Photographer Jake Clifford and I went to Sasquatch! last year with no intention of seeing the shows. We packed light, bringing only the essentials—some blankets, his camera, my voice recorder, PB&J, and a tidy collection of booze and drugs. We didn't have tickets and we didn't have money to get tickets. I was hoping I might get to see Ween for free, but I always hope for that. For two days and two nights, we explored the sprawling campsite. We met rowdy drunks, mellowed beauties napping in the sunshine, men in headdresses—you name it. We made a toast over a cooler of Jell-O shots with a guy who said, "I'm getting too old for this, so this year I'm going bigger than ever and then I'm done."

If you try to use bikini girls dancing on cars as landmarks at Sasquatch!, you will get lost. A riveting young woman from Vancouver Island jumped off an SUV and painted my face, then challenged us to a round of Scrabble in the overflow parking area. We searched, but we never found her again. A blue-haired dude and his brother sold us corn and hot dogs, but when security came and put the kibosh on their barbecue biz, we got it all for free. A girl who had cut the nub off a whiffle-ball bat to turn it into a really long cup dragged me away by the arm so we could go play a dizzy bat drinking game in private. There was music in the air—I could tell.

All photos by Jake Clifford.