Warning: This blog is explicit in nature. If explicit things bother you, don’t read it.
I took an alternative, overgrown path up one side of the central stream, over a large, slightly rotting bridge which I crossed tentatively, then into the camp site. More roasted onions with Caribbean chicken sauce tasted fine as I made more acquaintances. The next few hours consisted of strolling from fire to fire, chatting with whomever I came across. Paulo from Brazil was one of my favorite characters, voyaging randomly found himself to the race. A number of introduction included “you mean the banjo boy I’ve been hearing all the stories about” or from the security “oh, the one guy we weren’t supposed to let in this year”. Reuniting with “Monster” the large, bearded bald chap who’m I skirmished with was quite amusing, as he was hugging me, he kept saying “they mixed me up for you! They thought I was the guy naked and high on acid”. I told him I fully enjoyed being beaten into the family. A dear friend Rabble, who’s got multiple face peircings, dreds and a crazed look in his eye, invited me to sample the liquid acid, I did two hits. Sound check was smooth, then I shot the shit with the extended family and awaited my turn to perform, and for the acid to kick in. The grand godfather of the race and the most central figure of the longboarding existence is a guy named Striker, who’s a mailman by day, incredibly warm and joyful soul while being a deeply silly goofball, and who happens to put together this and many other similar events. Well he plays bass in a band called loose tooth, total thrashy/metalish skatepunk, it brought me back to being 16 years old and sneaking into the various punk clubs, feelings that deep seated attraction to unbridled chaotic musical rage. The band ripped it up and the audience ripped it harder, moshing with conviction, screaming gang vocals. Punk music is alive and well in the deep bowels of BC. A lit up frizbee was a pleasure to toss as the drugs began to tingle, in pitch darkness, the lights flash and fly, prompting wild visual hallucinations and quick dashes to catch and toss. After Loose Tooth played, it was my turn up to bat. The crowd was ramped and excited, stomping out a rhythm the crowd followed with claps and the energy started to rise. Lights in my eyes blurred the vision of the crowd, by I could hear them screaming, hollering. “ Ole ole ole ole!” Started up and all sang along. With a smooth transition into What I Got, the folks were all singing along, still banging away, raw percussive devises of bottles and sticks emerged, knocking out strange counter beats. Into Fresh Prince of Bell Air theme song, with what I got lyrics, I got the whole gang rapping. Finishing off with a misfits medley, there was a whole moshpit pulsating away to the sound the banjo. A Deeply enjoyable audience, the audience partcipation was key. Black out play and the crowd was awesome. The rest of the night was spent wandering from camp fire to camp fire, enjoying the waves of LSD that flowed through my consciousness. As the sun rose, the upper field was the place to hang out, Logan kept a good eye on the megaphone and his booze, so waking everyone up for the slide competition, by banjo and skat via bullhorn, was fully enjoyable.