This is the last bank holiday weekend of the high festival season, and the last bank holiday weekend of my obsessive festival adventuring. Electric Picnic will mark three years since I started a trip that was only supposed to take 12 months. It was too much fun – I couldn't stop. After this year's session in Stradbally, it will be time to take a step back from intensive fleadh foraging. I'll still be going to festivals, just not as maniacally.
There have been plenty of wild times, divilment and laughter since myself and the Wanderly Wagon took to the road almost three years and hundreds of festivals ago. there have also been times where I’ve had to stop, take stock and appreciate those moments that have made deep and lasting impressions.
Last weekend floated out another of those special moments. Things started well with a visit to the European Juggling Convention in Millstreet, Co Cork. The good, the bad and the juggly came in their thousands from all over Europe to toss, tumble and talk technique. I wasn't expecting much from this gig, but the sense of fun and community was infectious. The entertainment was world class, with the likes of Viktor Kee from Cirque du Soleil performing and delivering workshops to the amassed tanned and talented tricksters.
Ballydehob was hit up for a spot of reggae and hip-hop at Mid Summer Mango (the second leg is on this weekend in Kinsale). A slice of NomShtock was sampled in Kenmare at the multidisciplinary arts, food and yoga festival. Both were low-key affairs, but they had their charms. I didn't get to catch the bands in Ballyde-hip-hob, but Twin Headed Wolf shone at NomShtock.
There's something in the water The preamble had been pleasurable, but it was a magical midnight event on Lough Hyne as part of Skibbereen Arts Festival (which continues this weekend) that lit up my esprit de festival. The West Cork marine lake is a special place at the best of times, but as we paddled out into the inky night waters with Jim Kennedy of Atlantic Sea Kayaking, a long-eared owl called from the wooded bank on our right and a heron squawked his disapproval at our approach from the island on our left. Every time a paddle broke the surface, a multitude of ethereal blue/white dots of light from the bio-luminescence in the water lit up the night.
It felt as if we'd been transported on to the set of a classic Disney feature, a feeling that was further enhanced further still when Jim led us to a candlelit pier where two violinists performed Telemann's Gulliver Suite. Right on cue, the clouds disappeared and a multitude of reflected stars mixed with the dots of light already in the water, as we bobbed gently to the music.
A ludicrously tasty midnight feast awaited back shore. I was in danger of capsizing from the excessive haul of festival pleasure. Wanderly Wagon was parked up on a far pier and, when everyone left, I finally blissed out totally with an alien-like dip in the salty pond of Pixar, as the Milky Way shone down from above. The "Unicorn crossing" sign outside Baltimore should've prepared me for all of this. So many beanos, so little time This weekend I'll be setting up camp at Castlepalooza to redress the feckless abandon balance, but Indiependence in Mitchelstown, Spraoi in Waterford, Booleigh Ska Festival, Annascaul BeerFest, and Birr Vintage Week are all worth consideration. Forget the Galway Races: the Leghowney Sheep Racing Festival is on in Donegal.
If you do find yourself up around the northwest having a ewe-bet at the lamb chop chase, could you do me a solid? Call into The Squealing Pig, a pub on the Inishowen peninsula, and pick me up a Muff Festival T-shirt. Three years on the road and I still don't have one of those bad boys. I should be ashamed of myself.
Safe travels, don’t die.
ayearoffestivalsinireland.com
