The trip to Woodstock, NY, actually Bethel, was shorter, a little over 400 miles. I heard there was a big outdoor concert going on and it started that morning. I would miss the first day, but it should be fun to spend the remaining weekend grooving to what promised to be an excellent scene.
I packed for typical bike camping. Besides some food and clothes and other necessities, I had a tarp that would turn the bike into a mini tent or lean to. That plus some blankets and a sleeping bag were all piled on the back of the bike and secured with bungie cords to the sissy bar. I was ready to roll. I thought I could make it in about 10 hours with just a few stops for fuel for me and the bike, and leaving at 8 AM, I hoped to be there before nightfall.
I headed north across the Bay Bridge Tunnel and followed US 13 to Philly where I picked up some four lanes through Allentown and further north. I ended up running into some heavy traffic on the thruway, and at one point the traffic just stopped. Fortunately I could keep going on the shoulder and ended up arriving at the festival around 9 PM.
By then there was no admission. It was a free concert. I rode around abandoned cars and onto the grounds, although I was way back from the stage along the trees near the rear of a fenced field. Still the sound system was good, and I was able to park my bike and settle in for some listening pleasure.
Tim Hardin was performing when I got there. About midnight, when Ravi Shankar came on stage, a gentle rain began to fall. Not that I could see Ravi from where I was, but I heard. I quickly attached the tarp to handle bars and sissy bar and settled out of the rain resting against the still warm motor. I had a little wine I had brought to take off the chill and soon heard Arlo Guthrie proclaim the famous, “The New York State Thruway’s closed, man!” It continued to rain throughout the night as people kept arriving. My little area quickly filled in with music enthusiasts.
I was dry under my tarp, although the ground was turning very muddy. I ended up falling asleep to the soprano voice of Joan Baez some time around 2:00 AM, my leather jacket serving as a pillow. I awoke to an ocean of people navigating a sea of mud. Fortunately, my little campsite remained dry — relatively dry.
I had slept right through whoever was the opening act on the second day. The ride, and the late night, and the wine required more than 40 z’s to digest. I remember waking up to Country Joe. At that point I figured the bike and stuff was safe as my neighbors all seemed pretty mellow. In fact the whole crowd, who somewhat resembled drowned rats, seemed very mellow. The music in the background and general vibe was cool and inviting.
Some folks were throwing frisbees and there was a giant beach ball being batted around in the slight valley between my vantage point and the stage. There was a girl dancing to the music and blowing bubbles from one of those kid’s toys. It was a festival atmosphere and there was a herbalist smoke raising over the gathering crowd. Lots of laughter and applause, singing along and dancing.
I walked down near the stage and saw Country Joe and Santana. Wow, the Santana set was awesome. At that point I was getting hungry and headed back to the bike. I had brought two loaves of bread and a jar of peanut butter. That’s survival rations for those not in the know.
When I got back to the bike, there were some new people around. A small group in a VW bus and also a couple of good looking gals laying on top of their sleeping bags. They both were wearing shorts and one had tied her shirt to expose her bare midriff. I started a conversation with my award winning line, “Hey, want a peanut butter sandwich?”
To my surprise, they said yes. Then they said, “Would you like a cold beer?” Would I! (Peg leg, peg leg — old joke!!) Seems they had a small cooler with cool ones.
We introduced ourselves. You all know me — the author. The ladies were Linda Lincoln and Cindy Smith. They were from Fall River, Massachusetts. They had all kinds of goodies in that ice chest including potato salad from the local A&P.
Soon the group from the VW van had joined us and they had watermelon. The concert served as a nice background to our conversation as we all got to know each other while enjoying the strangest picnic lunch ever served.
We talked and enjoyed the sun that had come out to dry up the rain, and I really enjoyed talking to Linda (the one with the bare midriff). We didn’t really pay much attention to the music until evening approached. We were then treated to Canned Heat and Mountain, a couple of very good sets. That was followed by the Grateful Dead, and we migrated back toward the stage expecting some good jam time. Sadly they didn’t give their best performance. Technical glitches and other problems were taking their toll on the performers and audience alike.
RAIN!! I mentioned the mud. It was everywhere. I had a towel and there was some water down by the potties, so I just wiped it off with the wet towel. The girls had flip-flops and I had engineer boots, so we slogged through the stuff ok, and it wasn’t that bad.
Mountain was followed by Creedence and Sylvester Stewart (Sly) and the Family Stone. By then it was after midnight — way, way after midnight. Although there were two more great acts following, we all retired to our respective beds, and I quickly fell asleep the second night. I woke early the next day to The Who and the Jefferson Airplane. It seems the rain and other complications had made the whole concert schedule so late that the last evening acts were actually the next morning. Yet there were many bleary eyed aficionados grooving to the great music at some ungodly hour of the morning.
By then the girls were awake and looking for breakfast. They were both wearing swim suit tops with shorts. Probably a good costume for the weather and environment. We ended up with more peanut butter sandwiches — and a warm beer. At that point I would have loved a cup of coffee. Some people wandered by passing out doughnuts.
Linda and her friend walked down to where there was some fresh water and got cleaned up from the night before. When they got back, we talked for another couple of hours before wandering down toward the music. Joe Cocker was on stage and he was the best performer I saw so far, although I did sleep through The Who. After Joe we wandered back to our little camp. The VW bunch had been on a beer and food run, and they were again happy to share their goods with all of us. I gave them the last of the peanut butter and a loaf of bread, which they appreciated because the local grocery store was all out of bread. I also gave them a 20 to help with their expenses since they had so generous with us.
The concert scene had become a sea of mud, and we pretty much gave up keeping clean. It was a warm summer day and it was time for some exploring.
Linda and I took a walk down the road and looked at all the cars parked everywhere. I wish I’d had a camera to take some pictures of the giant gaggle of cars parked every which way one could park. Some were on the side of the road, and some were in the road. No one seemed to care.
We eventually got to town and stopped at a park with a fountain. Linda took off her shoes and sat on the edge of the fountain with her feet in the water. There was a drinking fountain nearby, and I slacked my thirst heavily. This was before bottled water, and there was little of anything left in the tiny town of Bethel at this point of the half million visitors. It was nice to walk on the grass at the park and on the sidewalks. There was a bench under the trees in the park where we spent some time just talking.
We talked the whole way into town and back about our plans. I told her that, once I got out of the Navy, I was moving to Colorado. The amazing coincidence is that Linda said her dad was thinking of moving her family to Colorado too. We laughed that we could meet up again once we both got to Colorado (although I’m sure we both thought we’d never meet again.)
When we got back to the concert, we grabbed a couple of blankets and headed back to the stage. Ten Years After was on with Alvin Lee. Apparently appearing at Woodstock launched the already experienced blues band to great popularity here in the US.
They were followed by the Band and Johnny Winter. Now that’s a contrast. Then came Blood, Sweat, and Tears, one of my favorite bands. Finally, around 3 AM, Crosby, Stills, and Nash appeared starting an acoustic set with Suite Judy Blue Eyes. I don’t think they had even cut a record yet. It was the first time I had heard them. I was blown away.
But it was late again, so we wandered back to our little camp where I ended up crashing rather quickly, hardly getting to say good night to Linda. I awoke on Monday morning. Jimi Hendrix had just taken the stage. I looked around for Linda and her friend, but they must have left earlier that morning. I too needed to head for home since I had a long 10 or 12 hour ride ahead of me. As I packed up and started my Triumph, Jimi Hendrix was just starting Foxy Lady. I thought to myself: “exactly!” I threaded my way through the awakening crowd, a bit numb and shellshocked by three days of music and camaraderie.
On the ride back south to Norfolk, that lady I’d just met was very much on my mind. As the miles rolled under my tires, my thoughts replayed those three special days of special company. Most heavy on my mind was my memories of Linda and the way we had connected.
Nothing happened but conversation. We hadn’t even kissed. But I replayed every word, every sentence, every comment made during that short time together. We may not have kissed, but I did hold her hand on several of our walks, and I just couldn’t get that girl out of my thoughts. Who knew we would meet up again out west in Colorado. Lightning can strike twice.
And that, kiddies, is how I met your mother.
So, there’s one thing you have to ask yourself, punk. Does this author of tall tales with a dubious reputation for voracity ever tell the truth? Is this an actual fact or just the made up musings of a fevered mind? Well, it was the sixties. And anyone that can remember the 60s, probably wasn’t there.
