A couple weeks ago, I was in Grass Valley, CA at the California Bluegrass Association’s 32nd Annual Father’s Day Bluegrass Festival. Here’s the full report:
The Grass Valley stage area, where I spent about 1% of my time...
Wednesday
I got there in the afternoon, set up my tent and then walked around reconnecting with people I hadn’t seen since last year. You meet so many nice people from so many different places through this music — but I pretty much only see most of them at bluegrass festivals (meaning, a couple times a year). Needless to say, there was much jamming that evening, although it turned that we (John, Annie, Billy, and Sarah, who I was “camping with”) pretty much jammed all old-time (fiddle-banjo type) songs. It was fun! (Unfortunately, the excitement of jamming really doesn’t transfer well through a blog post…)
Thursday
By noon, we were baking, even though the fairgrounds is covered with tall, shady pines. Too hot to jam, too hot to nap… so we (the aforementioned crew) took a short half-hour drive to the Yuba river.
The swimming hole we went to was pretty popular, but the people were spread out so it wasn’t crowded. It was neat because these huge boulders were suspended above and in the water, and you could go through and dive underneath them. This one kid also found a 12-foot-long tunnel under one rock but none of us wanted to swim through that one. 
Some of the rocks were so slippery that they acted as natural water-slides! The current was very strong; we stayed away from the place upstream where a boy drowned a few years ago.
After we got back, we were all totally mellowed out from the swimming. Still, somehow we brought ourselves to jam some more that night. I got everyone to partake in my new Grass Valley tradition: a few years ago they started running a shuttle (flatbed trailer) around the fairgrounds to help folks get to and from the stage and their camp. Well, my first thought upon seeing this was, “Wow, we have to jam on this!” So Kyle and I started the tradition and every year I try to have at least one shuttle jam. This time it was a little dicey because the tractor pulling it was very loud and it was hard enough to hear the calls of “STOP!” and so on without shouting over a full bluegrass band. But it was fun anyway.
Friday
Workshop day. I was scheduled to teach two playing-by-ear workshops. These are hands-on workshops, directed at beginners or folks who play by rote but want to get more “fluent” with music. Unfortunately, it was advertised as nothing more than a “Playing By Ear Workshop” (the description I asked for wasn’t included) so nobody came with their instruments. I guess folks are used to other presenters (band members, usually) who mainly talk and answer questions and “show off”. It still went OK, however I do like I more when folks have their instruments, because it breaks up the talking a bit and I can help folks in person instead of ‘hoping’ they’ll understand it when they get back to camp.
In between workshops I tried to take a nap but it was hopeless–too hot. So I jammed with my ol’ buddies Sam and Mildred instead.
That evening I ran into Paige Anderson of the Anderson family. They’re a neat, six-member family that also does the family bluegrass band thing (and homeschools to boot!). I met them last year at the Plymouth bluegrass festival. 
Paige and I picked for a while at my camp and then on the shuttle (where her younger siblings made a very cute, enthusiastic audience). She’s a great guitar picker and a solid singer too. It’s funny, though… she’s so… polite, I guess you’d say… For example (this was right after we ran into each other and started walking to a jamming spot):
- Paige: Hey Luke, are you hungry?
- Me: Not really; I ate just a little while ago.
- Paige: OK, good.
- Me: …wait…are you?
- Paige: No, I’m fine.
I thought to myself: now there’s something I probably wouldn’t ask… unless *I* was hungry… 
A little later that night in a big jam back at camp, she asked one of the other guys (who was about to lead a song): “May I sing the tenor part with you on this song?” That’s in stark contrast to the way we usually claim such harmony parts: “TENOR!!!”
I turned in early that night — about 2 am — because I was kind of falling over from lack of sleep.
Saturday
Today — actually it was yesterday but I want to space things out a bit — I met the Boston Boys. Let me explain: Our friend Chris Smith went to New England a while ago and met these five guys who have a tradition of going to a new festival together every year, and Chris convinced them to come to the Father’s Day Festival this year. They were all really nice guys. Good pickers too. I didn’t even notice their accents at first, but as the night drew on I noticed them more and more.
I hate this guitah! It sounds like cahdboahd! –Brian
One of the guys, Joe, quickly achieved legendary status around the camp for being able to sing like Joe Val, who was a New England bluegrass singer who could sing really high and really loud. It was amazing! Hard to believe an actual human being was singing those notes — and a male one at that.
Ed told me about how, in New England, the ocean will sometimes freeze over. I’d never heard of that! Salt water freezes at a colder temperature than fresh water, so you know that’s cold. Apparently, it gets so think that people can drive over it — though that’s not usually recommended.
Later on, I got a vegetarian Philly Cheese Sub at the Blue Sun cafe (a vendor at the festival) with Billy and Sarah. It was good, but I needed something to drink with it and I didn’t necessarily want a Coke or something — and I will not pay $1.50 for a bottle of water. So I looked around for something interesting… and I noticed there was a stand that only sold Root Beer — Ray’s Caveman Root Beer. 
They advertised it as “Caffeine Free!” (so is all root beer), “Alcohol Free!” (well, duh) and “High Fructose Corn Syrup Free!” Well, that was interesting; soft drinks used to be made of real sugar, whereas in America it’s all corn-based now (Mexico still has sugar-based cola, though). So I said, what the heck, even though it was $3 a mug ($1 refills).
It tasted like a weird, watered-down version of what I was used to. It was really quite terrible; I was enjoying the ice cubes more than the drink itself. I gave a sip to my friend Roz and she noted that it seemed flat… I then re-checked the sign: “Carbonation Free!” WHAT?!? No bubbles? That’s like fat-free bacon! (Or Michaelangelo’s David without his “gear.” —Kyle) Lesson learned.
Sunday
After catching a set of the Southern Grass (Dan Paisley and crew) and their beefalicious (i.e., beefy, bassy, driving, “oomph-filled”) rhythm, we left. What a weekend!
