I will preface this by saying that my recollections of Winfield '04 may bare only a passing resemblence to yours, even though we were in the same camp (and same sleeping bag?), heard the same concerts, and played the same tunes.  And if you want equal time, just drop me your story.

Friday night, before the first Saturday

No rain in the forecast.  This is a good thing.  The car is loaded. First year to Winfield in the new RAV-4. Fill it up. Take stuff out.  Put different stuff in.  Take stuff out, and put different stuff in.  Take stuff out.  Snap at spouse.  "If we had a trailer (WHICH WE HAVE!), we could carry it all". "We are not taking a trailer, which we don't really have, because it is in a state of 'almost built' and it will take you two more days to finish!"  grump, grump

Saturday, the first one-

On the road by mid-Morning.  Every important item (and some not important items) are stowed.  Somehow, they all fit.

A stop for lunch at the barbeque in Augusta and then it is time to hit the Robert Docking Highway for the final stretch.

Brigadoon looks empty.  This is going to be the site of rising camp?

But Dave and Trish have set up the first metal camper, the beer is cold, and there is evidence of banjo picking.  So we stay.

After alcoholic fortification, it is time to see Brigadoon rise from the mists once again.  (Just imagine the mists.)

And as the mists disolve, our quiet little campsite is reborn anew.

And when Ken and Martha join the Schmings and Hopes and Pat, it is finally time to invite the neighbors over and pull out some instruments.