The High Sierra Music Festival has ended for 2024. Whether it returns in 2025 remains to be seen. Co-producer Dave Margulies has indicated that the festival’s future is “very precarious” and dependent upon achieving sustainable ticket sales.
If there’s a single thread running through the diverse experiences at High Sierra Music Festival, it’s community. Or, perhaps more accurately, a milieu of different communities interacting together — themed camps, vendors who’ve become like family, artists and musicians, the locals gathered under the Plumas Arts tent, and more.
At the same time, the possible end of High Sierra as we know it has resurrected an old controversy, deep in the festival’s past.
The town and the village
The long weekend began Wednesday night, with a community kickoff party at the Drunk Brush in Quincy, featuring seven local groups headlined by Quincy favorite Nightbrain. Between 430 and 450 locals and festivalgoers were in attendance, said owner Riccardo Jacobus. “It was a great crowd. We smashed any other record we’ve had.”
The aim was to highlight local musicians. “And it just blew up. It was really good,” said Jacobus.
Margulies describes the scene at High Sierra itself as a village. And for many vendors and exhibitors, it really does feel like one. “We set up in almost the same way every year,” explained Beth Karow, who owns and operates Sunshine Jubilee Tie-Dye with her husband Angelo. “You know your neighbors.”
Busy food booths line the path from the front gate to the Tulsa Scott Pavilion, among them the Javagogo coffee stand. Proprietor Simon Ballard has sold coffee at every High Sierra since 1992. In addition to working events all over northern California, focusing on events with an eclectic music selection, Javagogo is the host of its own twice-yearly festival in Joshua Tree, where the business is based.
For Ballard, High Sierra offers a chance to see people he’s been building relationships with for 30 years. “It’s the community element that we kind of really dig,” he said.
This year, though, the event felt less crowded than usual. “The heat’s been getting to people this year for sure,” he said. The festival opened on a sunny Fourth of July, with a high of 99. It would only get hotter as the weekend progressed, peaking at 106 on Sunday, according to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration.
The team from Sunshine Jubilee has been coming to the event since 1994, two years after its start. Beth missed just one season: 1995. Their daughter Willow was 4 days old when High Sierra started that year, so Angelo attended alone. Missing his family, he befriended a couple, John and Carla, who were sitting with their infant daughter Kiera on a blanket near the booth. The next year, when Angelo, Beth and Willow returned, John and Carla greeted them with first-birthday gifts. The families are still friends; the two girls grew up at the event. The son of another friend has been staffing the Sunshine Jubilee ice cream cart since age 13. His tip jar has always read “College Fund.” This year he’s 18 and has just completed his freshman year.
“High Sierra stands alone. There’s nothing like High Sierra,” said Karow, citing the multiple stages, the marathon length, and the prevailing sense of community.
“High Sierra stands alone. There’s nothing like High Sierra.”
Beth Karow, Sunshine Jubilee Tie-Dye owner
Up front, to the right of the Grandstand Stage, is Wharf Rats, a volunteer-run sober group that originated in the Grateful Dead scene of the early ’80s, taking their name from the 1971 song “Wharf Rat.” They’ve established a presence at Grateful Dead and related shows, and have attended High Sierra since 2007, with regular meetings and a sober camp on site.
Some people are actively in recovery and counting time. Others may simply be trying not to drink or use, explained Lisa T., a volunteer and organizer. For many, attending concerts in the past included substance use. It can be challenging and scary to come back into that environment after getting sober. People may feel disconnected from their old friends and camps. The Wharf Rats supports people who want to enjoy the music and feel safe, giving them a place to belong.
“It’s a very tight community. … We’re here because we love the scene and love the music, and it’s a great experience,” said Lisa T. You find the “sober Deadheads” dancing in the front left of every crowd.
Further down the row is the Super Rad Cape Co. of Boise, Idaho, a staple at the festival since 2018. “These are costume people, and we sell capes,” said owner Sara Syme. Of course, when it’s over 100 degrees, the prospect of buying a blanket you can wear becomes a little less appealing, Syme acknowledges. In terms of sales, High Sierra is about average. But in terms of the “fun factor, it’s off the charts. … It’s a great community here,” she said. “We absolutely adore this town. What you have here is just magical.”
“What you have here is just magical.”
Sara Syme, Super Rad Cape Co. owner
Artists and audiences
For musicians, festivals like High Sierra offer opportunities to meet with artists, reach new fans and mingle with industry leaders.
“Rather than slowly grinding it out in small venues, a great festival performance can put you in front of hundreds of potential new fans. We absolutely love the festival scene!” said Jesse Iaquinto, of Fireside Collective.
Across the four stages of High Sierra, artists were greeted with enthusiasm. Performers ranged from big-name headliners like Primus, Cimafunk and Ziggy Marley to festival favorites like the California Honey Drops to first-timers like Big Richard, which, by the second performance, had acquired a devoted fanbase familiar with the band’s quirky alter egos and personalized cheers.
Local Courtney Anne Jackson has missed only one High Sierra Music Festival since the event first came to Quincy when she was a child. She attends other festivals as well, but High Sierra is the “every-year one.” This year, changes to passes, parking and camping arrangements have been challenging and alienating for locals, she said. But that doesn’t change how special the festival is.
“We’ve grown up here,” she said. “We dreamed of bringing our kids and families.”
At the rear of the Vaudeville tent sat Dan Thompson, of Grass Valley, and his 6-week-old son. Thompson, who has been attending the event since 2008, said that this has been a great year. There’s a sense of community that has only been enhanced “because we’re all just in it together bearing the heat.”
Thompson met his spouse at High Sierra. When the couple heard that the festival may not continue after this year, they decided not to miss it. He has been looking forward to bringing his kids and building a family culture around a group trip to High Sierra, he said.
“I’m asking people — we’d all be willing to pay more to keep it alive,” he said.
Controversy divides early partners
The High Sierra Music Festival didn’t break even as a business in its early years either, according to Jim Stearns, a co-founder who now directs and produces Salmonfest in Homer, Alaska. He traces the festivals’ origins and inspiration to his 1970s wilderness retreat and conference center, Avery Ranch, deep in the Stanislaus National Forest, and in particular to a 1989 summer Solstice party headlined by the Grateful Dead. In 1991, the first official High Sierra took place at Leland Meadows, near Strawberry — a comparatively accessible location.
Stearns and current co-producers Margulies and Rebecca Sparks disagree over the financial history of the festival and the circumstances that landed it in Plumas County. Stearns was one of the founders, Margulies said, but he has not been involved for 25 years. Stearns remains proud of the festival’s values, and “extended family vibe,” which he traces back to its Grateful Dead roots.
Did High Sierra ’24 see the volume it needs to sustain itself?
Measured by the enthusiastic response from patrons, organizers, artists, vendors and volunteers, the 32nd High Sierra was a resounding success.
“I personally found High Sierra to be one of the best festivals I’ve ever experienced. It really seemed to have it all. Great size, great music, great vendors and artists, the festivalgoers were awesome and it was in a beautiful location,” said Fireside Collective’s Iaquinto.
Sparks described the weather as “heatmagedon” but called the festival “a beautiful, wonderful gathering of the High Sierra community.” Margulies agreed that the 2024 event was outstanding: “The love and appreciation for the High Sierra Music Festival was at an all-time high.”
This year also saw the lowest ticket sales on record, with “just a hair under 4,000” sold. Sales were so slow that organizers considered canceling at one point, but then Roy passed away. “And we knew we had to do it,” said Margulies, referring to his longtime producing partner Roy Carter, who passed away earlier this year.
“Was it a good weekend? It was an amazing weekend. Were the numbers good? No. But we avoided disaster,” he reported.
As for what that means for the future, “we have a lot to look at. We want to continue it. But just because you have desire doesn’t mean that you have a sustainable business solution.”
Beth Karow, of Sunshine Jubilee Tie-Dye, captured the general sentiment best when she said, “It’s not a forever thing.” If the festival does end after this season, she said, “it was good. No regrets.”
