As I sit and type this, I’ve come to the conclusion that if you’re fingernails aren’t dirty, you probably aren’t getting the true Electric Forest experience. While the musical acts are a large part of the draw to this 4-day camping extravaganza, the camping itself is the main attraction for many attendees.

While most people will tell you that the forest is the best part of the experience, it’s really the sense of community in the campground that leaves the biggest impression. While the forest can only be described as ethereal, a rainbow-lit playground where lasers refract off discoballs in a dizzying number of directions and festival-goers of all persuasions sit tucked in hammocks, sprawled on elevated couches, or on their backs on the forest floor under art installations, most attendees will spend most of their time in the wide-open fields that have temporarily been turned into a massive campsite.

Here, thousands of people share their campsites, stories, port-a-potties, and occasionally the sounds and smells that made last night regrettable. Though the music ends well before the sun rises, the campsite is never truly asleep, with some raging, some grooving, and others simply chatting and strumming the wee hours away.

As far as who those night owls are, the festival attendees are as varied as their camping setups. On one hand there are the lifer festies’ elaborate campsites, filled with converted school buses, motorcades of VW van popups or massive tarp/sun tent configurations decorated with tapestries. In another camp are the high school raver types, some who simply sleep uncovered on a blanket next to their cars, the only provisions brought for the trip a fist full of glowsticks and an empty camelback. The rest of the campsite holds everything in between, and in the hour it takes to walk through the entire camp, tents of every size and shape, musical tastes of every variety, and attendees in every imaginable state of dress can be found, all miraculously coexisting within sight of each other.

Everyone is dirty, most people are sleep-deprived, and more than a handful start drinking before 9 a.m., but in truth that’s half the beauty of the festival: whether you came here most amped to see The String Cheese Incident or Zed’s Dead, you have something in common with your fellow camper. Most on the campsite are aware of this fact and celebrate it, sharing food, water, or just a few minutes of their time as they hop from campsite to campsite.

So yes, you could spend a good deal more to stay in one of the cabins onsite and enjoy unlimited access to flush toilets and showers, but you’d be missing out on the joys of the sense of community that only emerges after you’ve shared a trashcan to spit out your toothpaste with a complete stranger, been solicited to buy a $3 bloody mary from the couple kitty-corner to your tent, and said goodnight to the party just waking up from a disco nap for their round two. While Electric Forest is nothing without the forest, it also wouldn’t be what it is without the campsite. Embrace the dirt and the rest will follow.