Is it already almost time for Pickathon again? It feels like the annual journey to Pendarvis Farm comes quicker every year. Now entering its 26th year, the four-day, genre-agnostic blowout, taking place this year from July 30-August 2, never seems to last long enough. It’s important to squeeze every last bit of juice out of the festival. After all, you never know when the juice will run out for good.
Yes, that sounds dramatic. When I asked festival founder Zale Schoenborn what advice he would give to anybody coming to the festival, he was direct: treat every Pickathon like it’s your last. After hearing him say something similar every year, he’s begun to sound like the Dread Pirate Roberts: “Party well, Pendarvians, we might not be back next year!” And yet, for 26 seasons (not counting those pesky pandemic gap years), the musically ravenous have been able to return to the 80-acre farm in Happy Valley, delighted to watch the biggest bands of two years from now as they perform in the woods, in barns, and on ornate, artistically designed stages.
If you know people who consider concertgoing to be a key part of their personalities, you’ve probably heard Pickathon spoken of in otherworldly terms, like the nonsensical chatter of someone who just woke up from a beautiful dream. If you’ve never been, it can be daunting. Luckily, there’s no wrong way to do Pickathon. Our Pickathon ambassador, Holly Hazelwood, is ready and eager to be the fat and jovial Virgil to your Dante, delighted to help you figure out your way through everything—the bands, the food, the camping—the festival has to offer. We just hope you’ll get to come back next year, ready to shepherd the next flock of first-timers through our piece of splendor in the woods.
What is Pickathon?
I’ll get the hyperbole out of the way first: Something in the dirt of Pendarvis Farm, in the Pleasant Valley foothills, has allowed Pickathon, an otherworldly haven for music lovers, to grow wild. It’s a place that shouldn’t exist, and that everyone involved in it seems permanently shocked still exists, but that has persisted for more than a quarter-century in sheer defiance of fiscal responsibility. There are many great festivals in this world, but Pickathon stands above it all, in ways that are easy to describe, but hard to understand until you’ve actually wandered its grounds.
But what is it, really? Basically, it’s indie rock summer camp. Once a bluegrass festival, Pickathon has become a different beast entirely. Have you ever been on a hike, and wished a Steve Earle or Acid King concert was waiting at the end? Have you ever seen (or missed) an awesome set at a music festival, and wished you had another chance to see it? Do you hate the sight of festival grounds covered in litter? Pickathon is your new home. This year, a jaw-dropping 84 acts that span every genre under the sun will take over the Pendarvis family farm, surrounded by families and longtime friends, all of whom are just as ravenous as you.
Who should I see?
That’s a very personal question! While Pickathon is just like every music festival, in that it rewards those who dig, research, and plan heavily, it’s also the kind of hippie bullshit mecca that rewards the festivalgoers who arrive on Thursday night and string up a hammock just off the Chanterelle Path.
Live music is a living organism that never feels the same as what you hear through headphones, and time and time again, the performances you see at Pickathon can leave you angry at yourself for going into the long weekend with preconceived notions about the bands. If you’ve ever heard someone tell you they’d go to Pickathon without ever seeing the lineup, this is why. Often, the bands you end up loving the most are ones you’d never heard of before.
When all else fails, though, you have many options: you can consult the Portland Mercury’s own guide to the lineup, you can listen to local podcast Enjoy Your Life’s annual “Ask Zale” episode hosted by yours truly, or you can just trust your gut. While you’re at it, get comfortable asking strangers one simple question: “Who have you seen and loved so far?”
What are the stages like?
Every stage is different, and serves a unique purpose. There’s the de facto “headliner” stages like Paddock and Cherry Hill, the intimacy of Lucky Barn, the impossible beauty of the twig temple that is Woods Stage, the cramped and sweaty glory of Galaxy Barn, and everything in between. Many of these stages change drastically from year to year, constructed by local architectural teams from PSU and beyond. We have no idea what Windmill and Grove will look like this year, but we’re excited to be blown away.
The biggest wildcard in 2026, though, is the newly minted Farmhouse Stage, located near the old Welcome Tent (and next to the Pendarvis house). This promises to be one of the best updates of the year: here, you’ll find a boundless array of Portland acts, including a Thursday showcase of members of the Portland Songwriters Guild. This stage only runs from Thursday through Saturday, so make sure you pop over to see your friends and neighbors before the final day!
Should I camp out?
There’s indeed no wrong way to do Pickathon, and that’s true for lodging as well. Those who go home every night are just as valid as those who stress from August to July about where they’ll pitch their tent next year. However, we’re going to tell you a secret: you should camp out. Even if you hate camping, even if your campsite is just four blanket walls and a hammock, you should surrender your life entirely to Pendarvia for four days.
In fact, I shouldn’t even be telling you this: after years of begging, the camping gods have smiled upon us, bestowing four-day passholders the opportunity to purchase a pass that allows you to set up camp on Wednesday evening, giving you a jump on those chumps who balk at the chance to set up and cozy up, safe in the knowledge that you aren’t going to need to do this shit the next morning. Maybe it seems extreme, but the ability to find a campsite with easy access for the weekend will make your time in “Pickathon World” that much better.
If you do camp out, there’s also an outstanding gear drop service that’ll take all of your heavy gear up the mountain for you. It might take some time for it to be dropped off, but it’ll give you ample time to get comfortable with the festival grounds.
Okay, but what about the food?
The secret to Pickathon’s lack of endless trash is the magical plate/bowl hybrid. Every longtime Pickathoner has a cabinet overflowing with these brightly colored dishes. You buy it at the beginning of the weekend, and when you’re done with your meal, you trade it for a token that, in turn, you give to the next vendor you’d like to fill your plate. (If you’re confused, here’s a handy guide!) They are, without a doubt, the best innovation I’ve ever seen from a festival. They rule.
Even better: all of the food you put in that plate is likely to be excellent. The Market Neighborhood is packed with local favorites, from Pine State Biscuits to Ate Oh Ate to Carioca Bowls. Our beloved Boke Bowl won’t be there this year, but Deschutes Brewery, Obon Shokudo, and Flying Fish will. Mercifully, the prices won’t even be extra punishing; the prices you get at Pickathon will be what you’d pay on Burnside or Division. If you’re starving and can’t decide, don’t overthink it: that teriyaki plate with mac salad at Ate Oh Ate will carry you through to the end of the night.
Is there anything I need to bring?
This answer hasn’t changed much since last year. The list of Must-Haves for a weekend at Pickathon varies based on the experience you want to have. If you’re camping, consider bringing pruning shears and a shovel, along with a garbage bag to make sure you don’t leave any trash out in the woods.
A few things are universal: sensible shoes, sunscreen, earplugs, nasal spray (to help combat the Pendarvis dust), wet wipes (see again: the dust), and a healthy appetite for artistic discovery. Oh, and a water bottle. We’re begging you to hydrate.
