Pink Sheets and Pre-Festival Purgatory
Wackeeeeeen!
Did I really make it this year? I bloody well did. And I did better than I expected. Let me take you through my Wacken experience, starting with Day 1—Tuesday, 30th July.
I wake up at an ungodly hour after a sleepless night in my daughter’s pink bedroom. Our actual bedroom is already occupied by my parents, who are bravely watching the kids for the rest of the week. Marie is testing her brand-new airbed in the living room. Everyone’s displaced, everything’s slightly chaotic—the perfect prelude to a metal festival.
By 6:30 AM, I abandon all hope of sleep and crawl out of bed, already asking myself how on earth I’m going to get through the day. A shower and three coffees later, the headache remains and my soul hasn't loaded. Strong start.
At 9:00 AM, we’re finally hitting the road. Our group—affectionately known as Horstforce—is Wacken-bound.
Traffic Jams & Window Fame
First stop: Niendorf, to collect Jan-Hendrik. The drive to Hamburg is a slow, jam-filled crawl. The A7 is basically a parking lot until we hit the Elbe Tunnel. It takes nearly an hour and a half to cover what should’ve been a much shorter distance. Marie’s window decorations are already doing their job — she’s befriending strangers through the glass. As W:O:A cars begin to pile up around us, the excitement starts building.
Once we’re past Hamburg and our group’s complete, the road opens up like a blessing. The A23 is suspiciously clear. No traffic. No delays. Just sunshine, windmills and green fields.
We exit at Hanerau-Hademarschen and follow the signs to the Residenz Evil campground. Pulling into the parking lot feels surreal. After all the build-up, we’re actually here. Wristbands? No queue. Check-in? Barely a wait. I'm quietly waiting for something to go horribly wrong, but nothing does. Our Graveyard plots are confirmed—right next to each other. Spirits rise. This wasn’t guaranteed, and the thought of camping separately had been a looming logistical nightmare.
The spots are perfect —near the path (excellent for people-watching), close to toilets, showers, and food tents. A miracle. We’re smug already.
Manual Labour and a Small Crisis
Of course, before we can actually sit in our chairs and act like we’ve accomplished something, we need to carry our gear from the car to the tents. And oh, what fresh hell that is.
It’s hot. The sun is merciless. And we have too much stuff. We pack like we’ve been exiled, not camping. The car’s only about 500 metres away—technically a five-minute walk, but with full gear and zero grace, it feels like an endurance trial. Everyone else seems to have brought handcarts like functioning adults. We did not.
So we walk. And carry. And regret. I lose count after the fifth trip, but it’s well into double digits. Somewhere along the way, I start questioning whether I really needed that third type of tinned legume.
Chairs, Chickpeas and a Mild Spiritual Awakening
Eventually, the tents are up. The sun is still out. And I am eating a vegan falafel bowl that costs €14.40 and tastes like actual salvation. First beer of the festival in hand. We’ve arrived.
For a long while, we just sit. Battered, slightly dazed, totally content.
Later in the afternoon, I head over to the Welcome to the Jungle Stage for an interview with Joey Belladonna. As an Anthrax fan, this is a big one for me—his voice opened the door to thrash metal for me. A decent crowd’s gathered, but the view is poor and every bit of shade has already been claimed by people more prepared (or more ruthless). Standing in full sun for 30 minutes to hear an interview isn’t ideal. So we wander instead.
I’d studied the maps. Watched countless Wacken clips. I was convinced I could navigate blindfolded. But standing there in the actual space? Completely overwhelming. Everything is so much bigger in person. Bullhead City and the Wackinger area are still closed, but we explore the Wasteland area. Marie is visibly unsettled by the Wasteland Warriors and their Post-Apocalyptic LARP outfits.
Spoiler: this will not last.
Ice Cubes, Merch, and Culinary Excellence
We visit the Farmer’s Market, which is like a strange little haven: bread, olives, antipasti, ice cubes, carrots, beer. You could stock an entire picnic or survive an unexpected apocalypse. The queue for the merch store is already impressively long—people queueing like salvation is inside.
Laden with two bags of ice, we return to the tent for dinner. Tonight’s menu: ravioli, lentil stew, mashed potatoes and pickles. It shouldn’t work, but it does. Jan-Hendrik strings up fairy lights, and together with the soft hum of campsite lanterns, the whole place takes on a weirdly cosy glow.
Monsters, Showers, and the Sweet Smell of Victory
Then it’s time for the Witches & Warlocks to haunt the Residenz Evil. The costumes are spectacular — equal parts creepy and creative. We’re bold enough to ask for selfies, and Marie, quite rightly, declares:
“I haven’t looked so happy in any pictures than today with those monsters.”
Honestly? Same.
We test the showers—warm, clean, functional. A gift. And by 11:30 PM, I’m in my tent, collapsing with a kind of satisfied exhaustion I haven’t felt in years.
Outside, the festival noise rumbles on, but I’m asleep in minutes.
Tomorrow, the official first festival day begins.
And I, for once, feel ready.
