All the Roadrunning

For three days I stood in the rain, I sank in the mud and I shivered in wet clothes. The live music coming from the assortment of bands was probably quite good, but unfortunately I barely listened. And even though I stood right there on that hillside field along with the 10,000 other festival attendees, there was little festive atmosphere once everyone’s clothes had been soaked through by the first evening.

The festival began on Friday afternoon and it ended on Sunday evening. It rained almost every minute of each day and it rained hard. Saturday was actually the wettest day of the year in the state of Victoria. What a time for the drought to end.

When every step you take has to be calculated correctly in order to avoid slipping and tumbling into a pile of shin-deep mud and your $1 poncho proves to be as useful as a sieve, you can not help but dream of being some place else. A land full of warm bedding and hot food where you don’t have to jump into an inflatable rubber dinghy and slide down a hill of mud to reach your destination.

On a positive note, my tent (which I had borrowed along with a sleeping bag from a friend who could not attend the festival) was the only one in our group of 6 tents that did not leak and flood within a few hours of being set up. The other 13 people in our group had to spend a considerable amount of time scooping cups of water out of their tent and then having to spend two nights sleeping in puddles.

Unfortunately, though, I had other problems to deal with. As I went to sleep late Friday night, I began to feel hundreds of small moths flying around inside my tent. They would enter my nose and ears, swarm around my eyes and even enter my mouth with each breath. I found myself constantly opening the front flap and trying to shoo them outside as best I could, while wondering exactly how 500 moths could have infiltrated my tent in the first place.

I ended up falling asleep only after wrapping a thick blanket tightly around my head and face, as the moths continued their attack around me.

It turns out that they were not even moths in the end. When I awoke in the morning, I discovered that I had actually been attacked by millions of fluffy white feathers that had come from a four-inch hole in the bottom of my borrowed sleeping bag.

The floor was covered in a one-inch thick layer of feathers as a result. And so too were my clothes, backpack, hair and even my face covered beyond recognition. It was like a snowy Christmas scene on a cold Australian summer day.

When I stepped outside, not only my friends, but the hundreds of other campers in the immediate vicinity were quite amused, that is until massive clouds of feathers came flying out of my tent and scattered all over their belongings as well. To make it worse, the rain was pasting every single feather to whatever it landed on. Before long, dozens of people were unsuccessfully trying to pull feathers off of their clothes, cars, beer cans and tents.

The festival pressed on all day Saturday, with music being played from 10am until 5am the following morning. Few people danced, few people spoke and few people sang along to the songs. In fact, the happiest and most energetic people were those that had just bought a cup of coffee after waiting for over an hour in line.

Nonetheless, everyone gave their best effort in making the most of an unfortunate situation. Sometimes you could even hear the prayers aimed at stopping the rain more clearly than the singer on stage. We all simply huddled around and waited, truly believing that the rain could not possibly last forever.

Alas, the sun broke through the clouds! On Sunday. At. 3:00pm. That the festival ended at 4:00pm did not matter. When the sun shone, the crowd roared and cheered, throwing their ponchos, winter hats and even shirts to the ground in celebration. The band playing on stage at the time thought that the cheers were for them and kept thanking the crowd for their support. But the band had only arrived an hour before their set and therefore had no idea what the crowd had been through. We couldn’t care less who was on stage at that point, even though we were screaming desperately for an encore. We wanted the sun to re-appear and salvage the last remaining remnants of this festival to remember.

The sun stayed out for about 30 minutes before hurriedly fading behind another thick layer of rain clouds. Ten thousand people suddenly had to find their ponchos, hats and shirts in the mud and put them on once again, as the rain arrived shortly thereafter.

Everyone gave a half-hearted cheer as the final band played its final song, but by that point, there was only a few hundred people left standing. My friends and I walked back to our campsite, packed up our stuff and drove off, almost completely in silence. We were exhausted, grumpy and in desperate need of showers.

A few minutes later and we were on the road back to Melbourne. The sun was shining again and there wasn’t a cloud to be seen.

And it hasn’t rained since, a most welcome change as I spend hours in the backyard each day trying to get the feathers out of my tent.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, December 16th, 2008 at 7:25 pm and is filed under Australia. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.