Shooter // Jay Scroggins // Intratecque

We were never the "outdoorsy" types. My father HATES the wilderness and won't go anywhere near grass. Unless it's on the golf course. Well-manicured, and free of any hidden animal excrement that may potentially introduce itself to the bottom of his footwear. It's an actual phobia of sorts. My uncle Hound Dog [ Joe] attributes it to an incident that may or may not have happened in the 70s, that may or may not involve tracking dog sh*t onto the brand new carpet of a potential new credit union client. This story has yet to be verified, however uncle Hunter [Claude] falls out laughing every time The Hound Dog tells this story.

Point being is that I've NEVER been camping. So when the opportunity to book Porter Ray for the Sasquatch Music Festival presented itself, we immediately took it! We called the homies, loaded up the trucks and headed out to the middle of f*cking nowhere! Literally. The Gorge ampitheatre is in rural Washington state. There are no hotels, no restaurants, no stores, no weed spots....NOTHING! With a little preparation, some old-fashioned ingenuity, and man-skills that can only be measured by chest hair, we battled the elements, made due without electricity and mastered the art of "festival-ing".

Fresh off the block, we entered into territory never before explored...


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