I’m a free spirit, and in my life there hasn’t been a whole lot of tradition. I can’t remember the last time I went home for Christmas. Heck, last year, I didn’t get one Christmas gift. Don’t get me wrong, it didn’t phase me, it certainly didn’t break my heart, because Christmas hasn’t really held that sort of place in my heart. There are a few things I look forward to every year – St. Patrick’s Day, my birthday, Halloween and the time I get to spend at the Gorge on Labor Day weekend.
I’m sure there are a few of you who know of my deep love and adoration for a little band called, The Dave Matthews Band…for those of you who hadn’t gotten the memo, there it is. I do love me some DMB. I’ve been to a lot of shows… 34 so far. But nothing comes close to the experience, the music and the memories that always come with my visits to the Gorge.
The Gorge is located two and half hours south east of Seattle, off of Interstate 90. The drive there is stunning. Green trees and mountains eventually turn to flat lands, which eventually turns to a desert-ish area. Every year I think I make that drive thinking about how pretty it all is – how part of me wishes I could stop and take in the scenery…but my excitement keeps me going on to the Sillica Road exit.
Once we make the 4-mile drive or so off the freeway, we wait and wait and wait in a long line of cars waiting to enter the Gorge campground. I know what you’re thinking...”Anna camps?” I’m more rugged than you think…and there is no other place I’d rather be when I’m here – though admittedly every year I notice how young the “kids” are looking…and how old I’m feeling. Once we’ve paid the camping fee, tradition has us journeying through the campground trying to find the best location (near a road, near the honeybuckets and near some really cool neighbors…who we hope don’t play bongo drums all night long.)
We yank out all of our camping gear, which is generously loaned from the Hughes’…and begin setting up camp. And then…we sit, we laugh, we drink…and laugh some more. All before heading down to the best venue in the world.
It’s easily a two mile walk down to the venue…which overlooks the Columbia river and is built into a natural (very steep) hill. There are always “roadies” in our hands…and stories along the way, and new, fun people met. And then there’s the show…The Gorge is the Bands favorite venue to play and it shows. Their energy here is unheard of at any other venue I’ve been too. They feel free, comfortable, home. And the music is amazing.
While I do love me some amazing music, I came to realize this year – that this tradition, and my anticipation of it every year…has little to do with the music, but everything to do with the people and the experience. Not only have I journeyed to the Gorge with four of my closest friends…I’ve also made friendships that I’m positive will last a lifetime. It’s never the music that I remember, the set-list or the transitions…it’s the moments we spend with strangers, friends, and neighbors. It’s the laughing. The games. It’s a dance parties and dance-offs. It’s tent building races. It’s a photo shoot on the hood of a yellow jeep. It’s lost cameras. It’s stolen tents. It’s the kid who offers me Gatorade when I need it. The friends who offer to share their canopies when it starts pouring rain. It’s the conversations over way too much beer. It’s dirty feet. It’s getting lost on the way back from the show. It’s waiting for your friends at the winery…and doing a human bridge to welcome them. It’s too much warm clothes, or not enough. It’s sharing your cooler contents with strangers. It’s the Honeybucket runs when it gets dark with someone else’s headlamp. It’s pink ice skates. It’s jager, turkey slices and pickles. It’s chocolate truffles and monster cans. It’s laughing about the shenanigans of others the next day. It’s laughing at yourself. It’s the ride home, when you feel sick, dehydrated, bruised and exhausted…and then thinking to yourself that it was all worth it.
I’ve grown up in this tradition. I’ve grown into my own here. The Gorge always will have a place in my heart…along with all the amazing memories that I’ve created here…and the people who have been a part of it in the past, and those who I’m sure will be a part of it in the future. Some people have white elephant parties, or hand out cookie tins…me and my friends journey past the Columbia River to live like hippies for a couple of days. I love it. I love every minute of it.
