Memorial Day Camping and Concert, VA

The holiday weekend brought me to Devil’s Backbone Brewery and Distillery in Roseland, Virginia, nestled in the foothills of Appalachia between Lynchburg and Charlottesville on a rainy 50 degree fall feeling day.  The 4 hour ride up 29N through the storm and the 5mph speed necessary to handle climbing up and down the switchbacks was well worth the destination.  Twenty miles off SR 29, we found our eyes glazing a large stage and gorgeous brewery; cut out of the mountains and forest.  The other half of our party had already arrived and had camp set up next to two strong trees, picnic table covered by canopy, fire pit, and view of pure Virginia Mountains. 

After setting up the Marmot Catalyst 2P foot print, my trusted shelter for the weekend, I changed into my holiday party attire for the concert.  My grandfather’s Hawaiian shirt, circa 1974, table cloth, white, and heavy at other spots stole the spot light and caused my buddy, fashion guru, to fire off, “Is that what you’re wearing?”  Obliviously, I had bested him in painting my canvas, a first! 

Melanie, part of the staff, escorted us to our POD, aka, a 4 by 20 feet, roped in rectangle, section N, the last row for concert goers before a 100 yard field to the road.  Through the light drizzle I followed Melanie scoping the crowd but I felt their eyes on me; while they danced in their safe space gawking at the curly haired, Hawaiian shirt wearing Gay Ginger Detective.  Upon arrival to our digs, Melanie pointed out our preordered food and drinks; tucked away in jacked up thermal grocery bags, on the grass, yarn string boundary, in the mist and mountains on a Saturday night.  This felt so anit-festival life to me.

Big Something, the first band, from NC, was playing harder than expected festival rock.  I’ve been to festivals and this was not the typical vibe, which I welcomed; turn me up.  Immediately, I felt the urge to mingle, since it appeared that was frowned upon, and I walked to the crowd of likeminded souls 20 yards behind our POD.  The loud mouth in me was bested upon my inattention to, “Make friends,” because a girl had beat me to the punch in her black knit hat and green army jacket; “Hey you, love the shirt.”  I was welcomed quickly with open arms, like attracts like, and you can smell your own. 

After the victory of new friends I went to our “Safe Space,” and jammed out, but it couldn’t hold me.  As a Libra, I find myself wanting to see both sides and negotiate, but this, this I couldn’t stand for.  I was on my way to the front to experience Big Something, alone.  Wanting to cut all strings and enclosed spaces.

I walked past the PODs of concert goers with a beautiful backdrop of the mountains and stage in front to find a tucked away spot next to the tent facilitating the show. The lights and the surround sound hit perfect and I enjoyed a 10 minute jam, Zombies on Saturday Morning, the man in the main POD informed me, for what seemed liked forever as they teased with false endings. 

Upon my arrival back to our POD, the others had grown damp from the clouds openings and wanted to retreat to the campsite.  I declined.  My rain gear from the AT hike was keeping my grandfather’s gear dry and the sun was just setting.  The next band, Too Many Zooz, from NYC, blew me away!  Three men; a sax, trumpet, and drum, no vocals, blazed through lightened orange, purple, and yellow spot lights, rain, and mountains for the fearless on a holiday weekend.  The old man, doing his job, keeping us in our zones didn’t dampen the experience.

The perception continued throughout the night but we managed a fire as our feet got cold.  Morning offered no relief and the cold bitterness was unwelcoming on the gates to summer.  Wendy made us a Bob Evans style breakfast, sausage patties, Canadian bacon, eggs, crepe, and toast; quite a feast.  It put me back to sleep after the Jerry Springer side show next door woke me early; the women had both peed in the tent and CCR was on a 10 at 7am, causing me to cross the line again and yell red neck shit in their direction.  I did help set their monstrosity of tent up and they were ok, just louder than me, congratulations. 

Jake, the fashion guru, slept soundly in the back of the Cadillac SUV as Lisa, his girl, and I packed up.  But, by 1:30, the Prince’s waking time, the weather had softened and we unpacked.  What a good call, because the company and the stars that night did not disappoint.  The family across from us; were from Ohio and we got along fast, next door we had hikers from Georgetown, another couple befriended us as well, and the Jerry episode found a “Steve” in their nephew who was a soldier of fortune from Alabama. 

We ate cherries, pizzas, chicken wraps, cookies, hot dogs, and had every condiment under sun in the 3 coolers.  The fire danced and the stars shown bright for a May night in the northern hemisphere.  Good conversation and laughs were had by all in attendance.  A feeling of fulfillment was acknowledged away from comfortable surroundings amongst strangers in the foothills of Virginia with man’s best friend, Zoey, aka Meatball, as our companion.  She mingled and wandered with excitement of the unknown as we did, effortlessly.