4pm: Hot Toddy Hour
7pm: Fireside Storytelling: Morgan Men Legends
“Heritage Sausage Fest?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Traditional Maine sausage-making demonstration,” Nolan clarifies. “Charlie tapped into a few contacts, pulled big strings, lovingly threatened a few lives. Family recipes, smoking techniques, the whole thing.”
“And the name?”
“Caleb's idea.” Roman doesn't look up from his phone. “We've learned to pick our battles.”
“The internet named our Mountain Daddy Tour,” Caleb points out, zero shame in his voice. “At this point, we're just leaning into the chaos. Sausage Fest istamecompared to what they'd come up with on their own.”
He's not wrong. I've seen the hashtags. #MorganMeat was trending at 3am for different reasons and I wish I could scrub that knowledge from my brain.
And that’s with them never having seen the fifth generation Morgan wielding gray sweatpants.
“Fine. What do you need from me?”
“Documentation,” Roman says. “Wholesome content. Families, kids, the whole vibe. Tara's crew is focusing on the competition stuff, but we need theheartwarming B-roll that doesn't make us look like we're running a thirst trap operation.”
“So basically, save your overeager asses and undo everything you've done for the past twenty-four hours.”
“Exactly.”
I grab my camera bag and head outside, where the main lawn has been transformed into competition central.
Mid forties, not a snowflake in sight, but it’s sunny and people are taking full advantage.
A temporary stage sits at one end, flanked by banners reading “BEST BEARD OF THE MOUNTAIN” in what I'm guessing is Roman's attempt at rustic font. Hay bales line the perimeter, already filling with spectators clutching steaming cups and wearing varying degrees of plaid.
The contestants are something else entirely.
Men of all ages mill around the staging area, stroking their facial hair like prized show dogs. There's a category list posted on the registration table:
COMPETITION CATEGORIES:
The Lumberjack (Full beard, natural)
The Distinguished Gentleman (Groomed/styled)
