Camping in a tent in the upper nineties is not for the faint of heart. In reality anyone with any common sense would not do it, but sometimes a little discomfort leads to something amazing. I bought tickets for the Red Wing Roots festival in February. The haze of the cold of winter and the short days of sunlight led me on a search for summer activities with little thought of the potential pitfalls. I carefully watched the forecast as the date approached.

“Should we just post our tickets for sale?”

“Maybe.”

“Are we too old for this?”

“Maybe.”

“98 degrees is the forecast for Saturday. Will we survive?”

“Maybe.”

The look on the festival volunteers faces as we rolled a well worn three sided garden cart off the truck was precious.

“Y’all are experts – aren’t ya?”

“Maybe.”

Then the search for a place to pitch our tent began. All the shady and level spots had been snatched up by those who had arrived the day before. Sweat poured down our faces, our backs, and our legs as we passed tapestries of various colors barely moving in a light breeze and beautifully set up sites with large tents and tables with portable stoves and vases of flowers. People were sitting in the shade, sipping cold beverages, and smiling.

Finally we found a space down a hill with a tiny slice of shade from an old cedar tree. We expertly set up our tiny backpacking tent in record time and threw our stuff into it. The slant of the land was rather extreme. As I climbed in the tent to blow up our sleeping pads I slid nearly out the door. Our first night was painful. The humidity and heat stuck to our dust and dirt covered bodies and we ached from sleeping on the hard ground because well of course our sleeping pads leaked. But thank goodness for “DW” the DeWalt rechargeable fan our friends insisted we borrow. DW we love you. Without DW we would have bailed on the first night.

The next morning we slung our chairs over our shoulders and headed to explore the area. The heat was already overwhelming. The lines of porta potties wafting smells that could peel paint and lines of people standing beside them was well, not the greatest.

“Should we just pack up and go home?”

“Maybe.”

When we made it to the main area, the stages were empty and none of the vendors were open other than a coffee truck. A few people stumbled around looking bleary eyed. Sweat had already soaked Ben’s shirt.

“Are you okay?”

“Maybe.”

We refilled our water bottles and headed for the coolest spot we could find – the shade cast by the natural chimneys. We set up our chairs and could feel the cool air from the cave on our backs. We found the perfect place.

And then a couple came and sat beside us. And then another. And then another. Soon a crowd of about 20 people formed. Ben scowled. 

“Of all the damn places – why does everyone have to congregate around us? Are they freaking crazy?

“Maybe.”

Soon the crowd grew to 40 people. Ben sat firmly in his chair. 

“Should we go somewhere else?”

“NO.”

The crowd soon filled the shaded area. Close to 75 now.

“Welcome to the first geological talk at the Natural Chimneys, I am a professor from Piedmont Community College and am so happy to have you all here. I have attended Red Wing Roots for many years and last year I proposed an idea to do this talk and well now here we all are.”

I smiled at Ben. He smirked back at me and remained seated as the crowd that surrounded us turned and faced the professor.

“These rock towers display a record covering 500 million years of geological history.”

I stood in amazement as he spoke of the Shenandoah Valley’s history, of the two times the area was covered by mountains the height of the Himalayas. I knew of one time not two. He spoke of the shallow sea that once covered the area and the fossils found to support this. He spoke of the formation of granite and basalt and limestone and chert. 

The rest of the festival was amazing. We saw great music and readjusted our tent to a slightly less steep angle. DW kept us cool enough at night and I fell asleep pondering about how our history is so minute compared to those of the natural chimneys and of the universe, but how absolutely precious and beautiful each day we share together truly is.

“Would you go to another music festival with me?”

“Maybe.”