I Heart Doof

Just got back from a weekend away at a bush party called Regrowth. It's a combined psytrance dance party and tree planting event, three hour's drive away at the most amazing location. It's kind of at the edge of a pointy bit (not the correct geographical terminology, I'm sure) jutting out into a huge valley. If you stand in the one spot and spin in a circle and for almost 360 you see nothing but sweeping valley views and rolling hills. No sign of mankind at all for as far as you can see.

We got there at about 9pm on Saturday night and the centre piece on the dance floor was best I've seen. Huge UV string artworks all around the perimeter, the DJ booth a pyramid with psychedelic projections on it (at one point someone had a camera that projected real-time images of the party onto the pyramid), and four totem like poles in the middle (pictured) which, in the heat of the following day, became a mist shower to cool us down. Above it all were colourful banners and streamers billowing in the breeze. Very pretty stuff. Needless to say, the sound system was awesome.

Partied all night, partied on into the day, planted a few trees... interesting experience when you're in full flight party mode, and you've just wandered up without thinking about shoes, and at first you ignore the few spiky bits in the grass and dirt, and before you know it you've made your way into some really heavy nettle and there's no way out but to finish planting the trees you have... at one point I inherited a garbage bin full of mulch and became Mulch Boy, following the calls for "Mulch!" all over the damn place... My feet were really hurting but I had to keep lugging this goddamn bin full of mulch over this vicious ground, the stony parts of which were incredibly hot. All for these scrawny little damn treelets. It was a LOT more painful than I could have expected, and I really started to resent those who had declined the chance to help out and were still dancing away to some amazing music under the mist maker. Bastards. Why hadn't I told my inner hippie to shut the fuck up? Funny thing was that when our friend came around earlier, nursing the little sappling, in the addled mess that was my mind, I initially thought he was offering us a gift, which is why I said "Sure, why not?" just before he said "You want to plants some trees?" I'll have to ask The Dreaded One if she thought the same.

Anyway, it got to a point where I had planted my trees and distributed as much mulch as I could - the hole diggers and tree-putter-inners weren't going fast enough and I had to put shoes on because the nettles and hot ground were too much. I couldn't believe how far up the hill we had all moved, and there was a lot more prickly ground to cover to get back to my shoes, and no other way to do it but do it. I swear it was worse than walking over a field of broken glass and hot coals; a lesser man would have cried the tears of a baby. Wimp.

I still have bristly things in my feet. Those little trees had better grow up into a the kind of dense forest that will make Mulch Boy proud.

I suspect The Dreaded One and I were the only ones who had not thought to bring shoes to the planting. Some people even had gloves and sun protection... at least we made the right decision in leaving our glasses of wine back at the dance floor and not taking them to the planting. "Oh darling - do me a favour and put down that tree and top me up will you? Feeling rather parched, what with all rugged outdoors stuff and whatnot."

The rest of the day was just a perfect doof day. Honestly, looking around at everyone dancing to such gorgeous music and laughing with each other whilst surrounded by such stunning natural beauty, I just felt sorry for people who haven't experienced this kind of thing. I hadn't wanted to go initially, but The Dreaded One had been looking forward to it because it's our birthdays, so I went thinking that it was going to pull me out of my mood, and man, it did that. Sure, you have to put in the effort to get there, and getting back can be a drag, and you get dirty and the car gets dusty, and it can be a pain in the arse if you look at the negatives, but they're just part of what is, overall, a magical experience.

We decided we were not going to straighten up enough for the drive back, so we found a good site and set the tent up, me whining like a bitch because I would have been perfectly fine in the car, but ooh noo, The Princess wanted a bed with sheets and and pillows and so we had to set up the royal marquee (she doesn't read the blog, so I can say such things with no threat of reprisal). Thing was, of course, that she was right; sleeping in the car is a form of sleep depriving- torture, sleeping stretched out in our little tent is 5 star luxury by comparison.

We danced some more, the party thinned, we helped the guys with a little packing, they offered us food, we talked and then returned to the tent. The music kept going for a while, then the night fell quiet, the kind of empty quiet you just don't hear in the city. So peaceful.

Doof does good things for the soul. Less good for the soles.