Over a week has passed since the blaze of a weekend in the bush marked another – and possibly the last – Earthcore up at Undera, and finally my room and my person have regained the usual marks of civilisation. Clothes are washed, tents stored away, the various bites and scratches are faded from happily unburnt skin. Still the image of an overexposed landscape, raucous laughter and a delighfully muddy river fill my mindspace, accompanied by the memory of a continual beat and legs twisting in the dust, as feet ground music into the earth.

It’s hard to describe Earthcore, as the whole is made up by a range of experiences across a seeming plethora of stages and campsites, sprawling through bush and stretched out on a wide expanse of dry, yellow grass. Looking back at the line-up of the actual party, I realise I didn’t see most of the acts, not even the ones I’d highlighted in green, yet the reports which filtered back through my social circle made me feel I was yet a part of it all. It’s a common experience of Earthcore; days stretched out on end, which eventually compact themselves into one vague impression encompassing everything said or done by everyone around them.

The trip started at home, with friends waiting patiently as I dithered, checking I had all the possible necessities for camping, swimming, playing frisbee and most importantly, Rapman. “My car has never not been able to fit everything,” I proudly declared, and true enough, the station wagon somehow ate everything we fed it. “Never not, never not!” we all whooped with glee, as the excitement of the days ahead took hold of our imagination. The journey included the usual sighting of the two-tree rooster on the freeway and the obligatory supermarket shop in Mooroopna, and before too long we found ourselves in the entrance queue, impatience giving way to acceptance as we lounged on the car bonnet listening to Elvis’s greatest hits, which would have been most incongruous to the event, had we not known the likelihood of an actual sighting of the King in the midst of a pschedelic trance festival.

The Friday night was primarily spent locating our campsite which proved to be a challenging enterprise in the dark. Each year the surrounds somehow rearrange themselves into an unfamiliar topography, only to resume the shape of last year once daylight breaks. Tiring of driving around calling out our friends’ names at the top of our voices (which worked on one happy occasion), we repaired to the dance floor, only to find our crew instantly. Tents pitched, we acquainted ourselves with the market and stages; Tsuyoshi in his Numanoid guise was belting out some rock-punk-funk to appreciative stompers, the chill-rave area provided some wacky chilled and not-so-chilled rave, while Not Happy Jan entertained the punters – we’d missed his set, but he entertained us all the same in trademark style. A psy-trance enthusiast friend proclaimed he wasn’t going to leave the Hydra floor all weekend, as Protoculture incited him and a few hundred revellers into a frenzy of leaping and twirling. “And this is only the DJ set!” he added, unable to contain his joy. The 3am close Friday night was, as always, a blessing, shooing us sensibly off to sleep while it was cool enough to do so, before the early burst of sunshine had us up again, ready for the guts of the party.

Bright and early campsites began to stir, and as the day developed so the sun intensified its gaze like a spotlight on Earthcore, the blanket of heat weighing heavily on the site, muffling all thought and activity. More friends arrived or were found on random missions to the market or toilets; old acquaintances greeted warmly. The social aspect of Earthcore as such a large festival is one of its strongest drawcards; you’ll always see people you haven’t seen since last summer’s dusty dance floor, retired during the year and reunited for a few days each year. The dancefloors were red deserts during the day, as the mere thought of standing in the direct sun was enough to melt retinas. Instead, hot bodies clustered at the edges, wherever a skerrick of shade could be found, or delighted in the blessed relief of the sprinkler-spray canopy. Most of the day was spent in or by the river, always my favourite part of Earthcore. We floated on lilos and indulged in mudbaths and enoyable nonsense, not to mention a good dose of mudslinging. Rapman provided a constant backdrop of Casio entertainment for our group, again proving himself as the best friend a camper can have.

It wasn’t until the sun dropped that anyone felt even remotely able to anything other than loll and talk. “The Sun’s rim dips; the stars rush out: At one stride comes the dark;” lo and behold it was night-time and I found my feet moving of their own accord before the main stage. Dulled wits returned shortly after the cooling of the atmosphere and I rushed to the Market Stage to hear perennial favourite Pixleton build a dedicated dancefloor as she unfailingly does, somewhere in the meeting point of house, electro and techno, with a dash of wiggle. Following on, Jack Unit upped the ante, Heath Myers getting giggidy with the effects unit while Slieker’s application of intense, slow-creeping techno provided one of the high points of the festival. Virginia Le’s opening certainly got her noticed, but, growing chilly in my daytime clothing, I tried my escape… only to be utterly waylaid at the mainstage, as Bubble and Squeak ripped the velvety fabric of the night apart with roaring live electroey-beats-whatnot. Whatever you call it, it squeaked and it bubbled and damn, it sounded great over that system. In a party somewhat down on numbers, this was the hour which reminded me of the intensity of Earthcores past – for instance Disko Pussy hitting the main stage with solid techno, or that fabled dawn rain during Infected Mushroom – that feeling of being part of a united crowd, being one of many in a pack of dancers revved up to an almost ridiculous level of excitement, passionately involved with every sound to assault their ears. After such a wearying day, however, stamina wore thin and after a satisfying bout of star-gazing I fell happily into my sleeping bag, renouncing hours of tempting minimal techno on the Sunny market stage for a few hours of rest.

Rising before 6am is never easy, and Sunday was no exception. Only the thought of Michael Mayer could drag me from my comfort at such an ungodly hour and thus I stumbled in straggly fashion with like-minded bleary types back to the party, to be wowed by the German underground superstar and all round good guy. This was one of the rare occasions when getting up at daybreak was entirely worth the pain, as Mayer lived up to expectations as the act validating the entire festival experience for non-trance fans. After toying with ideas over the first hour, Mayer chose a direction and pursued it over the next two hours, enraptured listeners in tow. As with the last time he played in the Australian bush, Mayer built a framework out of the 4/4 time signature, then explored the space within and around it, each new rhythmic or melodic element a child climbing and swinging from the monkey bars. He has the rare ability to make minimal – a genre which has of late known unaccustomed popularity and suffered an accompanying increase in mediocrity – exciting and full of feeling; here is a DJ adept at using structure and emphasis skilfully enough that people actually listen to and engage with the sounds they hear. At times he broke from the framework with roaring intensity; when new Speicher release Wet Summer (by John Dalbäck) erupted, all limbs broke loose from their usual movements to celebrate. Behind Mayer’s always smiling person we could see the sleeve emblazoned with the KOM EX catalogue number and I was reminded how strong an influence this man has had on the music we listen to in recent years.

The only drawback to the morning was the noticeable lack of décor to enrich the experience. Earthcore has traditionally spent more effort (and presumably money) on sourcing original and striking décor and this year’s surrounds were somewhat disappointing, but it was particularly apparent in the Sunny area, as the natural beauty was fenced out, reducing the best stage musically (to my taste) to what was essentially a field of sand encased in a white plastic sheet. Any relief to the stark environment was fallen upon greedily by eyes hungry for stimulation: Elvis – having survived another exploding television in the confines of the VIP area – was accosted several times for photo opportunities which he granted with grace. Roving performers such as the Sonic Manipulator also added to the party’s entertainment count, but more exotic installation art would certainly have been appreciated.

After the morning grew too hot to keep dancing to Gavin Keitel, the day became a repeat of the one before, involving campsite, river and Rapman (who, it was happily found, was endowed with an as-yet undiscovered cowbell). Sounds from the main stage drifted muddily down the river throughout the afternoon, which I paid proper attention to only when I heard a track from Vitalic’s No Fun EP (I think it was Juliet India). Spiro’s closing speech was an inaudible blur from where we were, so – as with the reports of the police and sniffer dog presence – I had to rely on incomplete 3rd hand information to have an idea of what had transpired. Despite the announcement that this would be our last taste of Earthcore, there was still goodness to be squeezed from this party. Sunday night saw the Red Bus come to life with rollicking tunes from the Semi-Retired crew and Digital Primate. I was so tired I fell asleep on a handy picnic rug next to the dancefloor, feeling like the Youtube never-say-die raver as the infectious beats battled fatigue within my prostrate frame.

Monday arrived in standard inevitable fashion and it was with regret that I packed belongings and saw our little tent city reduced to piles of poles and fabric. I drank in a last vision of trees and pricklegrass: another year’s Earthcore passed, again I had neglected to take any photos and would have to be content with an image of overexposed, dry land and a pleasant feeling of exhaustion in my legs.