Sunday night was my 22nd time making the walk from Thunderdome along the Sagecliff Saunter to the fabled Gorge Amphitheater to see and hear Phish do what they do. It is a special place, one of the greatest pocket amphitheaters ever, neatly hewn into the fabric of the rock that lines the walls of the canyon that towers over the Wanapum Lake segment of the Columbia River. No matter how many times I crest the rise and see the view behind the stage, I am never without the awe that the sheer majesty of the channeled scablands and the iridescent sky beyond deserve. If you still haven’t had the opportunity to see Phish at the Gorge, please add it to your bucket list, you are unlikely to be disappointed by the experience. This recap on the other hand, no guarantees.

Sixteen years prior to Sunday night’s show, I was sitting on a 36-foot sailboat, spinning in circles while becalmed in the mid-Pacific high, which had abnormally expanded due to Hurricane Katrina pulling all the available wind on the planet into her maw to lay waste to the gulf coast of Louisiana and beyond. At the same time, I learned on our daily satellite phone check in with family, a couple of my dearest friends were celebrating the birth of their second child Zevariah. As we made our way together into the show on Sunday, I pointed out the bizarrely synchronous events unfolding as Hurricane Ida attempted to do the same thing to Louisiana as he turned sixteen. Not to be outdone, Phish responded with a collection of songs to open the first set that were eerily on point. Sure, I’m ignoring "Cool Amber and Mercury", but "Moma Dance" is a sailing song, "Free" is a sailing and birth giving song, and "Lonely Trip" is a sailing song. I see you seeing me you guys. We appreciated the distinct nod.

[Phish.net welcomes back guest recapper Oliver Pierson for writing this recap. -Ed.]

Rolling into the Saturday show at the Gorge after a beautiful day in Central Washington, I felt all kinds of excitement. Night one’s patient jamming, bust-outs, and the best ever version of "Mull" were behind us, and seemed plausible that the band had now shaken off what little rust may have built up between Atlantic City and the Gorge and was ready to come out swinging. I’m a Vermonter and this Gorge run is my first west coast Phish, but I had been intrigued about seeing the band play in the pacific northwest since I first listened to the 10/13/1991 Olympia Surf Club show where Trey made a point in the Gamehendge narration at the band’s second show in Washington to comment twice about the beauty of the surroundings, and the sense of awe that I always feel out here is noticeable in his voice. Coming over that last rise at the venue before Friday night’s show, and reaching the spot where you first see the stage, the Columbia river, and the eroded canyon walls in the background provoked an exclamatory “wow” from me, and the guy walking next to me said “is this your first time here?” Yes, and I was stoked. Back to Saturday, our crew settled in at the bottom of the terraces Mike-side, waited for the sun to set over the ridge, and made our list of songs with a high show gap that we hoped to hear. And besides being a spectacular venue, I was impressed by the sheer number of vendors inside the venue, perhaps because the beer lines at Hershey two weeks ago required a 45-minute investment. Hello local craft beer tent with great selections and no line!