I've been throwing around the word epic a lot in regard to this weekend. But it works - for real.
EPIC: Noun a long poem, typically one derived from ancient oral tradition, narrating the deeds and adventures of heroic or legendary figures or the history of a nation; a long film, book, or other work portraying heroic deeds and adventures or covering an extended period of time Adjective of, relating to, or characteristic of an epic or epics
We, a clan of six to begin with, left at 3 pm (we could tell by the sun's position in the sky) yet did not arrive at our destination until 11 pm that night. While going through the mountain pass, along with many other caravans, we inched slowly through three passes of the hour until finally - the cork flew out of the bottle and we gathered speed out of its neck, flowing like liquid up and down, up and down to a great chasm in the midst of the majestic Washington state. The Gorge outside of George, Washington. We arrived at long last & set up camp by the light of both traditional and Newton's fires. After set up and sustenance (smokies, meat, unhggggg - said the men) four set off to explore the camp they had joined, as one stayed behind to guard theirs. As the intrepid four wandered in search of purported comrades among thousands of people, the convoys were still lined up for miles. I wandered ahead, ever moving, as my friends heard a yell - "Beeeeeethhhhhh!" She leaped out of the rented RV, I turned and we embraced tightly - brothers from another mother (our shared hometown, Regina SK) and having been through adventures with this lady before, I was glad to welcome a seventh member to our clan. The next day, a short sleep away, we played with discs that flew through the air and guzzled liquids to guard against the heat, more comforting than oppressive at this point - and headed towards the concert grounds, our heart and feet pounding with movement - current and anticipated. Four more friends, from home and heart joined by happy accident when our cell phones all failed us.
Slathering on suncscreen we claimed our territory and opened our ears. Doves, Decemberists feat. Shara Worden, M.Ward, Animal Collective, Devotchka, Kings of Leon, Yeah yeah yeahs (KAREN O! Beyond...) Bon Iver (ahhhhhhh), and as you can understand with a list so inspiring: a few us were unable to leave the epicenter of sound - the stage with the sky as its backdrop - and after hours in the relentless sun we were fading fast - exhausted, dehydrated, wilting as the moments passed when a clear gatorade water filled with H20 (not whiskey, not vodka, not....urine!) was thrust at us along with a smiling bearded face. "You need water, I have water!" And thus, three new members of the clan were born throughout a storybook set played start to finish - we teared, we smiled, we exclaimed, we congratulated on convocation from Dal, we were transfixed. Friend's eyes exchanging wonder without words, all we could do was grin and shake our heads, smile and sigh, close our eyes to shut out everything but the sound and open them again to refill. Turning our heads to connect the dots, we connected.
As night fell and we welcomed the cooler air caressing our sunburnt and sweat encrusted skin, we slowly headed back to the tent city, gathering one last member on the long road home. This one won us over by his earnest nature, and his unapologetic love of M. Ward and microbiology. We ate and ate and after only stopping to sleep for the fewest of hours, we continued. And although not pictured - we headed down at 12 noon to a terrible terrible exclusive American summer community (members only members only) but despite a very unfavorable first impression, we found our way to the icy river and drenched our hot hot hot bodies. With cold hands we flew through the air in an ultimate fashion to catch and intercept discs with ease (sometimes) and crashes (sometimes) and trouble (sometimes). We lay on the lush grass, fed with money - not ours - and soaked the moments in.
Dearest Gorge, dearest Sasquatch, you were good to us and we thought of you all the way home. Don't find another lover. We may not be Ulysses, we may be no Beowolf, but we are your epic. We'll be back next year. Xoxo.
Comments (1)
very, very, very, very jealous. very.