Goats, Guitars, and Queer Communion at the First Annual Bramble Bash

Ever wanted to hang out with goats, get a tattoo on a school bus, and camp under a sky full of stars? At Bramble Bash, Oregon’s dreamiest new grassroots festival, radical queer joy grows wild in the woods. Words and photos by Bren Swogger.

Down a winding country road, at the top of a mountain, deep in the woods outside Estacada, a gathering is taking place. A quiet kind of magic is humming in the air.

Here in the fairy forest, tucked among the trees, the first annual Bramble Bash unfolds. A brand new music festival born in the heart of Coyote Woods, just south of Portland but worlds away from city life. It carries the granola soul of Pickathon with the wild, untamed spirit of Woodstock. All hippie. All queer. All homegrown.

You hike in down a narrow trail, ducking branches and brushing past sun-warmed bramble, until the forest opens into a golden meadow. Two small stages stand nestled in the clearing: one tucked beneath the cool shade of a towering cedar, the other built off the side of a green bus where people are, yes, getting tattoos.

Around the meadow, vendors have set up camp with handmade earrings, painted tapestries, dreamcatchers strung with beads, fresh-baked cookies, and herbal iced beverages keeping things cool in the summer heat. Elsewhere, someone is making clay from the meadow’s dirt and spinning it into pottery on the spot.

Off to the side, a pen of goats bleats lazily in the sun.

Yes. There are goats. More festivals should have goats.

I arrive on Saturday, the second day of the two-day fest. The night before, I’m told, was soft and low-key: local bands, a DJ spinning under the stars, as friends and artists gathered under the glow of a full moon.

Now the meadow is baking in 90-degree sun, and the crowd is growing, laid out on hay bales and picnic blankets under the shade of the cedar tree. They wear flower crowns and flowing skirts, thrifted overalls and gauzy tie-dye, sandals caked with dirt, faces flushed from heat. It’s exactly what you’d imagine… and somehow even more beautiful.

Kicking off the day’s music is singer-songwriter Julia Waters (pictured in the cover photo), whose honey-soft voice echoes that of Joni Mitchell. “This is my first festival I’ve played,” she says. Lulled by the sound of softly plucked guitar, the crowd finds refuge in the shade as the heat climbs and the first notes of the day float through the meadow.

But Bramble Bash is more than a stage in the woods. It’s a love letter to community, and a wild experiment in what happens when you build something by hand, from the ground up.

Bramble Bash came together as a dream realized by a small crew of friends, who wanted to bring a little bit of magic to the community. Among the group behind the magic is Mo Hein, who I meet in the middle of the meadow, fresh from a sound bath meditation.

Mo has called Coyote Woods home for the past eight months. They first lived on the bus in the meadow—yes, the same tattoo bus, where they’re now getting a new tattoo: a flower with an eyeball in the center. “This bus held a lot for me through some painful months,” they tell me. “So this feels full circle. What’s a little more pain for art?”

These days, Mo lives in a small trailer at the entrance to the farm, a welcome upgrade with a shower and running water. But it’s the stillness of the woods that’s been the real balm. “It’s been so good for my nervous system to be outside the city. To hear the birds, see the stars… It’s grounding. It’s peace,” they say. “But then when I go back into the city I’m like, ‘This is too much. How do people live like this?’ And they’re probably wondering how I live out here with no Wi-Fi. But I love it.”

In addition to Mo, Bramble Bash was brought to life with help from landowner Meredith (who also calls Coyote Woods home), and organizer Bob, who handled the booking and sound. “Meredith has done so much to transform this land into the magic it is now,” Mo explains. “And Bob has really brought the music side to life.”

As we talk, bluegrass band Front Porch Swingers begins to play on the cedar stage.

“Oh! I love this song,” Mo says suddenly, perking up. “It’s called ‘Mountain Girls Sure Know How to Love.’ Billy Strings covered it. I’m actually wearing his hat right now.”

The whole lineup is hyperlocal, mostly friends and musicians from the Portland area “The music was all Bob’s doing, which has been fun,” Mo says. “A lot of local people I hadn’t heard of before. I’m like, ‘Ooh, I need to check them out on Spotify or go to their next show.’”

The hope is for Bramble Bash to become a yearly tradition. “We just wanted to bring some magic out here. To create something intimate, something rooted in community. So much of this came together from the ground up through word of mouth and shared resources. And now that the trails are cut, the stages are built, the outhouses are in place… next year will be smoother. We can take what we learned and just amplify it.”

But more than just the music or logistics, it’s the heart of it all that shines through.

“Being in community with people just feels so important right now,” Mo says. “Especially in the times we’re living in. Species don’t survive without community. And music is medicine. This festival is about creating our own heaven on Earth. The world may be crumbling, but we get to build something new. And it starts right here.”

Later, as the sun reaches its highest point, the goats escape their pen and wander freely into the shade, mingling with festivalgoers as Shore Pines kicks off their sun-soaked set on the main stage.

No one tries to stop them. It feels exactly right.