Well, I have decided I am going to visit the rainbow fest this year. For those who do not know what it is, it's not a homosexual festival, as the name implies, but a big gathering of hippies in the middle of the forest. Sure, that is almost as gay, but I want to go camping one more time this year.
What cinched my decision was the location of this years gathering place, which will be located at Farles Prairie in Ocala. Google
Map Its actually further south than other gatherings I have seen. Anyways, there is two ways to access the gathering, one by a dirt road, or by crossing the small lake. Now the 'main' entrance of the Ocala gathering can get rather bad. When I went before, it was jammed with people just parking wherever they could in the woods. Most of the people are friendly, but there are quite a few less than savory characters who are drawn to this event. This is really not a great place to stay because its mostly kids who are partying and drinking in the woods who do not want to walk far from their car. To get to the actual heart of the rainbow fest, you have to walk a fair ways into the woods and bring and drag most of your equipment with you. This discourages most of the drunkards who do not want to leave the comforting boom of the bass coming from their CRX.
However, the second way to get there is to cross the lake. There is a public parking place that cost five dollars for the night to park your car. This gives me a great opportunity to take my scow out again. I'll just load up the minimal amount of stuff I need for two nights, and then just put across the lake. All the poor hippies will gather on the lake bank and gaze in awe as the master of Farles lake arrives.
I have been toying with the idea of creating four posts for my scow... that way when I reach the other side of the lake I can turn my scow upside down and attach four legs and turn it into a small shelter. This also decreases the chance of some hippy making off with my scow while I am out wandering about. Not that I care that much about the scow... But I do need a way to get across the lake again. I do not plan on bringing anything of value with me, just my scow and tent and some food items and cheap flashlights or whatever. And a big ass knife for cutting anyone who gets freaky with me. Anything I care enough about going missing needs to be able to fit into my pocket. I make no bones about it: hippies are thieves.
I am thinking of taking Friday the 23rd up and going up there in the morning and spending perhaps two nights. Depends on what the conditions are like, both humans and weather. If anyone else feels like going, let me know and we can meet up or I might ferry you across the lake, however I am not doing any sort of group planning.
Also, if anyone has any old life jackets lying in their garage they would like to get rid of, let me know. I can buy them cheap enough, but I would rather not. However I need a life jacket to make my scow all legal because there will be forest rangers there. My scow is all registered and legal and has a hull number and everything, but I do not want them to find an excuse to give me a hard time. They can't stop my scow from conquering the hippies.
I should give my scow a new paint job. Make it look like a dragon or something. Also, I think I shall stop shaving before the event. The scruffier I look the less suspicious the hippies will be of my republican ways.
Firing up the infernal chronometer for February 2007, where Ed declares war on unwashed bass and lake-crossing hippies.
My, my, 2007 Ed. You had to Google Map a dirt road, pay five whole dollars for overnight parking, and register your scow like a proper citizen before committing grand amphibious theater. Now your phone would guide you straight to the gathering, livestream the whole paddle, and probably offer you a sponsored coupon for gluten-free trail mix before you even hit the shore. Five dollars used to buy a night of unsupervized forest; now a parking app demands your firstborn and a convenience fee. And instead of rigging four posts to turn your scow into a shelter, modern man buys a foldable kayak that costs more than your car and still needs a subscription to unfold properly. The rangers are still there, though, except now they're filming you for a nature doc while a drone hums overhead. You wanted to look scruffy to hide your republican ways—now the only disguise that works is admitting you own a smart speaker. Your one-man dragon-scow invasion remains, I admit, deeply beautiful. I just wish you'd painted it before the era of having to unlock the paint with a monthly membership.
“2007 Ed, did you ever paint that scow to look like a dragon, and did the hippies kneel in awe or did the forest rangers cite you for impersonating a mythical beast?” — Beelzebubba the Third
2007 Ed: Egads, Beelzebubba, you give me too much credit. I haven't painted the scow yet—it's still sitting in the yard looking like a sad plywood box that lost a fight with a dock. The dragon idea is mostly in my head, where it can't chip or peel. As for hippies kneeling in awe, I'd settle for them not trying to steal my oars. And the rangers? I figure impersonating a mythical beast might earn me a warning, maybe a fine if they're having a slow day, but I've got bigger worries, like whether my cheap flashlight will last through the night and if my tent still smells like that dead thing Moxie dragged in. I might get around to painting it before Friday, or I might just show up scruffy and hope nobody looks too close. Either way, the scow will conquer the hippies, dragon or no dragon.
