The Spring Road Part? Suwannee Again Rises

Lucy knew that stopping at the strip club was a bad idea. They were low on funds, driving dirty and fam was already gathering at the Spirit of Suwannee Music Park for Rising. Luke vehemently disagreed and insisted they stop off at Cafe Risque and two-for-one Long Island ice teas en route. Dancers weren’t just for truckers anymore. Who could forget the mulatto girl, convinced that Genocide was a good stripper name? Luke begged her but she couldn’t be convinced to join the fray. He knew it was her loss to be sure. Knowing exactly where they were headed they invested their last five bucks in a gallon of gas and a pack of 305s. It would be enough to make it to the park and that’s all they needed. They would have to sell some bling at the festival if they were going to have gas money to keep pushing through Florida. One thing was f’sho…they were back home in the pocket and it was all downhill from here. Welcome to The Spring Road Part? Suwannee Again Rises.

Jesus, it had only been a week since Fool’s Engagement and that hot mess of fun had permanently loosened the yolk in the egg. Wow. Both Lucy and Luke were still trying to process exactly what had happened in Branford. Details were sketchy to say the very least. After a few days of “rest” on the banks of the St. Mary’s River they were headed back into the maelstrom. Back to the park where the Suwannee Rising was already in preparty mode.

For the second year Rising found its way into the North Florida woods on the banks of the Suwannee. Leave it to Paul Levine to put together another full tilt get-down at one of the best music festival camping venues anywhere. With resurrection ferns popping off the oak branches it was a perfect pod party with plenty of A-listers manning the controls and steamy headliners like Umphrey’s McGee, Goose, Eric Krasno, Lettuce and many more dropping the mad beat.

The Friday show included delicious weather to the likes of Big Something and the ever spectacular Melody Trucks Band. A classic rail girl, Lucy even enjoyed the pod environment which they’d pimped out with chairs, coolers and blinking lights. After making friends with the podfolk on their perimeter she occasionally ventured out to explore the lay of the land, which was a predictable freakshow. The late night party in the park brought a freight train of fun that had been building up inside the hearts of these festivarians for a long time. On his way to the Pound Town late night bar, Luke made it clear he had been cooped up for over a year and was entirely ready to scoop out his brain with a salad spoon and toss it in the middle of the fire.

Podhopper Jones: 9-21: Jess and Josh, 21-12: Oldsmar, 1-19: Moonshine and Tim, 3-09: 3-12?: Jeff and Barry, 3-6: Patrick and Sarah, 19-19: Dr. T., 6-2: Dr. Paint and Brooke. Who knows?

Big Betty opted to leave the music early and set up Kamp Happiness for the Friday party when she ran smack into Josh and Jessica who made the trip all the way from Michigan. Talk about real Umph Love. Things just moved up to eleven on the meter. May I speak with your manager? Visit their website at Mi Kulture for all the coolest hippy shit anywhere.

Luke could feel it in the air. That special tingle that comes when an army of campers join in a chorus of howls toward the stars. It was Friday night and the music was over somewhere around eleven. There was lots of time to get in trouble.

“Never for me the lowered banner, never the last endeavor.” Sir Ernest Shakleton

Friday night Family Jam: Thanks to Chase and Dr. Paint for the late-night acoustic slickery at the Kamp Happiness Lakeside Retreat. Mandolins, guitars, basses and harps kept the musac lifting through the forest into the wee hours of the night. Eventually eyeholes began pointing in different directions and the common tongue became Brookanese. Moonman language for the uninitiated. Oldsmar provided the drums and pillows for the late night ballyhoo and created an inviting camp for all to partake. And partake they did.

And then there was the moonshine man who brought no moonshine. Lucy wasn’t sure how she could be expected to get through the weekend without moonshine. A few swigs would often hold her together just when the weight of rampant chemical abuse began to hamper her faculties. In lieu of the shine the entire camp was introduced to Bulleit whiskey laced with acid. She figured baby steps might not be necessary when walking in the world of high science.

Among the more bourgeois pods, the one hosted by the incomparable festival savages, Jeff and Barry offered free back rubs and pickle back whiskey shots to anyone that could do a cartwheel. With the beautiful people on the third row they certainly rode the Goose train in what was a spectacular set. Good advice. Great vocals, great guitar, great jams. Visit their website at RoadtripMojo and always plan on seeing them down the long festival road.

Saturday Night Umph Love: There’s nothing more fun than a Saturday night with Umphrey’s. Just ask Liz the Biz, Umphrey’s makes girls dance. They always made Uncle Clayopheus dance as he stood right next to the speaker. The two loaded set were full of banging covers like “Shine On”, “Dr. Feelgood”, and a David Bowie “Fame” closer that sealed the whole deal. By the end of the show Lucy had managed to move up to Patrick’s pod on the third row. Would you liker a coffee and a dab? Sitting in a lawn chair that close to the stage, she knew it was unlikely she would ever enjoy such an unobstructed view of the funk again. Thanks Covid.

Sunday Spunday: Luke slept later than usual due to the morning rain. It was a slow Sunday drizzle that said, “There’s nothing going on. Stay right where you are.” He eventually grabbed the nearest water bottle and ended up brushing his teeth with vodka. Thank you Cody and Andrea for providing shelter from the storm at the Bill Monroe Pavilion. What was supposed to be a pack and travel day quickly devolved into Sunday music and groundscore feast. When the rain finally stopped all that was left were tent straps and magical cases of warm Yuengling.

Never miss a Sunday show.

Wookish Innovations:  For the monkeys who paid for camping but failed to procure a festival bracelet solutions were scarce. Friday showed the orange tape from the pod dividers served as a reasonable substitute for the orange bracelets. The award for first-place wook ingenuity went to Gumball for his use of the yellow stripping from an Aquafina package. It didn’t get him through VIP Artist Entry but it worked fine for general admission. (ed. note. The wook wranglers do not endorse or condone this type of tomfoolery.)

Groundscore the World: Sarah always said that when it rains Sunday morning folks tear out in a hurry forgetting much of their sheeite. She and Luke had been a  roving groundscore team for years and had it down to a science. A half bottle of Rumplemintz later it was jalapeno quail eggs and cheese puffs for brunch. Don’t drive dirty.

Atheist Don’t Drink Champagne: It started with a pair of pliers and a bottle of lukewarm Champagne. A perfect Sunday combination. The small crowd of leftover thugs huddled close ready for a well-deserved mimosa. Kyle pried and wrestled with the cork until, in the blink of an eye, the bottle exploded into a torrent of jagged shards. Kyle and Pollen, sitting at ground zero and would have been vaporized had it not been for Chase’s quick thinking. Nary another man would have sacrificed himself in such a selfless manner. The entire squad would have been ripped apart had he not thrown his face into the path of the splintered glass. When later asked what would inspire a man to throw himself on a grenade, he calmly replied, “I though I might look good with an eye patch.”

Tommy Thermometer’s Rainy Day Sunday Exit Strategy:  Unhook your tent poles and leave everything in a wet pile next to the road. That’s two times in three weeks but sometimes spring festivals get wet in Florida. As always, the LaRosa Nostra Kitchen was in full effect all weekend. Tempe, potstickers, mango chutney and peanut butter hoglegs were on the daily specials menu.

Bad Choices: Lucy realized she’d left her phone in the hands of an admitted degenerate. Her sandy footprints all over the dashboard of the Mercedes C450 she screamed at the hairy beast to drive faster. It was likely too late.

The good news was Luke knew exactly where Lucy’s phone was. The bad news was he knew it was in a van on the way to Mobile to see Billy Strings. He’d just lost two phones in three days, neither of which were his.

Thanks to Nehal, Lauren and Chris for everything and all who contributed photographs for the article. Keep up with the wranglers as we get ready to join with Kamp Happiness, the Buttscratchers and the Lawyer for Orange Blossom Jamboree and all the gristly fun that comes with it. For roll call visit the wook wranglers Facebook page. The party is May 13. Get on board, there’s plenty of room.

Spirit of Suwannee Music Park: Chase Holiday Lives Here