Austinist at the Kerrville Folk Festival

This Memorial Day holiday, we dusted off the Austinist company van for our annual trip down to the Kerrville Folk Festival for a beer-drenched, music-filled, puddle-hopping four-day weekend just two hours outside of Austin.

Situated within the meadows and hills of the Quiet Valley Ranch, the folk festival—which started in 1972 as a gathering of a few friends/musicians who decided to camp out and play music for a few days—is now well into its thirty-fifth year. After three decades, the ranch has yet to stray far from its humble beginnings.

There are two aspects to the festival: the main stage and the campgrounds. The former is where you'll find the big names of folk music, like Jimmy LaFave, The Hudsons, and Peter Yarrow of Peter, Paul and Mary. Festival crowds here drink Shiner and eat Blue Bell from a waffle cone; women hula-hoop, dance circles form out of nowhere, and veteran festival-goers mingle freely with weekend warriors. This atmosphere is pleasant and a must visit during your time at the festival, but it is the campgrounds that are truly Kerrville. Like something out of a commune in the hippie era, as soon as you pull into Quiet Valley, you're greeted with a "Welcome Home!" from a red-eyed, barefoot older gentleman who had to take time out of his hack-circle just to acknowledge your presence. Face-painted children run past, security guards stumble by, and you're hit with the curious smell of patchouli mixed with bathrooms that could use a little more TLC.

Camping at the festival is an experience for the strong, the friendly, and the patient. The campground conditions may not be the best, but the amiable neighbors and amazing views of the Central Texas hills make sleeping on rocks and wading in flooded valleys totally worth it.

This year, we camped next to a 15-year Austinite named Mona. A sextagenarian with an appreciation for jalapeno cheese sausage wraps and dominoes, Mona had a campsite with an amazing hill country view; dubbed "La Mona Rosa," it continues to be one of the most notorious spots on the campgrounds. Mona swapped stories with us about the war, Austin's growth, and getting older. When asked how many years she planned to camp at the annual festival, she replied, "Until I am too old to climb up the hill. Then I will buy a trailer and camp in the meadow," referring to an area of the campgrounds known for its older crowd. We never got to say goodbye to Mona, and we would extend that farewell here, but she won't read it; we know she's still there, committed to staying for the festival's entire 18 days. At this very moment, we imagine she's still sitting at her campsite, staring out over the hills in complete silence.

Of the many festivals we have attended (including SXSW and Austin City Limits), Kerrville is perhaps one of the smoothest and most carefree. The Peacekeepers—what pass for "security guards"—keep their distance, as long as you respect your neighbors, the ranch, and the music. Water, food and beer is reasonably priced (if not free), the stages are built with the audience in mind, and we never once had to wait in line for the bathroom. Stealing is rare—campers leave coolers of beer and thousand-dollar instruments in plain view throughout the day. One of the Peacekeepers admitted that to us that there was occasional thievery, but when asked what people were stealing, he replied, "mainly just cash and stashes."

Above all else, the campfire music is what you visit the Kerrville Folk Festival for. No matter where you venture throughout the campgrounds, you are treated to the sound of acoustics from all sides. No drums are allowed on the grounds, to prevent all-night drum circles, and rarely do you hear an instrument that doesn't have strings—guitars, stand-up bass, and banjo are the most common. Main Stage music is recorded and quickly packaged for purchase, but the impromptu performances that take place around various campfires play throughout the night, often for crowds, sometimes for no one at all. Fortunately or unfortunately, the music played at the campsites is never recorded. As you're blown away by a campfire performance at four in the morning, you always wish that your friend back at camp could've experienced what you just did; but, at the same time, it's better to think of this music just floating off into the hill country sky, never to be heard again.

And now we are back in Austin. Back to construction cranes and traffic, far away from mesquite trees and dusty feet. Like so many others, we packed up with hesitation, threw away leftover BBQ and took the ridicule from veterans about how we were leaving too early. The Kerrville Folk Festival is a place where you go to escape the real world and find solace in something so far removed from the norm, there is really no place like it. Living there, you'll realize that it really isn't too crazy of an idea to get along with your neighbor, smile at a stranger, or just simply share. You get this weird feeling driving away from the festival, a realization that if we all tried a little harder, it really could be this way always.