“I came upon a child of God
He was walking along the road… ”
~Joni
Soundtrack for a Sunday Morning:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YZiTO1jqmEs
SkooliePalooza was in full swing this week. Attendance seemed sparce until last weekend and then they started coming in in droves. On one of our rides, Matt and I stopped to see the entirety of it from a distance.
Skoolie is a pop up city. There were lots of vendors; some with real skills, others selling their dubious “art.” There were all sorts of musicians; some good, some not so much. There were many, many drummers, and drum circles popped up nearly every night. Matt and I attended a few (alas, drum-less) and really enjoyed the meditative vibe.
There was a man parked near us who strung a high wire from our side of the ravine and connected it to a van on the opposite side. He performed some pretty amazing feats out in the middle, about 200 feet above the ground.
This year, Skoolie felt like Burning Man, Woodstock and Cirque du Soleil all rolled into one. It was truly a fun time. And the best part was that Matt and I set up camp at the far western edge, on a peninsula where we could walk several hundred yards and be in the thick of it and when we got tired, we could retreat to the “suburbs” and sit quietly in our compound next to our own fire.
There was a huge gay camp this year at the opposite end from our compound, with a sign that said “Welcome to the Gayborhood.” There have been many disco buses and DJ set-ups over the years, but none have even come close to the show the gay crowd put on this year.
I’d walk most mornings up to see Tie-Dye Bob and Jen, and along the way always encountered friends I’ve met in years past. I ran into Lee (a bagpiper) several times and my friend Leo (from Egypt) came on Thursday for the weekend. I met many new friends on my morning walks, or our nightly excursions. I’d often marvel at how much SkooliePalooza was a microcosm of “the real world” except here, people of all sizes and shapes, from all walks of life, managed to live in peace and harmony (for the most part) respecting each other’s differences and embracing diversity. To think of thousands of nomads, descending on this quiet, depressed little town and staying just outside the town limits on BLM land, and living as our own town for a couple of weeks was nothing short of stunning. I loved it.
Lessons From The Road: When it’s time to go, I know it. As was the case in The Magic Circle in late December, everything started to change rapidly at Skoolie late this week. The OG crowd was still there (mostly) but large numbers of partygoers started arriving. The atmosphere began to change, and you could feel that many who came were outsiders who showed up to play a part in their own YouTube channel nonsense. I was conflicted. On one hand, my FOMO was strong and I wanted to walk through the makeshift temporary town we’d created, greet my friends, shop for more things from the vendors who had worked hard at making something special, and connect with people who see another way to live life. On the other hand, a big piece of me was telling me it was time to get out. The “Faux-mads” were arriving in full force. The gathering was changing from a Woodstock-like festival to something else that wasn’t that appealing to me. I thought perhaps it was just me, but Matt felt it too. The words were barely out of my mouth: “I’m going to leave soon,” when Matt said “Yup. Not a good crowd anymore.” Before the words were out of HIS mouth, he was already taking down tarps and dismantling our compound. We packed up our entire camp Friday night before going to bed, leaving only what we absolutely needed to get through the night outside. Saturday morning, bright and early, we packed the final items and we left Skoolie and went into Blythe to stock up on supplies for the weeks ahead.
My lessons? First of all, I’m not an “event person” at least not anymore. I LOVE Skoolie and always enjoy the kind anarchy. Everyone–I mean EVERYONE in the pre-event gathering spoke to everyone else. I couldn’t walk down the street without smiles, waves, peace signs and kind words of greeting. But as the “city folk” (as Matt so correctly calls them) arrived, hordes of younger people roamed our makeshift village, not so much to add to it, but to perform for it. Matt and I would try to leave for our evening rides in the desert and inevitably, a crowd of young people vying for attention would be wandering around, blocking the roads, and acting indignant that anyone wanted them to move out of the way so we could pass. Cars would park every which way on the two main paths that connected the many aspects of the event, often blocking access and egress. It just became less fun. Many will leave Skoolie when it’s over and go on to the next outdoor gathering or rock concert in the desert, or some nomadic rave. I will not.
The second lesson is to listen to my gut. I knew in Quartzsite when the scales tipped to being a consumer event for pretend vagabonds, and I knew when it was time to leave. The same happened at Skoolie. I have to learn to listen to my gut and not let FOMO fool me into staying longer at any place where I am not happy.