How to Pack for a Four-Day Blues Festival in under Five Minutes

Tent. Check. Sleeping bag. Check. Tooth brush. Check.

I learned this short-cut packing technique quite by accident at my first Sunbanks Rhythm and Blues Festival last fall – four days of rockin' blues music at the Sunbanks Resort on Banks Lake near Grand Coulee Dam in eastern Washington. I was an experienced blues festival-goer, having already been to a couple of local one-day shows that season. I was excited to just leave it all behind and go to The Big One. So I did. I left it all behind, only to find that everyone else had brought it all with them.

The resort was crammed with tents and RVs. I expected that much, of course. But if I hadn't seen it for myself, I'd never have believed the Sunbanks camping protocol: Bring Everything. One camper had the kitchen sink hooked up — and operating – I am not joking — along with a nicely laid-out chef's kitchen, a butler's pantry, an outdoor shower, and what I would call an outdoor open floor plan. Everything but the cathedral ceiling.

At a pared-down minimum, the average camper at Sunbanks had a screened-in dining room, complete household furniture, a cook stove, a toaster, a full-service bar, Christmas lights, not-Christmas lights, other lights, still other lights, stuffed animals, lawn ornaments, sculptures, a library, a stereo system, a kayak, a canoe, art supplies, table cloths, and fresh flowers in vases. As I mentioned, I had my tent, my sleeping bag, and my tooth brush — also enough clothes for four days, a pillow, and a cooler with fare I knew I wouldn't want to eat. I had to do something about this. Home wasn't far away, but I couldn't go there – even at home I didn't have accommodations like this. A back-up plan was in order.

Luckily, a discernible pattern emerged right away. The festival-goers – most of whom were obviously long-time Sunbanks fans — were so friendly and unconcerned (not to mention unobservant) that one after another they clasped me tightly to their bosoms, slapped me heartily on the back, and fought off tears of joy while telling me how happy they were to see me again. So my plan formulated pretty much on its own. Try walking by that campsite over there. They seem to have comfortable furniture. Try talking to those guys in the back of that pickup. They seem to have bags full of that plastic Mari Gras jewelry everyone (except you) is wearing. Look at the chef when you walk by that nice screened-in kitchen. The food in there seems abundant. And drinks right next door. The guy across the way has not one but two hand-made wooden kayaks on the roof of his – is that? – yes! – on his bright red, vintage Porche Carerra 911. This is a campground — they le t stuff like that in here? Yes, apparently they do, so let's stick with the proper camping etiquitte: Great to see you again! I see you have a couple nice-looking kayaks, there.

The music was great. Donald Ray Johnson, Maurice John Vaughn, Junkyard Jane, Sammy Eubanks. I could go on and on, but I can't remember any more names. I do, however, remember everything about the Sunbanks camping protocol. I can't wait to go again. I'll pack on my way out the door.