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.
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 . . .
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.
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.
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 😉 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
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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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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)
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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!
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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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MWAH!
And . . Do they say joints anymore? And if not? Why not? 😉
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MWAH!
Hmmm. Good question. Most of em usr bongs and pipes now… old school (😉) still use joints…I think.
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The joint is a spectacularly gritty definition for the marijuana delivery system. Bowls and bongs feel like something Pier 1 would (does) sell.
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Could not agree more….
By the way… my 18-year son just confirmed to me that joint is still in the lingo… 😉
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For reals?
Hey guys! We have a live one down here! Administer 20 cc’s of the Merriam “Cheech” Webster Dictionary! STAT!!
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For realz! Woo hoo! and Buahahahahah!
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😉
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This is magnificent. Its so evocative and beautifully written that I feel like I’m there. It must be amazing country.
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Deb,
It really is. So quaint and rustic.
Thank you for the love!
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More than welcome. I just wanna go there !!! 🙂
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You would love it!
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I know I would. Well if and when Scott and I ever meet i’m going to America for the first time. He is from San Antonio and Woodstock would be on my itinerary for sure.
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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!
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I know. I cant wait 🙂
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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.
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King,
It’s quite a lovely road trip indeed! I’ve not been to Cooperstown yet, as an adult anyway. But there are so many cool little towns all throughout upstate New York.
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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.
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It’s funny because the last few times I’ve been to New York, it hasn’t been to NYC .
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Well done, Marc. After all, Woodstock is in the heart not on a polished panel.
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John,
You know eggsactly what I’m talking about! I wasn’t sure whether I was going to be witnessing the site of music history or eighteen holes of the golf from the looks of it.
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Ha haha. I can understand your concern.
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I knew you would Boss.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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*experience
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Wow … the story itself is one thing, but your writing in this post is outstanding!
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Cincy,
In the immortal twang of Elvis. “Wha Frank . . thank ya . . . thank ya very much!”
In the rather mortal bang of yours truly, I am duly pleased that you think so.
Gracias
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Just for you … https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YMsCeDxmNCw
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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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PS: Off topic … Here’s a local article that you will appreciate. https://cin.ci/2PGw4ay
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The Celts sound like my kind of team! And man . . to think the Romans could have been playing , in the Coliseum. It would really have been a treat when the Lions came to town.
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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.
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Tippy Dye is such a great name, I miss the great names from back in the day.
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And more … https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tippy_Dye
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He coached up at THE Ohio State. And I get a kick out of how college players used to go up against the pros in exhibition games. It would never happen today!
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Quite the career!!!!
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Indeed!
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For the record, I’m one who does not add The in any OSU reference.
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Thank goodness! I do it for satire, LOL.
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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.
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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.
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Do you know the 3 differences between OSU football fans and UK basketball fans?
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Wassat?
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The ball they worship …. The color they wear … One has teeth.
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Buahahaha!
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Reblogged this on From 1 Blogger 2 Another.
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Thank you!
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