So  six  years  ago  a  small  festival  was  born  in  the  desert  south  of  Moab  Utah.  Appropriately  named  Desert  Rocks,  this  festival  started  with  one  weekend,  local  and  regional  bands  and  a  hundred  hopeful  fans  that  paid  $15  a  ticket.  Desert  Rocks  Music  Festival  has  turned  into  one  of  the  fastest  growing  festivals  on  the  circuit  today.  Desert  Rocks  starts  off  the  summer  season  for  the  mountain  states  on  Memorial  Day  Weekend  (May  28-­‐30  2010).    

So  on  April  3rd,  just  the  other  night,  the  heart  and  soul  of  Desert  Rocks  hit  Grand  Junction  to  meet  up  with  one  of  the  original  bands  of  the  festival  the  Williams  Brothers  Band  for  a  Desert  Family  Reunion.    The  Mesa  Theaters  stage  was  blessed  with  the  three  of  the  O.G.  bands  of  the  festival;  The  Williams  Brothers,  Wisebird,  and  Stonefed.  Also  in  the  crowd  were  founders  of  Desert  Rocks  John  Corkery  a.k.a.  J.R.  and  Luke  Benson,  as  well  as  Desert  Rocks  family  member  such  as  Lou  Stephens  and  Nate  Watson.    

The  show  was  not  just  a  treat  for  the  loyal  fans  of  the  festival  it  was  the  first  time  outside  of  Desert  Rocks  that  all  three  of  these  bands  had  a  chance  to  play  on  the  same  stage.  Through  out  the  night  the  Sol  Weavers  fire  danced  on  and  off  stage  to  ad  an  extra  flare  to  the  performance.  At  the  end  of  the  Wisebirds  set  and  encore  set  started  using  member’s  from  all  three  bands  to  make  up  the  ultimate  all-­‐star  band  and  a  twenty-­‐five  minute  jam  that  was  astonishing.    

I  had  a  chance  to  sit  down  with  Will  Webster  guitarist  for  Wisebird  to  see  what  was  to  be  expected  from  the  band  this  years  at  Desert  Rocks;  “  A  lot  more  improve  in  the  performances.”  Webster  went  on  to  say  “We  have  a  new  album  coming  out  and  hope  to  be  able  to  release  it  at  Desert  Rocks  if  all  goes  as  planned.  It  is  hard  to  get  projects  like  that  done  when  you  spend  all  of  your  time  on  the  road.”    

John  Corkery  told  me  what’s  new  at  the  festival  this  year;  Hot  Air  Balloon  Rides,  Circus  Pandemonium,  among  new  bands  like  the  Jerry  Garcia  Band  with  Melvin  Seals,  and  headlining  this  year  will  be  Groundation.    

Beer Pairings Ska Brewing True Blonde Suicide Machines-Destruction by Design Back on St. Patties day I was watching the Potato Pirates, a Denver band playing at my favorite local venue The Tenacious Brothers Pub. Towards the end of the set the lead singer asked the crowd, if anyone had heard of the Suicide Machines, and instantly I was taken back to freshman year of high school when I was first starting to get into punk and ska, and all the like, as they started to play “Hey” a great choice for a end of show song. Through this, I was inspired to revisit the roots of my musical upbringing, by getting my hands on the album “Destruction By Design”. A few weeks later I was getting pressed for time on writing my articles for this months issue, and still hadn't decided on a beer to pair with an album. Tyler, our glorious slave driver...i mean leader, suggested I use my favorite brewery of all time and the same brewery that makes the first beer I ever got drunk off of, Ska Brewery, and their beer “True Blonde Ale”. Naturally, since the Suicide Machines are categorized as Ska-Punk, and the first word of the genre just happens to be the name of the brewery that makes the beer, it just happens to work perfectly, but wait there's more! True Blonde, a blonde ale brewed in Durango, Colorado is a great beer for the spring time. Its a nice light beer great for those with seasoned tongues for craft brewed beers, or even for your typical drunk college girl. It features a spunky but mellow flavor, much like the Suicide Machines will keep it nice and heavy into the punk aspect of their music, and then break it down with some good ol' ska influenced riffs with light trumpet and saxophone sections. To focus on the album for a second, it was quite refreshing to hear an album like this after not listening to much punk in quite a while. Its energetic, its loud, its got horns, and if you drink a couple beers and listen to it while taking a cruise with some friends on long boards it all seems to fit together as if it was meant to be that way. The Beer on the other hand matches up quite well with the previous analogy. Cirtus hops, matched with only the finest malts and wheat with a generous portion of Durango locally made Honeyville honey come together to form a sassy, yet reserved, bomb-shell of a beer. A match made in heaven, possibly not, but a match none the less. Give it a try at your next get together, throw the album on and grab a few packs of True Blonde, or even better, a mixer pack of Ska Brewing which features 2 each of their main brews, and also 2 of whatever seasonal they have ready to bottle. So until next time my drinkers and ear bleeders, pick it up(if your a true ska fan, you'll catch that reference) and drink it down.

This forced us to quickly pack our belongings and leave our hotel immediately after dinner and camp the night before our first real day of trekking. It was a long bus ride in the middle of the night into deep woods, and once we stopped we were faced with the challenge of carrying our heavy gear over a narrow log across a cold stream with nothing but our headlamps guiding us. Luckily no one fell in the stream and all 23 of us made it to our first campsite, where our crew of horsemen and chefs were setting up tents for us.

That first night was a cold one, most of us requiring a TylenolPM or some other form of sleep aid to get through the night. The early morning rushed by after being pleasantly awoken with tea and hot chocolate, a quick breakfast, packing up our belongings, and suddenly we were off! The terrain was steep that day, we hiked for at least four hours straight before stopping for lunch on a summit overlooking endless miles of mountains, streams, forests, and farm land. Another three hours of trekking after lunch and we arrived in the small mountain village called Chillipahua, where we would camp for the night.

That small village and the people who live there will forever have my heart. There are children who live with very little in this village. They attend a small school with no running water or electricity. They work hard and travel for miles and even days to the city with their families to sell the produce from their farms. Our group had the incredible experience of giving the children brand new jackets, clothes, and school supplies, and helping build onto their school using adobe bricks we had made. After a hard day’s work was over we spent the time before dinner playing a game of soccer with the children in the courtyard of their school. Their fascination with us, with our cameras and our petty material things that they could never even dream of having, and the smiles on their faces just from us taking the time to play games with them amazed me in a way I can’t describe to you in words alone. It was perhaps the most fulfilling thing I’ve ever done in my young life, I wouldn’t trade that day or that experience for anything in the whole universe. Later that night after dinner the shaman who accompanied us on our travels treated us to a very special healing ceremony, wherein he gave each of us an individual blessing, and afterward we placed a prayer or good thoughts (in the tangible form of coca leaves) into a pile, which was then wrapped up, blessed, and burned; the idea being that our prayers and blessings would travel up to the ends of the universe. The ancient Incans believed that the Universe and Mother Nature work together as our guides through life.  

This was not your typical “vacation”. There were no white sandy beaches, no frilly cocktails with those little umbrellas brought over by men in crisp white shirts and ties, and there was certainly no plush resort with towels molded into shapes of animals. This was so much better than that! Last summer my father and I embarked on a truly life-changing, mind-altering and altogether challenging 12-day expedition through the rugged mountains of Peru.

It came about as quite a surprise to both of us. My dad had attended a local charity auction a while back where he placed a bid on a 12-day guided backpacking trip to Machu Picchu with Jeff Evans of MountainVision Inc., out of Boulder, CO. Much to his surprise and mine, dad ended up being the only person to place a bid and won the trip of a lifetime. After some rescheduling due to work conflicts, countless hours spent training at the gym or hiking 14ers, and an embarrassing amount of hard-earned money spent on the necessary gear, we departed from Grand Junction Regional Airport at approximately 7am on July 5, 2009.

Two plane changes and 14 long hours later we arrived in Lima (Peru’s capital and largest city) at 11:30pm and met the rest of the group and guides with whom we would spend the next 12 days. There were about 18 other adventurous souls with us from all over the country ranging in age from 25 to 55; a group of total strangers on that first day, we would end up tightly bonded by the end of this whole experience.

That first night was spent relaxing in our little hotel rooms in a funky, tourist-y area of Lima, a few of us even venturing out for late-night pizza and beer (Peru is really into their pizza, you could get a slice on practically any corner in the city, probably because they assume that’s all we Americans eat). The following couple of days were spent exploring Cusco, a smaller and historical city that sits at roughly 11,000 feet above sea level. We ventured outside of Cusco to see various Inca ruin sites that were truly breathtaking and full of history. It was now that every minute of sleep in those comfy hotel beds, every huge meal at every fancy restaurant and every hot shower in the morning should be appreciated, because we were forced to leave for our first campsite one night early. We arrived in Peru at a time when there was quite a bit of political unrest, and we learned there was supposed to be a transportation strike starting at midnight on our third day into the trip, meaning that citizens would block railroads, highways, any form of commuting through the country.  

I think I remember my prayer having something to do with my family, and the children of Chillipahua.

The later part of our last night in Chillipahua was spent stargazing, telling stories, laughing, and genuinely enjoying each other’s company. By now the people in our trekking group had all gotten to know each other on a personal and spiritual level. We were getting close in the kind of way where crass comments and jokes were not frowned upon. Nothing was held back.

The next day of trekking was to be the most physically and mentally challenging experience for me, and for my dad. It was our toughest day of hiking so far into the journey. It was tiring, hiking straight up and over steep inclines for hours at a time required taking multiple stops for water and air. We gained quite a bit of elevation in a short amount of time, and my father was having trouble walking for more than 10 minutes, so our guides decided to have him ride the “emergency horse” for most of the day.

We ended our longest and toughest day of hiking at just over 14,000 feet, and the night wasn’t pleasant. Dad was feeling ill, having trouble breathing, coughing uncontrollably, feeling exhausted, completely drained of energy. His condition was worsening and he needed medical attention. I remember going over to the meal tent shortly after setting up my sleeping bag for the night and overhearing Jeff, our guide (and also a licensed physician’s assistant who works in the ER) telling my dad that he had pulmonary edema, a serious condition in which a person’s lungs fill up with fluid making breathing extremely difficult. It’s life threatening, and my dad needed care right away. I had been stressed about my dad’s condition that whole day, and this diagnosis wasn’t good. I broke down into tears and feared I’d have to continue the trip without my dad, something I wasn’t willing to do. The amazing friends I had made in the group quickly came to my rescue, reassuring both me and my dad that everything would be alright. Jeff provided him with some medicine that would help his condition but not necessarily make him completely well. It was decided that if Dad was still not any better by the time everyone went to bed, they would need to take him down to lower elevation immediately; an emergency trek that would take them almost until morning to complete.

This no longer felt like vacation. This was a sleepless night spent curled up in my sleeping bag with tears in my eyes listening to my father in the tent next to me coughing up a lung, literally. I honestly don’t think I slept at all that night because the uncertainty and stress of not knowing whether my dad would have to be taken downhill on a horse in the middle of the night or not was unbearable.

I’m going to leave you hanging for now, but make sure you check out next

month’s issue for Part Two of my journey through some of the most rugged and beautiful terrain in the world, and read about some other hilarious, unbelievable and downright crazy things we encountered during the second half of the trip!