Australia's Woodford Folk Festival is a very green experience

Aside from the mighty Glastonbury I have never heard people speak with such reverence about a music festival. Even before my arrival, chance encounters with our Aussie brethren who had attended previous years confirmed that I stood on the threshold to something very special. I listened as people visibly choked on emotion as they described the festival ceremonies or proudly claiming they had been to fifteen in a row, attending with parents as a teenager themselves and now happily bringing their own children.

Chances are if you live in Europe you won't have heard of the Woodford Folk Festival. Not surprising really as it occurs in Queensland, Australia when most of us are still digesting our Christmas dinners but it's track record speaks for itself.

The original festival began in 1987 at Maleny showgrounds with an attendance of 900 but grew rapidly and by 1994 the Australian Folk Federation purchased farm land giving the site a very permanent home. They rapidly installed infrastructure such as roads, toilets, shower blocks and its own sewerage treatment works, plus regenerated the site with extensive planting of native trees, an annual practice which continues to this day. The festival continued to go from strength to strength and today sees 130,000 festival goers over the six day period from 27th December until 1st January. A respectable number of attendees for a folk event but its a reflection the ambitious nature and hard work of the event organisers.

The Woodford festival experience is different from the average English festival. If you go expecting drinking, drugs and all night partying then you may be disappointed. In contrast to the debauchery which some English festivals provide Woodford is a far more wholesome affair, with genuine effort to encourage festival goers self improve and commune with nature in some way. It also has the added bonus of being warm enough to exist in T-shirt and shorts throughout the night, a truly special thing, which even Queenslanders don't take for granted because when it rains in tropical Queensland there is always the chance that it will be of biblical proportions.

Arriving at the festival we were great by high iron gates with the word "folklore" emblazoned proudly across them. Movement into the site was fluid and effortless and within half an hour we were pitching our giant Aussie sized tent under a forgiving tree in 30c heat. The campsite itself was spacious and tranquil, with its own shop and a regular and efficient shuttle service to the festival which operates until the early hours. On the surface of things the shuttle bus may seem unnecessary as the areas aren't far apart but when it rains in tropical Queensland you will understand just how useful it is.

The toilets and showers that were built are clean, stocked with toilet paper and the showers rarely had a queues. I was a convert to the festival shower, going from having never previously showered at a festival to having at least one a day. Recycling bins were available on site too, more importantly they were being used as people adopted the 'leave no trace' style of behaviour Michael Eavis could only dream about.

The main site itself is a forested oasis, easily the most beautiful festival site I have experienced, with food stalls (all with adequate seating) situated on small lakes and a grassed area known as the village green which was an ideal place to relax, sleep or watch the occasional performance. The main stage is a natural amphitheatre which can comfortably fit 25,000 people and helped create a special atmosphere for the opening and closing ceremonies.

The ceremonies in question were endearing. A vast effort had gone into them when creating costumes, lanterns, music and dance routines. It was almost as if a small town had just been told they were hosting the Olympics and instead of being overwhelmed by the concept had risen to the occasion with their meagre budget. Many of the festival goers seemed genuinely moved by these ceremonies as if the organisers had tapped into a part of the human experience of a celebrating life which we rarely think about in modern life. The culmination of this was on new years day when thousands of us climbed the hill nearby to bring in the new year together accompanied by soft music played on a Japanese flute and many hugs from complete strangers.

The Chai tent must be one of the oldest at any festival as it celebrated its twentieth year and provided the sanctuary and chillout area which many of us expect from a chai tent whilst also existing as on outlet for fantastic music and jam sessions. On frequent occasions we would pop in for a cup of chai only to leave a number of hours later sometimes spending much of the night sleeping on the floor to the sounds of drummers making music together.

In terms of the line-up I knew or had heard less than 5% of even the main artists so I wandered around continually surprised and delighted by the diverse acts from traditional aboriginal or white folk music to drum and bass, beat boxers, reggae, rock and even a one man band called That One Guy who made techno music from an electronic double bass he had made himself.

Each day regardless of the time people had retired to the wonderfully quiet campsites (Are they ever quiet in England?) people would be up by nine at as the brutal Australian mid-summer sun would start to cook people in their tents. This enforced exodus from the the campsites meant people were keen to go and see the music and arts laid on for us.

Festival favourites such as Ash Grunwald, The Black Seeds or Jeff Lang provided solid performances whilst it was often the small acts that seem to get people talking, Sydney's Tijuna Cartel in particular punching out performances comparable in quality with Ozomatli whilst That 1 Guy seem to have the ability wo whip up many an Aussie into a frenzy. Not one act seemed to be more important than another though, it seemed as if the bands understood the significance of the event which was far more important than it´s individual components.

Whilst the music was excellent many of the best parts of a festival are those magical moments for which there are no words, the times when you just had to be there. These could be the place you see the sunrise, the friend you bump into after a 6 year absence or maybe a random act of kindness that you receive when conditions get tough. Woodford contained these moments in abundance and for that I was truly humbled.

I tend to become emotional when I am sleep deprived and the final day at Glastonbury Festival wouldn't be the same without some sadness for the finale and some soul searching. Woodford had the same power too, I felt introspective, I made new years resolutions (my last being about 10 years ago saying "my resolution was to stop making resolutions"), I felt emotional, I felt changed and uplifted. It was also the first time I had been called a hippie without it making me cringe. The festival organisers had a goal of putting on a good show whilst hopefully affecting a change in people's lives. Job done, see you next year Woodford.

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