V.C., Banyan Bungalow

Many are asking, “How is this happening?”

Pedialyte and Gouda Boys replaced by Thai soup and kale.

Unbelievably connected marathons of time awake replaced by concurrent nights of good sleep in a soft bed.

Psilocybin mushrooms replaced by shitake mushrooms.

Spagettio’s and cigarettes replaced by salads and cigarettes.

Cheap whiskey replaced by less cheap whiskey.

Cheyenne is combing out her dreads.

Sweating in the pit replaced by sweating on the disc golf course.

Walking to find firewood rather than using the ADA transport vehicle.

Yes wook flu, your seed has fallen upon stony rock and shall find no purchase.

Where is the ringworm? Donde esta la tina?

These feet are clean. The fingernails are polished and straight, save a little topsoil from spring planting. In the absence of screaming mad throngs of festival beasts, the wook flu has nowhere to go. Come ye forth and be healed. All is beautiful and right with the world.

.

But beware. While the wook flu may appear to be eradicated, it lingers. From the rivers of North Florida to the rolling hills of Virginia. It lurks still. Quietly buried like a seventeen-year cicada waiting for the right moment to burst forth, where it stalks the perfect festivarian. Five days deep, a tattered and torn wreck of sorts, covered in bruises and leftover ground glitter. Still hoarse and shaking off the internal bleeding and transcendental stretch marks. Something wicked this way comes. It’s not a sprint, it’s a marathon.

Our season of virtual festivals continues with Suwannee Rising Memories: Virtual Festival Scrapbook. Thanks for following the wook wranglers and nailtravels family of platforms. Visit our pages on Instagram, Pinterest and Facebook. Are you not influenced?

Epilogue:

Lucienda considered the state of things and tried to find the silver lining. She knew all this had been good for the forests and fields. The festival hiatus would continue to give the flora and fauna a chance to reclaim and burst ever forth. From Horning’s Hideout to Infinity Downs the terra would be ready when comes the time of the stomp and twirl. She would also be ready when the word came down from on high. Ready to roll. Ready to get down and get it all the way on.

Oh yes. She would be ready.

The post Covid-19 and the Eradication of Wook Flu appeared first on wook wranglers.

Thank you.

This year the wranglers are celebrating FloydFest with a virtual scrapbook sponsored by viewers like you. Thanks to everyone who contributed personal photographs for the montage. Some of them are out of focus. Some of the photographers are out of focus. Some have been taken by professional photographers, many have not. All were willing to share a small piece of their festival memories as part of this larger mosaic. Look deep and see the different stories in the multitude of perspectives. Join the tribes and families with their own unique tales wrapped up in something ultimately common and familiar.

1. Shawna Bass 2019 Slanging beers and bringing cheer! My first FloydFest and first music festival ever
2. Donna Smith Tello 2019
3. Ashley Quick
4. Jerry Friend 2019
5. Bobby Richardson 2019
6. Emily Morton Halsey 2017

Welcome to Delta Lot. If you don’t know now you know. Lost and forgotten are the stories of the off-site camping for Floydfest, with it’s menagerie of poorly trained poi ball twirlers. Is your tent on fire? Watch out for fake news. Who wrangles the wranglers? Maybe you need to adjust your vibration…

1. Emily Morton Halsey 2013, I think
2. Dave Elmore The Polyrhythmics on the Pink Floyd Garden Stage, Friday, July 29, 2016 – FloydFest 16 ~ Dreamweavin
3. Bobby Richardson 2018
4. Louisa Nolen 2014
5. Jim Tomlinson 2015
6. Brandon Murphy

“He claimed to have been abducted by “space people” and was reasonably offended that he had not been probed or at the very least “intimately fondled”.

1. Jerry Friend My photo from 2019 Voyage Home
2. Maggie Blankenship FloydFest 2017 with the dancing man!
3. Katie Graves 2018, astronomy
4. Katie Graves 2019
5. Butterfly year, 2018
6. Jessica Blandy 2017, 2018, 2019

Virginia is for thugs.

From Shawsvegas to Floyd, these are the last of the revelers. Lost in the sacred dance of the smoked swine. From the forgotten wild men of Delta Lot to the savage vagabonds of the Dead Cat Society. Do your eyes deceive you or are those matching Airstreams? Bring on the duck gumbo. FloydFest is home to the original Roanoke Mafia and the entire Kamp Happiness Appalachia Annex. All are welcome. Send in the clowns. It’s time for the Saturday night Cheese set.

Come sit a spell. This ain’t no time for that ball and chain.

“Tell me what your heart wants.”

1. 2019 Children’s Universe Dress Up Tent
2. Brenda Bewley Coakle
3. Children’s Universe, July 24, 2010 – FloydFest 9 Breaking Ground
4. Megan Mcfall 2015
5. Rebecca Overby 2015
6. Jocelyn Sylvest 2019

Wook Flu Eradicated?

Breaking News: Corona-19 shuts down all 2020 festivals and in one fell swoop the “Wook Flu” has been virtually eradicated. Welcome to the ringworm-free world. Stay tuned to the wranglers. More details to come.

 

View this post on Instagram

 

Visit @kamphappiness at @floydfestva #virginia #virginiaisforlovers #kamphappiness #nailtravels #festical

A post shared by Jason Nail (@nailtravels) on Jul 21, 2019 at 12:44pm PDT

1. Katie Walthall 2019 Kamp Happiness
2. Katie Walthall 2019 Kamp Happiness
3. Erica Cipko floydfest 2016 birthday goodness!!
4. Suzanne Unger Celebrating teachers
5. Jaime Gibson 2018
6. Jaime Gibson 2019

 

View this post on Instagram

 

It’s @thelilsmokies @floydfestva #atribecalledfloydfest #floydfest #music #mountains #loveva #vamusic #nailtravels #kamphappiness http://nailtravels.com/floydfest-2018-where-the-wild-things-are/

A post shared by Jason Nail (@nailtravels) on Jul 30, 2018 at 2:01pm PDT

1. Martha Phillips
2. Martha Phillips
3. Bill Foster 2019
4. Sarah Terry But also…this TRIBE 2016
5. First baby..taking first steps at Floyd! 2015
6. Janet Freitag

This is Kamp Happiness. You’ve found you’re way young grasshopper to Mecca. Believers be anointed. When you’ve fallen too far for fresh glitter, you get ground glitter. Mixed with Virginia red dirt and ready for the bomb.

1. Cindy Jepson 2015
2. Bern Vugrin
3. Paige Brugh 2017
4. Brooke Compton 2019 Jon Stickley Trio
5. Cindy Jepson 2016
6. Martha Phillips

Thanks again to everyone who contributed. Ain’t nobody makin’ no money here.

In High Country moderate isolation continues and as a result of climbing meat prices we have been forced to eat the dog. Don’t worry. Not the Chihuahua. She’s scrawny and needed elsewhere in the kingdom. It was Digs, the bull mastiff and he was given a diet of peanuts and rosemary for the last month to ensure quality flavor. Le purrr.

namaste beetches…

The post FloydFest Virtual Scrapbook 2020 appeared first on wook wranglers.

Thank goodness the grocery store and Staples have stayed open and kept our family in food and office supplies. Everyone needs eggs and scotch tape. March and April have come and gone with no festivals. Those are some mondo months at the Spirit of Suwannee Music Park. For many it was going to be Spring Reunion and right into Suwannee Rising, which just makes good sound sense. Welcome to the single space between sentences. It’s a brave new world.

All photos have been taken by Katie Egger and her professional staff of experienced subordinates. Be sure to visit the Smile For Camera Facebook Page.

The Spirit of Suwannee Music Park and the interactive Kamp Happiness art installation provided the backdrop for much of the sickly fun. The hobo camp continued to serve as a hub for the interconnected networks of wookish designs and subsequent questionable decisions. Suwannee Roots Revival has ever grown from the spirit of some of the earliest festivals at the park and even some earlier than that. Bluegrass, Americana, folk, blues and all the cracker jam one can eat have all  become staples of Roots Revival. Epic line-ups, perfect weather and some seriously seasoned wooks come together to make this gathering one of the best parties of the season.

Ask them. But be sure to keep your hands away from the teeth. There is a pride and sense of ultimate responsibility that comes with being a serious glutton. A wretched over-eater of all things. Processing the life force of entire worlds in between “lapses”. These are the fiendish dancers of Dionysus. Born in the twisting core of their own private nebulae. Forever twirling and pulling for the light. Ever closer to the urchin circus. The mainliners. Testing the ways the human body can endure all manner of extremities. This is the edge of the blade. Prepare to be devoured. 

Uh, Niner- mike- sierra requesting permission to absolutely crush the terra and anyone unfortunate enough to get tangled up in the stampede. For the record you are reminded to stay out of the way.  Charlie- 2- quebec over.

Comin’ in hot

After poking through several campsites, the child finally found the plastic gallon water jug. He removed the lid and in an effort to quench the dust and dryness, took the first drink of the day. How could he have known it was moonshine incognito? Oh it burned. Yosef snatched up the corn liquor and knocked the child to the ground. He was a little soapy and moonshine would surely help. Ah cool and refreshing. Come to think of it, a little water might not hurt either. The cramps in his legs and back were evolving to spasms and there was a growing concern over what was likely to happen in the foreseeable future. Hopefully when he eventually threw himself from a golf cart, it would be on sand rather than asphalt. So much was riding on this. 

It’s not reggae it’s calypso.

Maybe he hadn’t lost his wallet. There were reports that it had been stolen by a couple Muslims dressed like sheriff’s deputies. Flesh merchants of the third order and just walking around in plain sight. So much was crucial to the integrity of the framework that without care, the details may well get left to absolute wisdom of the institution. But it was too late. By the time anybody figured out what was happening, they will have been tagged and bagged and the others would be on the way to glory and ;fearless potential.   

From the badlands to the Sangre de Cristos the people called her Katie Magic.

She had one wooden leg and several fake teeth. Her feet were webbed and she drooled constantly as the result of an accident when she was little. She had a suspicious haircut and eyes that darted around the room, as if reconnoitering the nearest exit.

Scores of IEPs from when she was in school echoed what everyone now knew…she was a bit of the “other”. Born of eerily bizarre stock and nary a speck of glitter falls far from the glitter tree. Her parents met in Moracco, back when the water running down from the mountains was clear and clean. When Adam had a house cat. Ed was selling beaver pelts and some homemade ointment sure to cure any number of rheumatoid inflictions. Sunshine was a cocktail waitress in a topless gay bar and worked as a defense consultant and chaired a Congressional Advisory Board on missile defense. Their union was the collision of a black hole and a collapsing star. It’s what the wise ones called “making good choices”.

How many people had she already killed? There was those six that she know about for sure. Close enough to blow their last breath in her face. But this time it was an American and an officer. That wasn’t supposed to make any difference to her, but it did. Shit… charging a woman with murder in this place was like handing out speeding tickets in the Indy 500. She took the mission. What the hell else was she gonna do?

There is no today and no tomorrow. It’s neither late or early. There’s only music and this is the happy place. The fire is roaring and the musicians have found each other. The drugs kicked in hours ago and have now somewhat waned. The moonshine’s been passed around the circle twice and there’s still way too much left. New faces are pouring in all the time. Hey, aren’t we Facebook friends? Family finding their way in with their hand held cajones and homemade dulcimers Just takin’ a loop around the lake. There’s plenty of cold rice and beans left over from supper. What’s that sound? Four part harmony? Please don’t record anything. Let’s just remember it like it is…perfect.

Don’t worry, it could be worse. You could be the guy sitting in jail waiting for courts to reconvene. So maybe being cooped up with a couple “quaranteens” is really not the worse thing in the world. Start a garden. Learn Spanish. Small businesses will go under, wealth will be consolidated. Live music streaming on Facebook will never be the same. What fun! Welcome to the future.

Keep up with the wook wranglers as we careen blindly into the murky depths of the immediate future.

No horses were injured in the making of this article.

The post Suwannee Roots Revival ’19: Magic Memories appeared first on wook wranglers.

What’s a wook to do?

All the freaks at Okeechobee got one in at the last minute. Spring Reunion and Rising would be cancelled soon after. A small concession of festivarians still made the trek to Live Oak to enjoy one last weekend in the forest. Hobbies like camping, hiking and fishing still seemed like some of the best ways to self-isolate.

It wouldn’t be long before Disney World and Disneyland closed, then the Price Is Right cancelled its shows. Things had obviously gotten serious. Next the kids got out of school and they shut down all the restaurants and bars. Hmmm. The bartenders are out of work but the pork packaging plant is hiring…

The festivals were all cancelled or postponed. Each festy hound, each wook queen, every merchant to the drummer and lighting guy had to let that slowly sink in. Sure, the basketball tournament was cancelled and then just about every other sporting event.

But the festivals? That’s striking some folks real close to home. Like so many other, this is what the wook wranglers do. It’s fun and work. Sometimes it’s two or more festivals a month and during spring and summer there are multiple festivals around the country each weekend. Some folks hardly ever stop.

So this is the new idea. Sharing across the etherweb is what’s happening for a minute. Welcome to Suwannee Rising Memories: Virtual Festival Scrapbook.

Where were all the police?

The interstate still showed plenty of cars, semis and recreational vehicles. But no cops. At least not the usual swarms. Even in Georgia, a state widely know for using drones and robot tanks in advanced speed traps was strangely calm.

Welcome to Kamp Happiness? What pairs well with bleach? Have a quarantini. Bleach, vodka and peach juice. They said the Corona virus couldn’t stand up to moonshine. Possible ways to strengthen the immune system? Walk barefoot, drink moonshine, communal showers, bat quano…It was going to take some hard science to find a vacine.

Rising Up!

They were celebrating the life of the Roanoke Mafioso and sometime late night poured his ashes in the lake. In another ancient Mayan ritual, his remains were ingested along with mushrooms and corn whiskey. This was the old way and would not be seen again. In perfect Wanee tradition, neighboring camps came together and formed supercamps of degenerate party slugs. At some point as is want to do, things devolved into a perfectly out-of-hand camping experience. Most of the details would forever be lost to the forest. Thank ye gods.

As a result of the virus most people are stuck at home. This is leaving a large space in the common festivarian’s summer experience. Follow these simple tips and you can get that same festival experience in the comfort of your own home. That’s right.

Ways You Can Reproduce the Festival Experience At Home:

• Using a wet towel as a pillow, sleep halfway under your vehicle.
• Feed the Chihuahua chicken bones and marshmallows.
• Wake up and throw a handful of glitter in your face.

• Add two parts dirt and ashes to your morning coffee.
• Play loud music from your vehicle until the battery completely dies.
• Gather wood. Build a fire. Sit next to it and listen to “Morning Dew” while yelling at people to find more firewood.
• Take a cold shower at four in the morning using only ladies conditioner. (For Lockn’ only: Tear a ten dollar bill in half)

• Have someone else hide your phone and one of your shoes.
• Pour water down the sound hole of your guitar and step on the neck.
• Treat yosef to a breakfast of cold Spaghettios.
• Gobble down a “heroic” dose and sit in a Port-o-john for twenty minutes staring at your fingers.

• Wake up to a Bloody Mary.
• Stay awake for three days on nothing but tranquilizers and nitrous oxide.
• Eat edibles before going to bed and wake up soapy to more edibles.
• Pick a different neighbor each day and go borrow something.
• Pick a different neighbor each day and take them rice crispy treats.

• Listen to Billy Strings into J Rad into the Floozies. (for only the funkiest festivals)
• Drink three cases of PBR or Natties (or were you doing that already?)
• Throw up on a tree.
• Put lawn chairs by the street and using a megaphone yell at joggers as they pass.

So most folks are stuck at home. Even people that still work are likely to head straight home when it’s time. Hell, the bars are even closed. What else is there to do? The beaches are closed but not the launches.  For the festivarians it’s all the same. The feet are all clean. The hair is washed. Everyone’s playing music and sharing it on Facebook. The dogs are super happy. It seems they appreciate quarantine more than anyone.

It’s a perfect time to make some bracelets or wraps. Jade is sewing handwarmers and Sunnie is making candles. Here in high country the neighbors have been working on homemade explosives and we are sewing faces on dead cats. It’s all in good fun. It’s the perfect moment to focus on existing passions and hobbies and find some new ones. It’s a transcendent time and one that need not be wasted. Now get in the kitchen and make some tikka masala with jasmine rice.

Thanks to everyone who contributed photographs for this article. They each tell part of an amazing story. One of new friends blending into old ones and sharing in a spirit of love and fun. Festival photographs often tell similar stories and the canvas of Live Oak provides a perfect backdrop for all of these. Stay with the wranglers as we continue through the festival season with more virtual scrapbooks. Installation Station 20.

Thanks to Kamp Happiness, the Buttscratchers and all other versions of the ludicrous incarnate. It was the year of the Death Clown and Oteil. Hobo Kamps everywhere providing for all, wanting for nothing. This festival was born from the need to fill the space once occupied by Wanee, a party that was as good as anything anywhere. With great line-ups and ridiculously heady vibes it’s essence and feel were surely celebrated at Suwannee Rising.

By this time many of the Suwannee Rising camps had become detailed and homey. They had arrived two weeks earlier for Spring Reunion and had stuck around and built what the deputies would call “hobo kamps”. Drying lederhosen could be found hanging next to dyed tapestries. Things usually start to go south as soon as these types of campers get comfortable. Like a group of Bedouin traders, it’s best when they’re on the move. Best to walk before they make you run.

Don’t look at it Marion! The average wook goes to four to seven festivals a year. During the summer months the weekends begin running into each other in a haze of balloons and bubbles. For a devout festivarian the next party is usually only a couple of weeks away. Sometimes not that long. The energy and spirit that can be found at the festival gives back to everyone. Some folks just want or need more of it. There is no substitute for parties like Suwannee Rising. This church needs to be open. See you next year.

For online shopping support our friends at A Bazaar Universe and Mi Kulture.

The post Suwannee Rising Memories: Virtual Festival Scrapbook appeared first on wook wranglers.

Second Round of Artist Announcements

May 22-24, 2020
Three Sisters Park – Chillicothe, IL

Announcing their second wave of artists performing at this year’s 20th anniversary event, Summer Camp Music Festival shows no signs of slowing down in building anticipation for Memorial Day Weekend. Founded in 2001 by Jay Goldberg Events and Entertainment, Summer Camp has stayed true to its community vibe roots while exploring almost every musical genre imaginable, all while bringing people together from all over the country for a weekend of fun, music and traditional camping. Summer Camp Music Festival takes place at Three Sisters Park in Chillicothe, IL on May 22, 23, and 24, 2020.

moe. Umphrey’s McGee, Andy Frasco & The U.N. Aaron Kamm and the One Drops, AHZ, Ween,  Aqueous,  Arlo McKinley,  Alison Hanna Band, JRAD, Badfish,  Brass Against The Althea Grace Band, Billy Strings, Big Something, Chicago Farmer & The Field Notes,  Backyard Tire Fire, GRIZ, Boogie T.rio Chomppa, Ben Miller Band, Rezz, BoomBox, Consider the Source, Brainchild, STS9, Break Science, Dogma The Dawn, Tipper, Cycles Family Groove Company Dizgo
Doom Flamingo Fate Nite ft. Brendan Bayliss + Friends EGi Dirty Heads Dopapod GoodSex Electric Orange Peel
Snails Everyone Orchestra Joe Hertler and the Rainbow Seekers Fletcher's Grove Rival Sons GG Magree Jon Stickley Trio FUX The Wood Brothers Horseshoes and Hand Grenades Kitchen Dwellers Ifdakar Pigeons Playing Ping Pong Keller Williams Lee Dewyze Jack Cloonan Houndmouth Kursa LTX Joslyn and the Sweet Compression
The Floozies Kyle Hollingsworth Band Mike Dillon and Punkadelic Little Stranger Lettuce Lawrence Mize Magnolia Boulevard Cherub LSDream Moody Good No BS Brass Band Manic Focus Maddy O'Neal Mungion The North 41
Emancipator Marvel Years Neal Francis Positive Vibr8ions CloZee Monophonics Nobide The Ries Brothers
Jade Cicada The New Deal Old Shoe Still Shine Boogie T Papadosio (Microdosio) Pert Near Sandstone Stormy Chromer
EOTO Ryan Montbleau Porn and Chicken Travers Brothership Twiddle Southern Avenue Red Wanting Blue The Tripp Brothers ScaryPoolParty Spafford Steady Flow Victoria Canal The Record Company Sunsquabi Sun Stereo Vintage Pistol Yonder Mountain String Band The Werks Tropidelic Wild Adriatic Whipped Cream Yam Yam and more to be announced!

Joining the festival to headline once again is future funkin’ producer, Griz plus SCamp family bands Yonder Mountain String Band and EOTO.

Debuting artists include Grammy nominated rockers Rival Sons. This year’s festival has a range of old friends and new beginnings to create a one-of-a-kind celebration for everyone. Plenty more artists will be announced over the coming months!

Volunteer Applications Now Open!
Summer Camp offers THREE different volunteer teams for those who want to get down and dirty behind the scenes with the festival. Besides getting the inside scoop of how a festival functions, all volunteers will receive a 3-Day GA Pass PLUS a Thursday Pre-Party Pass in exchange for their hours worked. Choose from General Volunteers (general assistance in areas such as box office, general stores, bars and more ), Green Team (assistance in all sustainability and sorting initiatives) and the Soulshine Ambassadors (engaging with all patrons on Making a Difference) today!
Visit the volunteer site and get on board.

VIP + VIP Primitive RV Camping Spots released!
Summer Camp Music Festival offers multiple VIP Upgrades that lend to a variety of comforts. Amenities include Exclusive VIP Camping, special artist performances, VIP Lounge Access, Drink Specials, VIP-Only Showers and Air-Conditioned Private Bathrooms, Official Festival Merchandise, Late Night Shows, Thursday Pre-party pass, and much more!

Reconnect your festival squad at #SCamp20 pic.twitter.com/4yTjdJqogW

— Summer Camp Festival (@SummerCampFest) February 19, 2020

The festival provides an array of RV Camping Spots from 25’-40’, with electricity or without.  Patrons are invited to bring RVs, campers, trucks, buses or even just cars with an RV Camping Spot right inside the festival grounds.  RV Camping Spots require an additional ticket on top of a GA Pass. New this year, Summer Camp is saving space for those VIPers who want to bring in their vehicles or RVs without electricity! This is ideal for the VIP car camper who loves the luxury of their vehicles being right next to their tents. Umphrey’s McGee is once again offering a top notch VIP package for those Summer Camp fans who can’t get enough UM. This year’s Booze N’ Schmooze package includes a whole lotta hang time with the band and full Umphrey’s team, entry to the Thursday night Umphrey’s McGee Red Barn late night show and much more.

Visit here to learn more about all Summer Camp Ticket Options.

About Summer Camp
Summer Camp Music Festival features a range of artists and performances across multiple stages including 3 days of moe. and 3 days of Umphrey’s McGee.  On top of all the live music, festival-goers have access to on-site camping, late night shows, musician workshops, a non- profit village, unique arts & craft vendors and tons of great food and beer.

The Summer Camp Music Festival started in 2001. Since its beginning, Summer Camp has been known for its spacious, open fields for shows, trademark late-night events, pristine campgrounds, and amazing lineup of eclectic artists and bands. 2020 will mark the 20th anniversary of the festival which has hosted a wide array of talent over the years, including: Umphrey’s McGee, moe., Trey Anastasio Band, Primus, Tom Petty's Mudcrutch, Phil Lesh & The Terrapin Family Band, Bassnectar, Zac Brown Band, Steve Miller Band, Big Grizmatik, Jane's Addiction,
Diplo , The Roots, Widespread Panic, The Flaming Lips, Cypress Hill, Willie Nelson, STS9, Jason Isbell, Pretty Lights, The Avett Brothers, Excision, George Clinton, Skrillex, Zeds Dead, Violent Femmes, and many, many more!

 

View this post on Instagram

 

We’re getting DOOMED this year @doomflamingo . HEADS UP Only a few hours remain with Tier 1 pricing! Act now and save $$ before tickets move to Tier 2 pricing tonight SummerCampFestival.com/tickets . : @aaronbradleyphoto

A post shared by Summer Camp Music Festival (@summercampfest) on Feb 16, 2020 at 4:06pm PST

More information on the festival is available at the official festival website and be sure to visit their social media pages on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter.

The post Summer Camp Music Festival Second Phase appeared first on wook wranglers.

Welcome back funk munchers to the summer festival season and the land of the unwashed Watusi. Whether you’re glamping in the antique Airstream or sleeping deep in the ground glitter, all roads lead to the rail. This is the Hobo Kamp and the only job you have is to just stay awake. You’ll get enough sleep when you’re dead. The robins are already playing in the High Country snow heralding warmer days to come. La arctic blast can’t last forever and you are the seventh son of the seventh son. Start walking now in between the snowflakes and you should make it to Mulberry Mountain just in time for the party.

Backwoods is heading home to Mulberry Mountain June 4th-7th, 2020 with a stacked lineup full of artists spanning a wide range of genres. From reggae powerhouse Rebelution, Jam Band heavy hitters Lotus, space bass legends G Jones and Space Jesus to a live set by experimental extraordinaire Shpongle, the music selection at Backwoods 2020 has been expertly curated to deliver a unique experience that fans will remember for a lifetime. Did someone mention Twiddle? That’s the kind of thing that invites a whole other brand of wrangler. Where’s Uncle Lumpy when you need a dose of reality? Abandon hope all ye who enter here. 

You Have a Place Here. The Mountain is Calling.

Backwoods at Mulberry Mountain returns for 2020 with new summer time dates! This 3 day, 4 night camping and music festival is held on the top of a mountain in the middle of the Ozark National Forest in Arkansas. Warmer weather dates means more summer fun like cooling off in the streams and rivers high in the the Ozark National Forest.

The event is known for it’s attention to creative production, art installations, and unique visual performers. Guests are immersed in 360 degree artistic stage performance environments providing a one-of-a-kind festival experience. Waterfall hikes, and other fun activities during the festival provide unique experiences had no-where-else.

New experiences await you on the Mountain this coming summer… Get ready to get weird.

LunOSol Productions will also be present with their changing stage created alongside Tycho throughout the weekend.

Payment plans and festival tickets available now at: https://backwoodsmusicfestival.com/ticket-information/

THE DEVIL MAKES THREE

GANJA WHITE NIGHT

G JONES

GRAMATIK

REBELUTION

SHPONGLE (SIMON POSFORD LIVE SET)

SPACE JESUS

TYCHO

AC SLATER

ANDY FRASCO & THE UN

ARKANSAUCE

ARTIFAKTS

BUMPIN UGLIES

CARBIN

CNOPES

COM TRUISE

CYCLES

DETOX UNIT

DIRTFOOT

FREDDY TODD

THE GREEN

GUCCIMENT (SPACE JESUS B2B FREDDY TODD)

HANDMADE MOMENTS

JADE CICADA

KELLER WILLIAMS

LOTUS

MADDY O’NEAL

MLOTIK

MOLOKAI

OF THE TREES

OPAL AGAFIA

OPIUO

PAPADOSIO

PLS&TY

SPAFFORD

STEEL PULSE

SUNSQUABI

TWIDDLE

ZEKE BEATS

ACID KATZ

AVRY

DALTON RICHMOND

FLINTWICK

FRACTAL SKY

THE IRIE LIONS

JEFF WHITE

JONTEAL

KOOOOOKOO

LEVITΔTE.

LUSID

M.O.B

MODELING

PRADO

RYAN VISER

STIFF NECKED FOOLS

TRYMORE MOJO

*COMEDY, WORKSHOPS, VISUAL AND THEATRICAL PERFORMANCES!

All of your questions can be answered here. Things like, “Should I just toss my phone in the creek upon entry and save myself time and stress?” Maybe you’re wondering, “Should I even bring a tent or just spend the weekend either awake or napping under other people’s trucks?” These are important questions and should be addressed prior to entry.

Thank you Emma and Garrett for covering last year’s Backwoods as well as Brainquility, right this second. It takes a village to be everywhere. It’s an exciting time to be a wrangler. Please join the fun as soon as you’re ready. Maybe before. And remember, the Roanoke Mafia loves Space Jesus.

Keep up with the wook wranglers as we join Kamp Happiness at Suwannee Spring Reunion and Rising. From there it all heads north to a virtual cornucopia of summer parties. Last year was ultimately a “turbulent” summer and the theme this festival season might be good choices, restraint and adult caution. Why are you laughing?

Good luck.

The post Backwoods Returns to Mulberry Mountain 2020  appeared first on wook wranglers.