Festival Flying

Atop the light fixture, Stellar Jays have built a nest for five - mama, papa, and three hungry hatchlings. The folks staying in Cabin Five don’t turn on their porch light for fear of creating cooked little “squab” jays. I stayed the night in adjoining Cabin Six, compliments of an invitation from my new Berkeley friends Daphne and Don. Camping at the Kate Wolf Festival in Laytonville, California is for the birds, the young, the stoic, or insane. The average temperature is “in tents” - ranges between 98 to 106 degrees in the afternoon.

While I did bring my tent, by Saturday night I was droopy of wing, having left Oakland that morning before sun-up. By 10:00 p.m., after Smokey Robinson had reminded me why he was one of my favorite heart-throbs in the sixties, and after glowing orbs were tossed by merry-makers as high as the buttermilk clouds that swallowed the moon, I followed the path of least resistance, and we three festival goers went twenty minutes further up 101 to a peaceful place on the banks of the Eel River. I was grateful to spread my sleeping roll on the futon in the living room of Cabin Six.

Up by 6:00, I observed the elder jays feeding the youngsters, then side-stepped poison oak on the narrow path down to the river. The rush of water over smooth stones filled my senses. Eyes registered the hypnotic drought-defiant tumble and swirl; ears were nourished by the nearly forgotten sound of gush and gurgle; the ol-factories, (not on strike), picked up the scent of cool mud, damp mosses, and mugwort. Mugwort! Good! It’s a repellant to mosquitoes which found my skin boundary permeable and stepped up to the bar. Mugwort is also good for inviting lucid dreams when tucked under the pillow. I crushed a leaf and swabbed and daubed myself with its fragrant essence on face, neck, hands, and feet. Dang mosquitoes got through my jeans! Must be the genes. Sweet blood eggs ‘em on, my Daddy used to say.

At the Festival Sunday, I guarded my energy, knowing I wanted to stay for Lisa Fischer’s gig at 8:00pm, and still have enough meewee to drive safely, the three hours to home. Mercifully, Sunday afternoon, some strong winds kicked up. By opening all the doors and tail gate of my car, I could nap fairly comfortably. Gorgeous sounds of Judy Collins' lilting voice as she led a singalong of favorites were a perfect lullaby. Who Knows Where the Time Goes, when listening to Judy Blue Eyes? I was glad I got to hear and see her on the main stage Saturday afternoon.

Truly, when I first saw the flier for the 20th Anniversary edition of the Kate Wolf Festival, the first “must hear” name that jumped out at me from the screen was Lisa Fischer. In the documentary film, “Twenty Steps from Stardom,” her astonishing voice is featured. Her precisely perfect passion poured into my soul through ear canals as hungry and wide open as those baby birds' mouths. She’s been stuck to my marrow ever since. I watched that film three times! Ms. Fischer is one of the most in-demand back-up singers, and has performed with Sting, Stones, and Nine Inch Nails.

I left the concert filled with the sounds and images she gave us to keep. My favorite of her short seven song set is called Freedom. Memorable lyrics are: It’s just another bird in this house, bumpin’ into walls, dyin’ to get out… Free my mind, free my soul… I just want to be with my own kind and know that I belong…


This bird flew home and didn’t get cooked. I’m hoping the same is true for the bird family atop the light fixture of Cabin Five at the Big Bend Lodge.

It was a fine festival.