"I attended this event in July 1973 shortly after I had taken my
A levels. It was held at an amazing site high on the cliffs overlooking
the Bristol Channel - great for looking down on the continuously moving
sea hundreds of feet below which, with the help of whatever psychedelic
substance you were on at the time, allowed one to exclaim, quite unself-consciously,
"Wow, far out", and it was far out whether you were tripping,
stoned, or just getting off on the view.
Three of us had hitched down from our posh private school in Sussex, and
being terribly hip, or thinking we were, sat in the fields en route skinning
up whenever we got the chance. We arrived on Exmoor and, as I recall, slept
on a bleak, derelict and disused railway platform, before making our way
to the site the following day.
I remember little detail of the festival, except there were probably only
a couple of thousand people in the audience at the very most; the weather
was indifferent, but I recall seeing the Global Village Trucking Company
who used to attend all those small free festivals and Hawkwind and the Pink
Fairies, who, at some stage, combined to play under the name of "Pinkwind".
It was a great little festival and we were transported out of the site by
a bunch of south Wales hippies in their ex-post office van which nearly
didn't make down Polperro Hill or up the other side.
Any further revelations about Trentishoe would be much appreciated as would
Stonehenge 77 or 78 - can't remember which one I was at.
Cheers
A nostalgic fan, now turned serious London businessman (well, not very serious
but remembering fondly the great days of festival going).
Keith Christmas has these
fractured memories
I was at trentishoe in 1973 - I had Magic Muscle
living in the farm I had rented at the time
I thought someone called Louise Fitzgerald was somehow involved but I could
be wrong
I don't remember a thing about any set I did and maybe that's a good thing
but I do remember it was very cold and misty and the 'court' that MM's Bristol
hangers-on were holding became very wierd indeed.
my car clapped out trying to get up some monster of a hill nearby
keith christmas
Nasher,
who now runs a music store in Bath , was there and he has FILM of the event
.also
have footage of Trentishoe Earth Fayre,1973.....site was discovered by West
Coast Hell's Angels who told Greg Haynes about it as ideal festival site....Greg
ran N.Devon Snail (underground mag in Barnstaple).....site was put together
by freaks from Bath,Bridgewater,N.Devon....ex Earth Star Structures crew
built stage /domes...(I propped up the stage with my head whilst Lorrie
swapped swivels for clips)......."rival " free kitchens Cosmic
Carrot and Mystical Munchies....living on brown rice with rat shit in it
plus nettle soup and winkles and scrumpy....Pink Fairies selling beer, Globs
played, massive state of the art PA.....the Chemists giving away bags of
acid....(thanks)....Ron Reid taking pix....Magic Muscle/Pink Fairies/Hawkwind
playing en masse as Muscular Pinkwind.....Rocky and the Jets with naked
compere (Phil Shepherd) proclaiming "Peace and Profit"....and
the rest !!?
I
ran half the Trentishoe stuff the other night,on a crap projector.....Globs,Keith
Xmas.....stage building,freaks,tents,Natural Theatre Co.(as of Rocky and
the Jets),including them entering the van
Dave Goodman remembers letching into whilst tripping !! Shots of Laurie
the scaffolding gaffer,and Lenny ,the guy behind Earth Star Structures (later
financed by British Intelligence and the CIA to run "Peace through
Security" in opposition to CND !!) (He's also visible in the "Glastonbury
Fayre" movie,ligging on the Pyramid stage.) Somewhere I have more of
Trentishoe,and some synch sound tapes of the bands.(Not Muscular Pinkwind
unfortunately.....I left during their set,when all the punters arrived ).
It's gonna take some time to plough thru it all, as there's dozens of hours
of film altogether,plus all the sound.
....cheers
Nasher.
Recently discovered
in the depths of the overloaded mailbox, this post from James Cooper
An Experience
of Trentishoe 73.
With a group of friends,we wound our way up through Exmoor in a bright
yellow Commer van,filled with the smell of soggy Afghan coats,Patchouli
oil,and the smell of a resin that I have never been quite able to find again.
We stuffed our van full as we came across "Freaks" on foot, caught
in our headlights in the dark...To the cry "There's another one!"...the
side door would slide open issuing out a thick cloud of resinous smoke over
the happy wanderer,before revealing the rows of grinning faces within.
As
we drove along,a sudden cry went up (short bursts of squeaky laughter from
the girls).."Its a Fairy!".."The Green Man!"..."Oberon!".
Reversing,and aiming our headlights on the hedge containing the mystical
creature.We emerged,and formed a half circle...the bravest reaching out
with a stick to part the branches. Suddenly..the hedge spoke! "Fuck
Off!" Our half circle soon became a line..each holding each other at
arms length,one behind the other...as half the hedge detatched itself..and
stepped forward..."Fuck Off!..I'm on a three day exercise!".
To
the sound of exhaled breath's,and a distant "I need another joint man!"
We strained and focused on a perfectly camouflaged..soldier,leaves and sticks
all over..his face covered in hues of green!. "We're going to Trentishoe
man...why don't you come with us?" One of the girls stepped forward
stroking his leaves in wonder,"You're our Green Man". Someone
handed him a joint and he stood there..slowly breaking down to our requests
of "COME TO TRENTISHOE MAN!" Suddenly,with a sharp grin, he emptied
out his full oratory skills with an inhaled "Fuck It!" and jumped
in the van amidst cheers from all.
Thus
we entered the site,with our"Green Man" fully groomed for the
occasion!
He wandered off into the throng....I did catch occasional glimpses of him...The
star attraction at one of the free food camps...another time,right up at
the stage..arms in the air dancing to Hawkwind. The last sighting was not
so auspicious...
in between two "peak caps to nose" MPs!...but he was still smiling.............Fuck
it!
These are from my own notes towards a book I am writing about my Festival
experiences from 68/79...and there are many...hope you can use it,
Cheers
Regards,
J.C (Enfield UK)
Rob Bond
was there from start to finish .....
I
won’t be as memorable to the Trentishoe punters as Bessie my three
legged dog despite the fact that I was first in the site (by a couple of
weeks) and the last to leave. Rumours of the event were in the air when
picked them up in Brighton and I hitched over to the place pronto and arrived
the same time as Leam -another denizen of the Brighton crash pad scene.
The organising lot, Greg Haynes, Mike Tanner, Dave Mackay and Norman who
was the son of the farmer whose land it was were all there doing a sort
of site visit. That night we all camped down at the hunters coomb place.
They all left the next morning and Me and Leam took up residence on our
ownio’s
Bit by bit folk began to arrive, quite a few of the early ones being Brighton
muckers. We built ourselves a residence out of materials that began to turn
up and found roles for ourselves. Leam got squads together to dig toilets
and I established a tool shop in a wee plastic shelter.
After a while Lawrie turned up and built the dome and after a great deal
of searching everybody realised that my lot had made our living quarters
out of the covering for the dome. There was an attempt to squat but it was
at last admitted that there was a greater good involved so we abandoned
our cause ( Incidentally the tent inhabited by Dave MacKay and George of
the global villagers was also made of the same material but we didn’t
know that then). Anyhow revenge was obtained because while the dome was
being clad in our erstwhile roofing material I was asked to try and keep
the hordes out of the dome as the powers that be wanted to reserve it as
‘Headquarters”. Talk about King Canute, you couldn’t have
held back the golden horde from getting up into the balcony in the dome
with their sleeping bags any more than he could have held back the sea.
I had moved myself into my wee tool shop so I watched the debacle with glee.
As for the festival proper I cant remember too much, I was much too stoned
and probably spent more time round the free ice cream van consuming the
dope laced cornets. I can’t say I can remember a single act it was
just the experience of the camp that has stayed with me for so long. That
and thrashing Mike Tanner at chess in the Kingston club over at Combe Martin
which I found myself going to more often as the site filled up.
Well once it was over and done with a squad of us stayed on with Greg Haynes
to help tidy the place up. I can’t say I remember noticing any tree
damage, in fact being so windblown and all the trees there weren’t
up to much by firewood standards, mainly hawthorn. In fact I’ve just
remembered right at the beginning we got hold of a truck and went to some
glen and brought in tons of dry wood so there was a real thing in our heads
about not hacking live trees about.
Anyway once the site was returned to it’s original state and Leam
and I were last to leave. I went back a few years ago and met Norman who
let me and missis camp there. What struck me most was how small it all was.
It has always loomed so large in my mind that I’ve always thought
it bigger than it is.
From
the pen and lingering memory of Rob
Bond (E-mail if you remember me or if you just want a chat about our
salad days
Hi
I was sorry to learn from your site that Greg Haynes has passed away. He and
I were friends in the early seventies, we shared a house in Parracoombe along
with his girlfriend Cathy Apps and a guy called Mick Hennessy in the winter
of 1972.
I remember Greg as being very laid back and tolerant in his relationships
with others. (Especially me) He was also full of mental energy always having
some project on the go.
In 1973 in his parents retired and sold their hotel (Shelly’s cottage
hotel in Lynmouth) and moved out and allowed Gregg to live
in the family cottage at the back of the hotel .I stayed there from July to
December that year along with an American guy named George who had an ear
operation to avoid the draft to Vietnam. And was now desperate to stay in
England for reasons that need not be mentioned here.
For
such a tiny place, Lynmouth had a real scene going on in the early seventies.
(Percy and lord Byron would have felt right at
home) Greg persuaded his parents to hire his friends to work in the hotel
as waiters, chamber maids, and Chefs ect, it was common to see a very stoned
long haired hippy in a very cheap short haired wig serving soup to very
straight holidaymakers. Greg even got his parents to let him organise a
live acoustic Gig in the hotel one night. The band was headed by a guy name
Spix (Steven Spires) the place was full of freaks from all over North Devon,
who knows what the residents made of it all ! In the summers of 1972-3 the
afternoons were free to take trips to the beach or up the river. The nights
spent in Jam Sessions in somebody’s room in the staff quarters, visiting
friends or in the Stag & Stable or the Bath Pubs.
As
regards Trentishoe:
One memory I have is seeing a very wide-eyed Greg, giving a guided tour
to a group of Local Businessmen and dignitaries- I wonder what they made
of the toilet facilities, and the ice cream?
I recall going with Greg in the winter of 1972 to meet with someone (I think
it was Mick tanner from Combe Martin) who had some land as a possible site
for the festival but was turned down for the Trentishoe site. I didn’t
realise that it was an Hells Angel that put him on to it, not surprised
though because Greg had made friends of the Bristol (or Tauton) chapter
in winter of 72.
One day we went to the NORTH DEVON SNAIL office in silver street Barnstable(I
think the editor was called Pete Blake) and the front room was full of Hells
Angels, they had come to invite us to spend Christmas with them in and write
an article on their "alternative life style" great idea but who
would go? (“Heavy Scene Man”)
Well to his credit Greg went and wrote it all down in the snail for us to
read. It did turn out Heavy in parts but Greg took it in his
stride.
The
summer before Greg died I had a holiday in Lynton, and hoping to make contact
with him again, and talk over old times I sought
out his cousin, Peter, who gave me his address, which I promptly lost before
I could copy it down.
We think there’s a time for everything but that’s not always
so.
I
would be grateful If anyone has any info on Greg and friends from back then
Tony from Birmingham
March 09
Hi,
I probably went to half the festivals in the UK from the IoW in 1969 to
Watchfield in 1975, when I left the country, ending up in Hong Kong where
I still live..
My
memories of Trentishoe strangely don't include any of the music - probably
because the same "usual suspects" - Global Village Trucking Co.,
Hawkwind and the Pink Fairies - played all the free festivals, so the memories
of them are blurred into one. What I chiefly remember is running into two
sisters I knew from my local pub back home in Hemel Hempstead and climbing
doen the cliffs with them and a few other people to skinnydip off the beach
(if it can be called that - it was mostly rocks) below.
I
also recall trekking down to the nearest sizeable village (Combe Martin,
I think) with several other people from the site, picking and eating wild
strawberries from the hedgerows along the way. The barmaid in the pub kept
charging us less for each successive round as she got drunker and drunker!
One other memory is sneaking a photo of a pretty red-haired girl as she
washed herself nude. She turned round and spotted me but just smiled. I
still have those photos somewhere, but it wouldn't be fair to her to post
them here. She's probably a grandmother by now.
Cheers,
Rod
Hi,
I was very sorry to hear (very belatedly) about the sad passing of Greg
Haynes. I have been trying to get in contact with him again for some years
and never seemed to find the correct links until now.
I played in a band (The Wild Winds) with Greg in the mid 1960’s in
Lynton/Lynmouth. We were mostly crap but had tremendous enthusiasm and a
loyal local following. We really enjoyed the few gigs we played apart from
the disasters at Combemartin and South Molton, but we were only 15 at the
time!
We used to rehearse in the dining room at Shellie's Cottage Hotel in the
off season, and annoy the Plymouth Breverin in the then adjacent chapel
when we
rehearsed on Sundays. At that time we had all of 15 Watts at our desposal!!!
Kindest regards
Eddie Sheppard
