Sasquatch Music Festival, Travel Therapy and Spa, Part 1

I collect things. Experiences, memories, a garage and crawl space full of important things saved for important people.

It’s almost like I haven’t heard the big news that kids don’t want their parents’ important stuff yet. Even bigger news? I have heard some parents share new memories with their kids instead of rolling out the old stuff. Over. And Over. Again.

Sasquatch Music Festival is a new memory. Possible one of the best music memories ever. There’s something magical about thousands and thousands of people gathered in one place with the same goal.

But it’s so much more.

The fans achieved their goal. You can’t call them all music zealots, but they knew their bands like they never listened to mainstream top 40 music. Only so many hours in the day to listen and these fans worked in Sasquatch bands before they played the stages.

They tuned up, then showed up. They wanted it bad, and for three days they got it.

I have history with shows at The Gorge near George, Washington. Some trips, five hour drive one way, turned out better than others, but the memories are all rock and roll perfect.

The vibe, the aura, the essence of Sasquatch Music Festival at The Gorge, comes from embracing the shared moment. (It even spawned a new game called Embrex where those playing embrace everything until they can’t think of one more thing. Embracasm ends the game between two or more players, called Embracianists.)

After a few rounds of Embrex it’s time to head for the show. This is when the non-threatening feel of ‘everything is cool’ gets a check up.

Entrances are identified by camp areas (Big Rig Gold) and every fan empties their pockets for the metal detector wand. This is before getting the UPC on my wrist scanned. The peaceful easy feeling of it’s all good comes with a hefty price tag and a below the radar tracking program.

Heading back to the campsite meant getting scanned on the way out. Data analysts must have a field day breaking down the fan trends and tendencies based on what bands were playing, time of day, and how much beer was sold.

Music is the reason for Sasquatch. One reason. Anyone who’s been on a three day camp out knows the drill. It’s all about the campers. And music. Sasquatch draws great campers. They know how to set up, clean up, and pack up like they were never there.

Over and over on move day the scene played out. When neighbors yelled “Go to bed” the loud camp turned it down.

Where there had been a raging party the night before turned into a calm patch of grass. Real grass on the camp sites.

Cooperation is the reason for Sasquatch. Some people slept on the ground, some in their car, come in tents. Lots in tents. Add RVs, trailers, and pop-ups and I looked a acres of outdoor gear in full bloom. And not one siren. On the road near me only one person was carted out behind an official ATV.

No matter what you hear about the crowd, it wasn’t all 20-something millennials. Lots and lots of them, yes, but not all. What’s there to say about the generation catching so much grief from boomers?

They know how to show up and make it count at Sasquatch. Do that as a group and anything is possible. (Part Two coming soon: New Tricks For A New Sasquatch.)