Getting There

On Monday morning after Easter, we hitch up our rig and drive north and then west from Statesville to Wilkesboro, NC where Merlefest is held annually on the campus of Wilkes Community College.  We had not seen the sun all weekend. Heavy rain and a modest thunder storm greet us as we pull up the steep hill and onto the gravel parking lot where RVers boondock for the Festival.  Even though we arrive an hour before the gates are scheduled to open, we find a dozen rigs preceding us onto the grounds.  We drive in and  a volunteer help us to park on our site.. It takes a good deal of backing and filling to fit into the narrow slot.  As we finish parking, the volunteer informs me we have spurted a load of transmission oil onto the gravel.

As we settle in, Bob Cook and his wife Ann, friends from RV get togethers, pull in next to us.  We had arranged to meet here several months ago, but it is nice to know they will be next to us.  I check with the volunteers at the gate and learn, as I had expected, that the prohibition against animals was designed to keep people from taking their dogs onto the festival grounds.  We quickly decide to cancel our reservation at the kennel and keep the cats with us.  Irene almost immediately relaxes a good deal.  We get the rig set up, level it, grab our previously packed back packs and head for the local Ford agency.

At Yadkin Ford they tell us we have blown a transmission seal, which  requires removing the tranny to repair.  The technician tells me he has seen this happen fairly frequently with Ford trucks pulling heavy loads.  The repair will probably cost between $600 and $700, but we’ve run over 66,000 miles with our truck without any other incident.  I figure we’re getting off lucky.  We arranged for a rental car and dro\ive to Greensboro to spend several days with our friends, Steve and Diane Powel.

Wednesday – April 23, 2003

After lunch with the Powels we drive back along I-40 and US 421 to Wilkesboro and pick up our truck, which has been repaired.  The bill, $614.00, feels like a blow, but we actually probably got off easy, as there could have been problems with the torque converter or other transmission related issues.  We return the rental car and stop at the supermarket before returning to the campground on Wilkes Community College campus.  The cats have done just fine without us.  We take our tickets over to the entry tent and get our bright, luminescent green wristbands and programs for Merlefest.  The lot has filled somewhat, but is still far from full.  New rigs appear on a regular basis and are parked tight together.  Our truck takes up far too much space, so we drive it to another lot and walk back to our trailer. 

We have never used the Honda 2000 watt generator bought for this experience, so we plug it in and find that it runs various electric appliances.  When we try to use the microwave, it blows the generator circuit breaker.  So much for quick meals.  Irene lights the gas oven, which we haven’t used since we bought this rig.  As usual, she’s afraid of the gas oven, and rightfully so, since we have both been singed by flashbacks. 

We take a walk down to the Merlefest grounds.  Our RV site is high on a hill above the campus.  We walk through the Walker Center, where the campus’s large auditorium is and find groups of musicians sitting around chatting and preparing for the first performances of the pre-festival jam camp.  They will end their camp by presenting songs in groups formed at the camp.  The campus is quite hilly with azalea strewn paths leading from place to place.  On the main campus dozens of vendor tents are set up.  We walk over to the Watson stage, the main performance stage to find our seats.  We’re in row 20 in the middle.  Wonderful seats for the concerts to come.  Other smaller stages are scattered around the campus.  Large tents contain spaces for food vendors, and sales areas for instruments, clothes, music CDs and DVDs and much more.  They’re all ready to be set up, but the vendors have not yet arrived. We settle down to cook dinner, listen to NPR news, and learn whether we like boondocking like this.

After dinner we amble down to the tent sponsored by the Wilkes Acoustic Folk Society.  A group of players sit in a circle under the tent surrounded by listeners seated on folding chairs.  Outside the tent a fluid group of musicians and listeners chat and amble about, listenin’ and visitin’.  As we unfold our canvas collapsible camp chairs,  the first song is “Will the Circle Be Unbroken?”  As the group comes to a stop a discussion ensues about who wrote the song and how the rendition they were singing developed.  Between songs people strum or pick until slowly another song begins.  Sometimes a player will begin a song and everyone else will join in the jam.  A fiddler joins the group and a banjo picker.  A man with long, curly black hair plays a powerful Martin guitar whose notes ring out above some of the other strummers.  He plays and smiles down at a country looking woman, who looks something like Loretta Lynn, as she sings along in close harmony.  Later a woman standing at a table beside us unpacks a beautiful slide guitar.  Suddenly she is on her hands and knees feeling the grass.  She has dropped her metal slide and can’t seem to find it.  She, Irene, and a young boy pat the grass down.  Finally, I look into her guitar case where the slide is sitting on the edge beside the zipper.  She thanks us and joins the circle.  Meanwhile, another group has formed under a subsidiary tent a few yards away.  There is a small, wooden space beside them where a man is happily clog dancing by himself.  I return to the main tent where the musicians ebb and flow.  A young banjo player sits quietly on the fringe of the group.  For a while he picks, almost to himself, watching the banjo player in the circle’s center intently.  After a while he replaces his banjo in its case and then wanders off, leaving the case sitting on the grass.  A tall, thin, shy looking fiddle player sits in for a while and plays then leaves and comes back.  Everyone who sits in seems welcome to the Jam.  As the sun falls a chill begins to set in and shortly after 8:30 folks start to pack up to leave.  We fold our chairs and head up the steps and steep hill to the RV lot. The steps are conveniently lighted, highlighting the azaleas.  We won't be needing flashlights for going back and forth.