We all rock up to the Bluetopia lock up. We are grinning, hyped up and excited. There is an amazing energy as new members meet other new members and the core crew finally come together as one massive organic machine. There are multiple vehicles, caravans, campervans, hire vans even Van shoes.

We have tools, tool buckets, ice buckets, spare buckets, tool boxes, zebra boxes, chalk podium boxes, boxes of nails, screws, brushes, food, drink and the kitchen sink. Barrows, batteries, generators, back up lights, tables, a focker, a trailer, arches, signs, wood, tents, gazebos and two big pink gay marquees.

It all squeezes in. We all squeeze in. Even a dog squeezes in. We leave one constructionist at the now spacious and void area of the lock up so he can delve into the making and creating of some large rustic thrones and trestles for a mammoth outdoor banquet table. We wave him off, happily content with the task at hand and the pub on hand for the day.

Off we trundle in convoy. Beryl at the front, then a hire van, then vans and caravans, then the smallest most ridiculous car in the world. But where ever the Linz Goes Aygo.

The journey takes just 40 minutes from the lock up at Dumfries out through the twisty turny curvaceous lands of the south west of Scotland. The incredible steep hairpin bends through the pretty village of Auchencairn and the delightful scenic vista that opens out beyond the trees as the site begins to appear around the corner. It is a stunning site. Set in the area of East Kirkcarswell with the stunning Dundrennan hills rolling down to a sea view. The craggy back drop splattered with the odd tree, bush or cow opens out in front of us as we pull into the site under the watchful eye of the enigmatic smaller Wickerman at the entrance gates.

We are here!

It’s green and misty and mostly empty. Just the skeletal outline of the pop up village yet to come. The grass is lush. The land is quiet except for the sound of buggy’s buzzing about. We follow our usual route to our usual field. Not stopping, winding down windows, smiling and pointing at the views, heart rates rising, voice pitches squealing, so excited we could almost panic. The Wickerman in the main arena is mammoth and almost finished. Production HQ is in place, the main bar area is up and much to our surprise so are half the boards we are due to paint around the as yet non-existent stage. Oh well! Let’s pray for good weather, because we can’t move them into a tent now!

Those in the know of how to erect the big pink tents go get stuck in about deliberating on what goes where, while the rest of us stand back in idle confusion, making tea, making roll-ups, making jokes and laughing. The mist turns into drizzle as eventually some order is obtained and we are directed into action: pushing pulling rolling sliding lifting poles and covers into place. After 2 hours – ta-da! A perfect L shaped base camp of pink tinted ambient happiness.

A hive of activity commences with the sorting of caravans into position, staff tents going up, equipment being unloaded, vans emptied and sent away to reload, kitchens being organised, the impressive focker being set up (a large gas burner ring) perfect for this kind of mass use because it is tough and hardy. The supplies and equipment are organised. And we all sit down for a nice cup of tea.

It starts to pour down. Just as well as it then enabled us to spot the flaws in our tent joining design, so we adapt and move things around until finally the tent doesn’t leak too much and the contents are protected from pulling the whole thing down with more appropriate weight distribution of the boards we need to keep dry. We can only dread what’s happening to the boards already outside.

After some homemade soup, my right hand woman, creative genius and general artistic go to girl and I decide to don our waterproofs and walk onsite to measure up and assess the situation. Leaving the remaining tribe, getting stuck into work and preparing for the indoor work night ahead. The weather has dictated this agenda now, and we can only crack on and hope tomorrow brings clearer skies. We have hopeful conversations of costal weather patterns, passing clouds and optimistic predictions for the week ahead.

As my creative partner and I crest the hill of the main arena the skies open and torrentially soak us instantly. But we are here now. Nothing for it than to get down there and try and take a few measurements. The huge posing Kilt clad Scottish dancing Wickerman is impressive but at this point does nothing to lift our spirits as we slog back, trying to keep our notes dry.

Back at base camp we have leaking dramas afoot and each of us begin relocating items until we can avoid either rain drops or condensation no longer and the art work we produce gets immediately undermined by the conditions. We erect further tents and put wet creations in those instead of sleeping people. What the hell! We will all be up all night anyway!

By 8pm a section of the crew break off heading back into town to attend a birthday party. And some of the crew, six creating cackling women, stay and paint into the night. Trying to listen to music overwhelmed by the generator and using flood lights creating yet more condensation to deal with among the laughter and sighs of contentment.

At times it is quiet (apart from the generator) as we concentrate, loose ourselves in the work and enjoy the spiralling creativity in the glowing pink tent. Finally the thrashing rain stops and the Sheppard’s delight dusk sky that went as pink as our tent that evening gave us true hope for a sunny day ahead tomorrow.

At 2am we call it a day. And there ended day one. Where it all begun. Having fun, hopeful for sun, as one.

Article: Lou Hyland