Three Days In Woodstock

Woodstock Traffic Jam

The ride from Woodstock to Max Yasgur’s farm in Bethel, New York is a stained glass portrait of mountain ranges that unfurl in rhythmic piecemeal. Inside the deep emerald wound of birches, maples, cedars, hornbeams and spruce, you can taste the flavor of a thousand years worth of patience.

Geologically speaking, the Catskills are not considered mountains but rather, a dissected plateau. I’m not much for geological definitions when there is a romance to be gleaned in the union of these highly rambunctious summits that are busy stealing time with the skies above. So I call them mountains, and these mountains . . they’re very particular about the company they keep.

Sexy Hitcher

The sixty mile stretch between two historic towns is a Henry Beeston field trip. We pass rudimentary walking bridges, intractably constructed man made dams, gorgeous hiking trails and handsome colonial log cabins with stovepipe chimneys and front porches adorned with American flags.

The road names that carry us to our destination read like verses straight out of American Gothic- Watson Hollow to Peekamoose to Sundown. The pulse of these arteries beats in time with the letters of Washington Irving and the allegories of Thomas Cole as we pass exit signs for Swan Lake and Monticello.

And it is all so fucking beautiful that I’m not nearly as concerned as I should be over the fact that my fuel gauge is swimming at low tide. It ain’t helping that we haven’t passed a gas station since leaving Woodstock, or that it feels more likely we’ll find Jimi Hendrix hitching to Bethel than a fucking convenience store with gas pumps. No wonder only half a million peeps showed up at the Woodstock festival. The other half a million ran out of gas along the way . . .

woodstock car

There is no sign of Jimi, but we went scoreboard on the gas station, after which we close in on our destination whilst trying not to sound overly optimistic. Because the truth of the matter is that we don’t know if this destination is going to feel like 1969 or a cheapened rendition of that very special place in time.

As we turn right onto Hurd Road, Q snaps a shot of the sign which reads Welcome to Bethel Center For The Arts– the sign is cypress wood with raised letters in painted wrought iron. It owns a polish that gives me pause, seeing as how I do not equate the three day festival of peace and music with any kind of polish. Woodstock was a beautiful mess is what it was.

Bethel Woods Sign

To say the parking area is expansive is like saying Carlos Santana was skilled with the six string. We park in one of the several alien sized football fields and make our way to the pearly gates of music heaven. And once again I’m struck with how polished the place looks. The main building houses conference rooms, banquet halls and a museum. First impression? The architecture resembles an effete non-denominational church with money to launder and pastors on retainer. In other words, the shit is all polish and no grit . . and I am feeling major pause.

Having Q as my partner in crime sets my boots straight and allows me to dream some. And so now I’m dialing up that concert in my head and I’m letting myself dream on whats to come. And now I just know Imma open those doors and Jimi’s gonna be waiting on us. And he’s gonna be wondering where in the fuck all the gas stations between here and New York City got to. And then he’s gonna ask us if we’ve ever been to space.

And then? He’s gonna take us.

54 thoughts on “Three Days In Woodstock”

  1. B,
    Love where you took this. Man oh man. Your sense of observation is beyond keen…you have brought me right back there and jigged my memory on stuff like those cool names of towns and that we were low on gas and gas stations were few and far between and the beauty of the road to the farm…
    And they ARE mountains… Catskill MOUNTAINS πŸ˜‰ Not to be confused with the Rockies ‘coz they ain’t. They are their own thing. A beautiful thing.
    Being your partner in crime was a privilege and a joy, for shizzle.
    Now, what up? You talk about Jimi then put Joe? Nice little twist there…
    Lotsa love,
    Q

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Q,
      Observation was my hobby as a young ‘un. I watched everything and everyone, and then I made up stories in me brain, lol.
      The fact that the venue was sixty miles away from where we were staying ended up being a good thing, I think. Because yeah, that road trip . . especially the front end of it, was visually stunning.
      And the fact that half a million peeps traveled to Woodstock in spite of the dearth of gas stations . . incredible!
      How could I not fit Joe in here somewhere? Especially since the song fits and he does have something in common with Jimi, in that they both sang the classic “Hey Joe”.

      To Joe and Jimi

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      1. I am always amazed that some, like you, remember certain deets, while I wonder if I was even there. (I will remember certain things, though!)
        Agreed. Visually stunning and ooh. Good word – dearth!
        Of course yes, Joe, you know I was teasing…

        To Joe and Jimi and Janet (figured I throw another J in there)

        Liked by 1 person

      2. There are certain seemingly innocuous scenes to which my brain is somehow wired into. Now . . ask me what I had for dinner last night . . . hmmm.
        Dearth is a favorite word of mine, and “Hey Joe” a favorite song
        Joe, Jimi, Janet and uh . . what’s a word for the wacky weed? Buahahaha!

        Liked by 1 person

      3. Lucky for us those seemingly innocuous scenes do tap into your memory banks…
        Dearth is a GREAT word and Hey Joe is a great song.

        Joe, Jimi, Janet,, joints (both the great places to hang out and that wacky tabacky that makes any place great…)

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      1. Oh how cool! That would be quite the adventure for you two. Although traveling out west would really be something special. I’m sure he would have some great spots the two of you could visit!

        Liked by 1 person

  2. I clearly need to do some driving in that neck of the woods. We drove through upstate New York a number of years ago, but mostly on the turnpike. We stayed in Northville for a couple of days, drove to Cooperstown, then to NYC. Your descriptions make me want to go back and go a little slower.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. We stayed in Ilion for a night (my wife spent a few years there as a child) and then a couple of nights in Northville. It is a place I’d like to spend more time in. Just so long as I don’t have to go back to NYC.

        Liked by 1 person

  3. Living in the adopted home state of the now since passed rocker (BTW I think the Mad Dog Ranch may still be available in Crawford, Colorado), I have to confess to loving the former gas fitter from Crookes’ style. RIP Joe. The good folks of Crawford loved Joe and all he did for music and the community. Thanks for sharing a super video performance from a super musical convergence event.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Joe Cocker never cheated his fans out of a performance tell you what. He put EVERYTHING into them, and the results were always memorable.
      I’m glad you liked it! This was perhaps the easiest video selection thus far.

      Liked by 1 person

  4. Funny, how all the grittiest spots in American history- Valley Forge, Jamestown, Gettysburg, Antietam,Tippecanoe, The Wilderness, Lorraine Motel -and Yasgur’s Farm, have to be all tidied up, so nobody gets the proper amount of soiled, in their visiting expereince.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Righteous,
      You have a point! Aesthetics win the day, damn the resonance of the event or time period. And this place was no different, at least in terms of the grounds that surround the site. Thankfully, and to their credit, the site itself is virtually untouched.

      Like

      1. Buahahaha!
        Believe it or not, I was never much of an Elvis fan. I mean, I dig his music but I do not have a single piece of Elvis music in my collection!

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      2. FYI: The article mentions Tippy Dye (OSU All-American) … went on to be AD at Northwestern (I think). The gym at the old school in my hometown had a large picture of him … hometown kid that made it … and my uncle played basketball with him.

        Liked by 1 person

      3. It is interesting living between two prima donas … 2 hours to the north, OSU – god’s gift to college football … 2 hours to the south – UK – god’s gift to college basketball. Don’t believe, just ask them.

        Liked by 1 person

      4. Not to get all philosophical, but if everybody loves you . . ain’t nobody love you for real. These schools might consider that if they weren’t so high on themselves.

        Like

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