Sound Check:
Summer. When the sky is clear of stormy snow clouds, the ground is alive, and warm waters welcome you. As was true for many, our summer was highlighted by glorious sunshine and an excursion deep into nature, in search of phish. Our destination: Maine, home to towns like Seboomook, Meddy Demps and Eggemoggin. In the oh so very green county of Aroostook, we focus on Limestone. The fish are best there. Years of experience and hundreds of thousands of phishermen tell us so. We invite you now to cast your eyes on our phishtale, so perhaps next succulent summer, you’ll phish with us.

Our trip begins at 11 p.m. in Bahston, home of the Green Monster and clam chowder, just two of the many things in that charming city that we chose not to check out, as we were very ready to start our trip. A quick scoop up at the airport and a switch of cars at Avis, and we two, a New Yorker, and a Miami native were on the road driving a gorgeous, cherry red, Blazer stocked with supplies, speeding up coastal New England’s speediest highway, I-95, to a far greener place.

Two and a half hours of catchy conversation and countless double yellow lines later, we found ourselves crossing the Maine border. It was late, and we had had a long day. We felt we were ahead of many making the long journey up north to the show, so we decided to hit a hotel and go to sleep.
After indulging ourselves with a late sleep we went to the grocery store and hit the road at about 2:30 on Friday afternoon. Remember that time, guys, 2:30 p.m., on Friday afternoon. The road was clear for us in Maine, we zipped by Portland and Augusta and then Bangor, we continued due north to about 100 miles south of the abandoned Loring Air Force in Limestone Maine before we decided this spot would be a good place to make one final stop for gas and ice. Pulling into the parking lot we noticed that every other car there was on their way to the same place, the show. It was there our trip really began:

1. The Set List:

a. Day One:
i. Maine is phriendly.
ii. Traphic.
iii. Got bags?
iv. Got bags?
v. The Pherris Wheel.
vi. The sunset.
vii. The mud.
viii. The sleeping set.

b. Day Two:
i. A new day/breakfast…
ii. The plan – avoid traphic.
iii. Shopping.
iv. Vintage Phish.
v. Northern Lights.
vi. Between sets.
vii. The sprint.
viii. Cops suck no matter where you are.
ix. Some cops suck less than others.

Maine is Phriendly:
Tanks and coolers full, our inventory was 4 days of clothes, two tents, two cans of Deep Woods Off, two tarps, one 50-foot rope, sleeping bags and blankets, two ponchos, personal items and a ton of hooch. As we enjoyed a smoke outside that Exxon station in Maine a middle-aged man approached. He came up to us on his way into the station and told us that all of us (meaning the 70, 000 phans who were driving through Maine) were missing out on the beautiful view of Mount Katahdin, the highest peak in Maine. His simple directions next had us zooming up a steep incline.
The view came over the top of hill as we ascended, and was truly pristine. Directly north, Katahdin dominated the horizon. It was breath-taking, climbing high into the cloud line, the setting sun choreographed a sweet spectrum of cloud colors ranging from bright orange to vibrant pink and then down to the deep-hearted purples of the oncoming night to our far right. We took ten minutes to enjoy these fruits given to us by a random act kindness by the Maine man, a guy who had probably seen this scene more than enough times to know that it would be a true shame to miss it.

We saw Katahdin one more time, miles later, and were treated to a view of it directly to our left as we drove East, as well as, two similarly impressive peaks - one directly in front of us on the road and the other to our right. It seemed that in all directions except the road behind, mountainous Maine was inviting us to bask in its glory.
Traphic:

From experience we expected to hit a massive traffic jam outside of the concert. After all, isn’t there bound to be a bottle-neck when 20,000 cars arrive to get into a concert at a single entrance? We hit the jam at 9:30 p.m. and, as we assumed we were about 15 miles outside of the gate.

At 10:30 we had not moved an inch! At 11:30 we had cruised forward a cool 100 yards. Over the next five hours we slept, and talked and danced to our favorite tunes in the middle of Route 1, and in all that time we went forward less than a 1 mile. At about 8:00 a.m. we started to roll forward at a semi-regular clip. Between 8:00 a.m. and 12 noon the only drama that occurred starred me, hygiene-conscious, civilized me, running into the pine-trees and popping a squat in a safe place, for there were no porcelain havens at this bend in the road.

At about 1:30 p.m. our traffic jam ended as we saw the gate to the airforce base ahead, marked with two 30-foot tall cardboard cut-outs of runway attendants complete with orange flashlights in each hand, waving us in. The cardboard giant on the left held his arms straight up in the air, and his partner held his arms extended directly out from his shoulders so that together they formed the name of our festival: “IT”. All told, we formed part of this mentally challenging metal millipede of red brake lights for 16 hours, and traveled a total of 16 miles!

Got Bags?
Having finally pulled up to the gates to the show, we gladly took two huge garbage bags for recyclables from a girl with a tee shirt that read “clean vibes”. The “clean vibes” campaign pushed for everyone to clean up after themselves using these bags. Such enviro-phriendly efforts were everywhere at Limestone, and we found it very easy to take care of the environment in a place where conscious regard for preservation was the norm and not the exception.

Got Bags?

Most phisherguys and phishergals are nice, very giving people: skeptical of no one, trusting and chill. Sitting on the porch of our recently erected tent, a dude approached us in a doo-rag. Looking like he just slithered out of a dark alley in Gotham City, he appeared odd against the natural Maine sky. Offering to buy a beer from us, we gladly handed him one free of charge. After taking a sip, but before he took a step, he took out a nice little bud and gave this favor to us for the gift we had given him.

This type of “this for that” exchange is what gives shows like the one we were at nice feel, like a jig on a reel. Within the hippified system that followed our favorite band, offers like “You have a bowl I’ll pack it”, or “Can I have a hit? You can swig this bottle of Jack” are commonly heard in the show, and on the campgrounds. It seems in talking to many of my phriends who have never been to a Phish show, that the reason they are hesitant to join the fun is that they will feel out of place or uncomfortable amongst these “tree huggers”. The funny part is that these simple and kind people are the reason they would enjoy it so much.

The Pherris Wheel:
We were summoned from our campground by the first notes of the last show of this year’s summer tour. The walk to the show gates was about a half a mile from our tents. We walked through a giant archway that read “all we do is for your enjoyment” and into a carnival with a concert off in the distance. There were carnival rides of all sorts, falafel stands, pizza tents, lemonade ladies, a sea of human billboards sporting the funniest shirts you have ever seen including one reading “I smell” and countless other costumes and get-ups ranging across the board of human imagination. Turning to our left we saw a giant Ferris Wheel and we watched a lot of the first set perched high above the ground. Flying through the breeze in a sky of pure blue, we were elated; we felt happy, young and excited; we were phishing again.

The Sunset:
We watched the sun go down from our campsite. The Maine sunset boasted the kind of colors that inspire philosophical conversation. Over a beer we spoke, awe-struck, by the setting sun, of many things. We felt the logistical struggle of the traffic and lack of sleep was over and couldn’t wait for two more sets, but even more so for a good night of sleep and what we both knew would be a phenomenal second day.
Phish always delivers, and the band always improvises to the mood of their loyal phollowers. We knew they would take it easy because of how hard everyone had worked to get through the traffic, and that they would come back the next day harder and better and more original than ever. About five minutes after sun-down the long high-pitched guitar sounds of Trey Anastasio beckoned all of us relaxing at our campgrounds back to the lighted stage in the middle of the darkness of the forests of Maine.

The Mud:
Sloshing around in the darkness and sinking up to our ankles at times in the mud was a bummer. There were basketball court sized moats of mud. In the dark, they were unavoidable, but eventually everyone laughed and joked about it as we made our way in and out of the two nighttime sets. It was cool once even once you realized it was highly likely you could end up butt-up in the mud. For the last set at the main stage we made it to about 30 rows from the front, but we had an equally sweet time dancing further back in better space. Muddied, and tired we returned to our campsite.

The Sleeping Set:
What could be better than three delicious servings of phish? A fourth! Rumors were rampant of a surprise fourth set to be played from the tippy top of the air traffic control tower at 3 a.m. Exhaustion won out over excitement as the rumor became reality, visions of sugarplums were dancing in our heads. Refreshed, we awoke at 10:30 a.m. to find out the fourth set had been a terrific ensemble of jam-tunes and aerial dancers, all tucked behind fog machines and colored lights.

Backwoods Breakfast:
When we woke up we felt as if we had been shot out of a cannon. Boom, time to arrange some breakfast. We dined on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, jarlsburg cheese, organic fruit, salami, Italian bread, and cashews. MMM MMM Good! Now, some camping veterans will tell you that there is nothing better than grilling up eggs, or French toast, or bacon in the morning on a hibachi in the wild. However, speaking from experience, when Phishing - keep the food simple, and catch what hot food you can when you can. The hibachi process takes up a whole morning and the hassle is not worth the reward. A cooler filled with some already prepared favorites is best.

Your neighbors will likely offer you a burger or a dog, and good food can be had on the walk to the shows, or on the show grounds themselves. Many true Phish heads pay their way through the tour by making grilled cheeses, every kind of burrito, hamburgers, veggie-burgers and every other kind of assorted home-made, scrumptious morsels, and they go for anywhere from one to five bucks. They are surprisingly delicious and fresh, and one feels like they are scratching another’s back, as they are filling their belly with wonderful stuff.

Additionally, Phish brings in great vendors featuring a wide array of foods in the main village and along the sides of the show grounds. We saw Indian, Chinese, Greek, Italian, Vegetarian, Vegan, and good old American BBQ in our travels. The cheapest at the show was a slice of pizza for three bucks while the most expensive was a “load your own wrap” with chicken, beef, falafel, and every fresh veggie and condiment under the sun, for ten bucks. As you can see, we were rather food-focused on our trip, and ate quite well. Where else can you go camping and actually put on a few pounds?

The Plan…Avoid Traphic:
After a few leisurely hours at the campsite, we decided on a plan. We packed up our car and a backpack so that right after the show we could get out ahead of the 20,000 cars that would be leaving at about the same time. The traffic out can be just as bad as the traffic coming in. After the first set we would check out the village and do some shopping. Our car was loaded up, tents and all, and I carried a backpack full of goodies for the shows.

Shopping:
We picked up some beautiful hand-blown glass, some shirts and dry goods for us and phriends, and the best pizza ever 650 miles away from New York City. Artisans and craftsmen of all sorts set up tents all over the main village. Beautiful hand crafted wood boxes, flowing dresses, original prints and paintings and every style of glass paraphernalia an avid kind bud connoisseur could ever dream of were abundant for the taking. We scored some custom items that will remind us of the show for decades.

Vintage Phish:
Planning to drink a few cold beverages before the second set we decided it would be better just to get to the stage because it was getting to be that time of the night. Phish usually starts playing just as dusk gives way to night; and the light was now fading. We didn’t need beers or anything else, we were having a ball, and these sets would be ridiculous, the energy was tangible. Everyone was rushing into the show grounds well before the first notes were sounded. We no longer tried to avoid the mud, we walked right through it where others would not to get closer to the stage. It was dark now.

The lights of the stage came on, and 70, 000 people smothered the cafeteria-type bustling noise with raging cheers. The same thought crossed all of our minds…what would they play? They played a classic intro tune called “Mellow Mood”, before breaking out “Story Of the Ghost”…here we went…it was on…we bobbed and jumped and danced and slapped strangers high fives…the set was incredible…people who had been touring with them all summer said it was the best set of the tour…the finale was a classic off an album 12 years old. It was called “You Enjoy Myself.”

Northern Lights:
There is always one song you remember from a show. One song that you will mention when talking to a complete stranger 10 years later that you can both reminisce about and stand on common ground together, no matter what different walks of life had brought each of you to that moment. On the second night, in the second set, deep in the woods of Limestone Maine, at the “IT” festival, “You Enjoy Myself” was that song.

The first notes had the crowd in a frenzy. Soon, glaring guitar sounds rang true through the crowd as we threw marshmallows, beach-balls, and thousands of glow sticks up into the air as they landed at our feet. Looking up into the dark sky, trails of green, orange, yellow, purple, blue and pink arced over and over and over into the crisp night air and we all cheered the beauty of the thing we helped create with each throw.
There were thousands of them, zooming through the night in every direction. Apart from the stage they were the only thing to be seen in the dark above. Trey Anastasio and Gordon (the bassist) laughed and swung their guitars at the glowing projectiles as some reached the stage. They caught a few and threw them high into the air and back into the crowd. All the while they jammed in vintage Phish fashion with screaming celebratory guitar chords, to match the excitement of the crowd, and the electricity of the Northern Lights illuminating the sky above. It was the moment.

Between Sets:
The concert could very well have ended there and we would have been happy campers. But there was more. We watched and listened to that unbelievable set from about 50 rows back, and wanted to be closer for the grand finale. We pushed up between sets and got to about 25 rows away stage right. We were happy with that as there was no way to get any closer so we sat down to talk to our neighbors. These are the times you must take advantage of on your next or phirst Phishing trip.

As soon as we sat, we traded the use of my glass for a place in the cipher, which we politely declined. We asked a girl for some water and she enjoyed helping us out with as much as we wanted. We talked about other shows and joked around with our neighbors and waited anxiously for Phish to take the stage for the grand finale.
They opened with a 39-minute jam, then played my all-time favorite song “Run Like an Antelope,” and encored “Good Times Bad Times” by Led Zepplin ending with a five-minute long fireworks barrage directly over the stage as they finished off a great cover of a great song.

The Sprint:
As all basked in the post-show psychedelic bliss our mantra was: “get to the car, get to the car, get to the car”. We needed to be in Boston for a flight the next afternoon and getting out in front of the herd was crucial. So we pushed…a little, and we weaved…a lot, and we jogged…through the mud at the show entrance, then we ran…over the first row of parking which was also the first runway of the base, then we sprinted…about a mile over two runways and the soggy fields between them, then we jumped…into our already packed car and we were off. We felt like quoting Hannibal from the A-Team…”I love it when a plan comes together”. Instead of a cigar we lit a cigarette and were soon on the road, well ahead of the pack, with about 500 cars in front of us, and about 20,000 or so behind us.

Cops Suck, No Matter Where You Are:
First off, I wasn’t speeding. There are many speed-traps to be wary of when returning from a fruitful Phishing trip. Understand that out-of-state travelers are a great source of revenue for local governments. So when the sign read 25 MPH, we laughed, we had driven through this same trap two times prior and was ready. I slowed down to 30 MPH and watched as a car in front of me got nabbed, “must be a rookie” I thought.

NO more than ten seconds later, I got pulled over too. He lied to me, he told me I clocked 49 on his gun, so I made a snide New Yorker Type comment about how the concert must be a great source of revenue for them, and how I know for a fact I wasn’t speeding, but guess what? Cops will always give you the ticket. So I got my first speeding ticket on the way out, and already have a date to contest it in court in Maine, which is a great excuse to explore the country further in the future. After being pissed for ten minutes, we started singing songs about it on the road and all was well.

Some Cops Suck Less Than Others:
We reached Boston at about 9 a.m. We hadn’t slept and were feeling generally miserable. We figured it would be a good idea that we switch drivers because I had been driving the whole way. So, on a bridge, in a traffic jam, we did a little Chinese fire drill, and were immediately pulled over again.

I was in the passenger side and looking out the driver’s side window when a cop ran up and knocked really hard on my window with his flashlight. I rolled down the window and a bulldog looking officer was barking the following words no more than 6 inches away from my face: “If yah license is suspended aam gonnah lahck you ap!” I remembered we were in Boston quickly. So me, being an articulate sophisticated New Yorker muttered: “ummmm…why man?…ummm I’m not suspended” Then officer 1 asked me for my license and registration while officer two asked me if there was anything in the car that shouldn’t be in there.

As I pulled a whole host of illegal items out of my pocket I said “no officer” very indignantly, and quickly slipped these touchy items into the glove compartment as we pulled forward and to the side of the road. After a little conversation they were convinced that we switched spots because I couldn’t drive anymore and not because we saw the cops and panicked. This proved to be the last event on our trip as we were soon back in New York and Miami respectively, our bodies a little tired, our souls revived.

Encore:
We leave you with a teaser lyric that feels appropriate:

But who can unlearn all the facts that I've learned
As I sat in their chairs and my synapses burned
And the torture of chalk dust collects on my tongue
Thoughts follow my vision and dance in the sun
All my vasoconstrictors they come slowly undone
Can't this wait 'til I'm old
CAN’T I LIVE WHILE I’M YOUNG?

Cheers. Happy Phishing.

2003 1-42 Online