It has been said,”the only thing of certainty in life is change.” We make plans about our lives, our goals, and even what we will have for breakfast. It changes in a New York heart beat. In the last few months I have seen this played out over and over with the adventures I have had with The Blue Water Traveler. I no longer demand cream with my coffee, it may have gone bad. The base line camp meal of burgers that was planed for might be replaced with an offer of grilled shrimp.
     I did not say all of the changes that life tosses at us are unpleasant. My first trip to Wheatland Traditional Music Festival was no different. A weekend trip simply became a day trip. We would not have to load Mary Jane up and pack what seems to be everything we own, “that part is always nice.” Mary Jane, still waiting for her heart transplant, would stay comfortably at a special care facility.
     This trip we would be traveling light. I do mean light, as my MX5 does not have enough room for more than two people and a small amount of gear. I know, a real man would never buy a car that is too small to get a case of long necks in the trunk. Still, it was all we needed and after so many plans suffering from the winds of fate. I did not see any reason to plan for the unexpected. I had no reason to.
     This was my first time at this event. I didn't have much in the way of expectation. Fate was kind that morning and with the top down and a few hours sleep, we were on our way. A full weekend at Wheatland is a time trip, both to the past and into the possibilities of what will be.
     The festival is held on a 180 acre farm in central Michigan. It is born of the music and the creativity of past generations. It continues into the future by inspiring the next generation without the loss of the beauty of what came before.    
     This trip was without incident unless you take into consideration my co-pilot sleeping through key interchanges. The positive note was he was rested for the event. I will take the hit on that one as I was the one that wanted to keep playing my guitar the night before. This had left us running on 3 hours sleep. For me, not a problem as I seem to run off adrenaline when I have something new to experience. 
     Through the course of the three hour drive, I managed to pump enough coffee into Josh that he was not moving like an extra from the Night Of The Living Dead. More to the point, the energy of the festival is infectious.There is a positive energy from the moment you pull up to the gates. Waiting in line was not a problem, there were no horns and people seemed to have brought with them whatever positive resources they had.
     In this it is hard to express, but from this artist’s perspective the world seemed to be left behind. It was not going to be a day of discussing the government, money, or lost homes. Today it was going to be about music, old friends and perhaps the friend that was still to be met.
     Wheatland is in its 38th year and has grown from a small event to this year's sell-out event of over 16,000 . There are other events that I have been to but not with the history. In this I mean, I had the pleasure of meeting people that had been there when they where children. It was and is still is a place for families. So much so that new generations bring their children.    
     As I walked through the grounds, my peregrination would be punctuated with the sound of a name being called out, and another reunion would ensue. I was amazed when I was on the receiving end of this scenario. Brief encounters become memorable moments. People that may only remember you from a song that you played, or a conversation held in between a performance, pop in and out of your life at events like this. It is for me, these moments that make life exciting.
     I did not have the advantage of experiencing the whole weekend, something that I hope to correct next year. I knew this as Josh and I wondered through the camp ground. Yes! If you go this route, wear shoes meant for walking. The camp areas are extensive, and while you can hop on one of the courtesy golf carts that are driven up and down the trails, I’m of the opinion that by foot is the best way. It is here that you meet the people that make this event one of the best. 
     Each area has a different feel. Up in the trees you will find tents, old V.W. buses and a very creative approach to this event. Sculptures made from vines, sticks and things found in the woods adorn many of the camp sites. Of course there was the ubiquitous tie-dyed flags and clothing. I did say that this event embraces the past. Right? It is in this area you will also find large tents set up for learning sessions in bluegrass and folk music. A little further down the wooded trail will bring you to another area where you can catch an open-mic session. A few yards away, another tent is set up for people to experience making art. Here both adults and children can be found laughing and creating memories. The product of making something that they will hold on to so that the memories stay clear.  
     As we entered the open area that once produced crops, things changed again. The fields now held a different crop. Here campers and motor-homes dominated the scene, A village of a different kind had grown up within hours of opening day. This is impressive as this property becomes a community within hours of the gates opening. The shear logistics of even parking that many campers in a short amount of time pays tribute to this group of people. The organization behind this transformation is impressive. When I say organization I am including many volunteers that work so hard to make this transformation complete.
     Cutting back through the trees Josh and I came to an area that seemed to be delineated for musicians. Nice. Here we found a different sort of magic. The sound of guitars, mandolins, flutes and a variety of percussion instruments dancing on the wind. Groups playing at one camp site faded into the next.The doors are open, there are no doors. You may linger as long as you like. You might simply say thank you and move on or stay and get to know the musicians that have just given you the gift of music. A smile is all that seems to be required. 
     It was here that Josh and I met people that had connections to our home town. Players, artists and dreamers alike, we all have a connection and are drawn to each other. It was here that Josh and I met Marko, and Ron. Marko and I had a friend in common that did tattoos. Ron played with another musician, Katie Whitest, that lived in the small community that Josh and I live in. Big world, small world, you decide.
     This serendipitous event occurred when we stopped to listen to a band called Rickety Nelsons. They were playing by the path that lead to the Emerald City. Sorry that is another story. No, it was the path that led us back to the main stage. At Marko’s insistence he would lead the way. A short detour back to his camp site was all he said was needed.
     Along the way we came through an area that was once a fence row. Here the fieldstone offered raw materials for those with a creative mind set. Their efforts yielded rock configurations reminiscent of the Inuit stone constructs used to delineate the directions one needed to follow. 
     This led us to Marko’s camp in a wooded area near the main stage. From here one could hear the music and move closer when the music demanded it. It was only a short time that we talked when the music demanded that it was time to move on to the stage. The band Rythmic Circus was about to perform. This was a band that we had been hearing about all day. A group that combined the newest sounds, a jazz funk beat interlaced with rap and dance..the dance part? Easy. 
     Born of thousands of years of traditional ritual dance in Africa, America and the British Iles. Rap? Now that one has an even longer history that can be followed back into the early time of story tellers. The beats of the fifties with bongos punctuating poems that were spoken before the world was ready to hear them. The music of Gill Scott that carried the spoken word into the21st century. That is what traditions are born of.
     The band was a perfect blend of past and future coming together without loss. In between the main stage and the camping sites was another world. This is where you will find food vendors, arts,crafts and a dance pavilion. At the dance pavilion I was able to watch people getting a lesson in square dancing. Some were first timers, others had been enjoying this form of dance for a long time. Missed steps, always a given, was dealt with encouragement and laughter. The way any new art form should be instructed. We remember the things that make us laugh and become a little better for it.
     The art show was not large. A lot of the work was what you find at any small art fair; jewelry, pottery, clothing and of course a lot of tie-dyed crafts. There were also metal sculptures and blown glass that had a nice edge to some of the work. I could see this being expanded on, but that will take time and perhaps a few more artists looking for a different venue to share there work.   
     At this point in the day my boots were covered in dust. Josh and I had walked enough that I had worn the tip off my favorite walkingstick. I was hungry! I love trying new things and this was fun. I could go on about the choices, but in short there was a good number of them. I don’t think well when I’m in need of fuel. Which one has the shortest line?” Was what I replied to Josh when he asked, “what do you want to eat?” An organic food co-op produced what I needed. Picnic tables provided a family atmosphere. It seemed to be the rule , if you were there for the festival you had something in common with the person sitting next to you. A sense of common courtesy was without a doubt one of the most refreshing aspects of this event. There were no police or guards dictating rules that were unnecessary.There is not a beer tent at Wheatland to segregate those that wish to have a drink, nor are people that smoke restricted to a small area. These things are simply are done in a way that shows respect for both the people and the event it’s self. I will not say that this a gathering of saints. It is not. It is a place where one only has to be mindful of others. 
     Given that it takes place on a 160 acres, there is space for everyone to experience this event in their own way. We listened to more music and then took a trip to the instrument builders tent. Here I was more interested in trying out new hand-built guitars and mandolins than getting a story. I did try to encourage Josh to get the information so we could write about one of the craftsmen. I couldn’t help it. I get distracted by shiney things. This is especially true when the things that I have been distracted by make such a beautiful sound. Josh being the good friend he is knows my limitations. He did what was needed and you may read about the craftsman that had so impressed me.
     Walking back to the car, Josh and I reviewed the day but more importantly, we started putting together a list of must-have’s for next year. First on the list was getting to the event early. Campsites go fast and if you know where you want to camp ,that is a must. Second, we will need to make sure that we have enough to share, food, drinks, tobacco, you name it. We have already been on the receiving end as we were day trippers. There is a bus that makes trips into town, but that means you have to leave. For me that just seems to be a waste. We will pack extra! Third, who will we bring? Yes this is an event that is meant to be shared with friends and family. It was decided that next year The Blue Water Traveler would be sharing this adventure with others as it happens.

The Tin Man