Ubiquitopa 21 comes to a close

We have just concluded Ubiquitopia 21, and it was a glorious event. Heartfelt thanks are due to the many individuals whose contributions made it possible—there are simply too many to name individually. The band lineup was the strongest it has ever been.

It is fitting that the gathering has returned permanently to the location where it originated in 2002, when we happened to camp next to Ubiquitone during the SoundQuilt Music Festival. I remember well the pig roasted on an old iron gate, the truck mired in a mudhole, and the outstanding music. I also recall remarking at the time that we should start our own event.

Since the first Ubiquitopia in 2004, the gathering has grown from an intimate affair centered on NøffNøff BBQ and the members, families, and friends of Ubiquitone to a peak attendance of 400, complete with two pigs on the roast. A number of experiences from these years stand out (in no particular order):

• The dedicated people who have sustained this tradition for twenty-one years.
• The collaboration with Harvest Moon and the subsequent merging of the two events.
• Sleeping in my minivan at the gate after arriving after hours, and the heavily overloaded single-axle trailer that somehow transported cinder blocks for the pig roast, an eight-foot steel grill, a 4,000-watt generator, coolers full of food, and the kitchen tent.
• Attempting to boil hamburgers in the rain—an intensity of rainfall I have never experienced before or since. I have never pitched a tent so quickly in my life.
• The campfire pizzas prepared in cast-iron Dutch ovens.
• Wrapping my friend Brian’s child in a Norwegian Voksipose during a particularly cold night; that child was, without question, the warmest in seven counties.
• Serving Black Shit and White Shit, with Ronnie notably elevating the quality of the White Shit. And a special thanks to Kobie for naming both.
• The custom shot glasses we crafted and distributed as giveaways (I recently discovered another box of them in my garage). That was also the year I insisted on discarding the pig.
• The wooden stage that Carbonello somehow transported in his remarkably compact car. Pikktryne!
• Being admonished by my brother for leaving the nylon tent flap open on Saturday morning, thereby inviting the cold air inside. I will politely ignore the ensuing discussion about second and fourth gear.
• The night temperatures dropped to approximately 19 °F and Morten was unable to fully enter the tent—fortunately, he could rely on his campmates for vigorous vocal support.
• The performances of “Older Now” and “American Life” by Ubiquitone. And “Mamas, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Vikings!”
• Bottle rockets, late-night poker games, and the unforgettable streaker incident.
• The outstanding Friday acoustic sets—yeah, you, Bryce.
• The sole occasion on which the event was canceled, when we instead held a sausage party (a genuine one) at Keith’s Resort and Spa in West Virginia.
• Visits from my Norwegian family and friends, including one Swede. (I am still not returning to Luray Caverns.)
• Morten denting Fred's car door with elevated hockey skills.
• Keith’s bar, the camper tire that was replaced on-site, and …fireworks!
• The German beer garden and the Spaten Oktoberfest banner. And Jenn dressed the part.
• Odder!!
• Preparing chili in the cauldron.
• The power strips floating around the stage in the rain, and the kind gentleman who calmly straightened the poles after the stage collapse.
• Alligator!
• Norwegian hats.

Ultimately, what has allowed Ubiquitopia to endure for twenty-one years is the remarkable community it has created. I have been fortunate to meet friends from every walk of life, many of whom have become part of my extended family. It has been especially meaningful to watch participants marry, raise children, and now see those children grown. Nor can I overlook the dogs—particularly the vivid memories of them glistening with pig fat and racing off with bones and skin.

These connections, grounded in music, food, and the simple pleasure of time spent around the campfire, remain the true heart of Ubiquitopia.