After catching only one of the 2009 Gorge shows, Silvie and I had vowed to do the double the next time Phish rolled into the Columbia River valley, and we made good, securing tickets and camping passes through the band’s website several months before the early August shows. We made the trek out east with all of our camping gear and snacks, plus a case of bottled water and a gallon of wine (which was hardly touched, as the searing heat of the desert does not exactly whet the appetite for fermented grapes). It was HOT out there. The temps were in the low 90’s, but the real problem is that at the Gorge, if you want shade, you have to bring it with you. Some folks did – in the form of canopies. The moment we stepped out of the car and I saw our new next-door neighbors erecting theirs I thought “Damn, I wish we had one of those!” We set up our tent and quickly realized that we’d have to sit in our hot little tent, or in the car, if we wanted to have any respite from the relentless sun. We saw our other next-door neighbors (so close you could reach out and tug on their dirty dreads without straining) rigging up a tarp between their raised trunk hatch and tent. I remembered that I had brought a tarp, as well as a bunch of bungee cords and rope. Sil and I set about strategizing a make-shift canopy, and we were able to create a rather truncated but hell-at-least-we-got-this shelter within which we found sparse, but adequate respite from the baking heat. With our camping chairs setup in the small space between open trunk and tent we whiled away the hours until showtime. This was Friday, the 5th, the first day of Phish’s two-day stand, and I must admit to telling Silvie very early on in our stay that I already was regretting our trip.
After we settled in, I started to feel a bit more optimistic about our situation. We had food, water and shelter. Evening, and the concert, would have to arrive sooner or later. We passed the time chatting and snacking, while occasionally modifying our canopy as the sun creeped across the sky. All around us people talked, played music and partied as hearty as the temperatures would allow. At one point I decided to take a walk through the lines of cars and tents to find Shakedown and see what was being offered up. It was a long, hot walk. Shakedown was at the bottom of the camping area, a nice long row of tents hawking t-shirts, food, jewelry, and other goodies. Mushrooms seemed to be the choice whispered offering of the weekend, and there were the usual scattering of cooler jockeys offering, amongst other brews, my beloved Newky Brown. The actual real Furthur bus was parked in the area and I stopped for a brief second to check it out. I was wearing a Duquesne t-shirt and was stopped by a ragged little guy who graduated from the college in 2003 and was living in Denver. We chatted a bit; he was wasted but coherent, a nice guy. He gave me a couple of hits from his pipe right there in the middle of Shakedown Street. But his pipe was nearly spent already. We said goodbye and I headed back to the tent to see how Sil was faring. I poured a tall cup of wine and got a nice little buzz on (although I believe that buzz was pretty much quashed by the heat once we started walking to the show). The walk to the concert ground was loooong. At the end of the camping area there was a ridiculously lenghthy pathway through the dirt and chaparral to the venue. Security pat-down was both tedious and pointless. You are led into metal-railed chutes where the security personnel either a) do a cursory grope ‘n’ peak at your attire and bag, or do the slightly (but only slightly) more thorough move of asking you to faintly shift a few articles in your bag or pockets so that they can appear curious about the deeper contents, but really it’s just a time-wasting hassle and I can’t imagine there is anything you can’t easily smuggle into the place. I was wearing cargo shorts and was carrying a cell phone, camera, car keys, eyeglasses, and who knows what else. My guy felt a couple of my pockets and played a guessing game as to their contents. He was pretty good at guessing, but it really was a joke as far as a security check goes.
We found a nice patch of sloping lawn towards the back, stage left, and counted the minutes until the sun dropped behind the hills and the boys hit the stage. [insert standard comment regarding the immensely awe-inducing majesty of the setting here – this place really is amazing] The Phantastic Phour took their places and the show was on. The first set was a long one and while the band would, over the two nights, continue their tradition of not giving me any of my favorite tunes, it was a high-spirited set with two standouts: a seriously jammed-out cover of the James Gang’s “Walk Away” and a spacey “Roggae” which was soon to be hailed by some on the interwebs as the best Roggae ever. I can’t vouch for that, but it was nice, indeed. I had a bonding moment with a passing drunk guy, a big dude wearing a Dodgers T-Shirt, who put his arm around me while we belted out the lyrics together. During setbreak, another drunk guy scooted down the hill to chat about the first set. Particularly he wanted to try to identify one song he particularly enjoyed.
Drunk Guy: Hey, what was that one song they played, it was a couple songs after that one song that goes “I can see through the lines….” I think it was a Stones cover, and, man, they just…
Me: …jammed the shit out of it?
Drunk Guy: Yeah!!
Me: Yeah, that was a James Gang song.
Drunk Guy: Really?? I had one of their albums once….
This guy was actually pretty cool. He was staying in the Premier Camping area. We discussed the various camping options available (believe it or not the Gorge actually has 4 levels of camping: general, premier, terraced and something called “Glamping” which is a combination of the words Glamour and Camping and costs several hundred dollars) and Sil and I later decided that at twice the price of general camping, Premier Camping sounded like a not unreasonable idea.
The second set featured an uber-cool cover of the Velvet Underground’s “Rock and Roll” which stretched out magnificently, as well as “Meatstick” complete with dance moves and Japanese lyrics, as well as a groovy “Boogie On Reggae Woman” and for the encore yet another cover, the great Stones classic “Loving Cup”. Overall it was a satisfying show, and we headed back on the long night’s journey to our tent and some well-earned sleep.
I knew that the second day would in a major sense be a lot worse than the first, and I speak, of course, of the heat. The evening and night had been a very comfortable 60 degrees, perfect for sleeping, but I knew that we would wake up hot, and stay hot for a lot longer of a day than the first. I had anticipated being able to sleep until at least nine but was chagrined to note, upon waking up uncomfortably warm the next morning, that it was only 7:00 which meant a full 13(!) more hours until sunset. I tried to let Silvie sleep as long as she could, although I was dying to set up our canopy and get at least a semblance of airflow going through our camp space. When we were both sufficiently “up” we set about preparing our setup and breakfasted on Luna bars, kettle korn and bottled water. The second day turned out to be not all that bad – in fact we had a lot of fun, despite the heat. Our area, while cramped, was homey and breezes did come through from time to time. We chatted, played Boggle, listened to the radio, and snacked as the sun crawled overhead in a painfully slow arc. Mid-afternoon we locked up our trunk and set out on a walk to Shakedown. We snapped pics at the Furthur bus, browsed the goods for sale, and searched in vain for some good vegan vittles. Eventually Sil returned to the tent and I was able to find a vegan-tamale vendor. I bought 4 and headed to the site. The tamales were delish and I washed them down with some more burgundy wine. Showtime was nearing.
On the way to the show we were offered cash for an extra, and Sil decided to sell her ticket so that she could head back to the tent for a much-needed evening nap. So we said goodbye and I walked the hundred miles to the venue. I chose a spot near where we were situated the night before. The boys took the stage shortly after sunset and the first set was a bit of a dud, to be honest. The setlist was predictably weak, and the highlights were few and not all that memorable. The set was helped immensely by a J that was passed around and which I hit numerous times. By setbreak I was feeling pretty good, and then yet another drunk guy flopped down beside and proceeded to stomp all over my buzz. This guy was majorly, overly impressed with the first set, calling it “the best set by any band ever.” In all fairness, as I listened to it a few days later, I realized that it actually wasn’t half bad, but still his reaction was just a bit over the top. Anyway, this guy was pretty genial, and he was a Pittsburgh native. He was understandably surprised to learn that I was from Pittsburgh too. He had gotten separated from his friends and it took all setbreak for me to get him to go and look for them. He was cool. I hope he found his buds.
Second set more than made up for the first with a handful of choice tunes like “Chalkdust”, “Tweezer”, “Caspian” , “Reba” and “Antelope”. The encore featured “Suzy Greenberg” and “Sanity” before the inevitable “Tweprise”. A nice ending to a fun weekend with Phish at the Gorge. I hiked back to the tent and we grabbed what sleep we could before waking up extra early to decamp. I think we will do this again, if Phish comes around, but we’ll probably opt for the more spacious premier camping, and likely splurge for a canopy. And an ice chest. And maybe some battery-powered fans….
