What could be better than sailing along with good friends, sunshine, and music?
Navigating past the inflatable Jameson bottle, whisky tasting, and beer tent, the Jameson stage rises out of Clement Park’s well watered grass. We forgot our camp chairs, but remembered the O’Connor’s, so we were floating lovely and fine by the time Potcheen yielded the oars to Angus Mohr.
An hour is scant harbor and slips away too fast, especially since we’d become spoiled by three Angus shows in four weeks, and the next one, August 14, is more than a month away. By the time I’d gotten pictures, “Whisky in the Jar”, “Debt to the Devil”, “Foggy Dew”, and “Devil’s Dance Floor” had dropped off the horizon along with the first half of the set.
However, spectating is only surface skimming . The damn ankle that had anchored me to my chair for the entire Cheyenne show, ached only a little, and I plunged into the pool of dancers.
I surrendered to “Killiecrankie” and the grass’s cool prickle, before sinking into “Ring of Fire’s” blue notes and sandy chords.
“…Hard Rain…” revealed the canopy peaks and mirroring foothills before the “Captain’s Song”
Tides that waxed and waned until ”…Long Way to the Top” drew down the end—that always comes—too soon.