Innisfail Festival: A Day of Music, Community & Growth

When Di$TINCT reached out with the opportunity to cover the Innisfail Festival, I didn’t even hesitate.

The call came, and in that instant, anything else I had planned in my head for that week was gone. Nothing was officially booked, but the moment he offered me this chance, I knew I had to take it. Opportunities like this don’t come every day, and when they do, you drop everything and run toward them. It meant traveling almost three hours to get there, but that didn’t matter. I saw nothing but potential — a chance to learn, to connect, to prove myself, and to grow. But the closer the day came, the heavier the anxiety hit. I thought about the long drive, the crowd of people I didn’t know, the fact that I was still so new in this community. In my head, it was a storm of what ifs: what if I didn’t belong, what if I messed up, what if everyone could see how nervous I was?

And yet, none of that was enough to stop me.

Because failure?

Failure doesn’t exist in my vocabulary.

Not when it comes to this.

Not when it comes to Comets Crew.

Not when it comes to the promise I made to myself and my daughter.

Every anxious feeling I battle, every handshake, every connection, every conversation — it’s all for her. I refuse to fail, because this is bigger than me. This is for her future, for our future, and that’s the fire that pushes me through every single time.

So I showed up with my camera, my nerves buzzing, my head spinning — but my heart locked in. I wasn’t going to let myself, or her, down.

The first thing that met me at the gates was kindness. Volunteers smiled and welcomed me as if I was already part of their family. The organizer’s husband pulled up in a golf cart and offered me a ride, and it turned out to be so much more than just a lift across the grounds. He was super kind, easy to talk to, and right away he started telling me about the festival and the community.

As we rode along, he gave me what felt like a mini tour — pointing out areas of the grounds, introducing me to spaces I hadn’t noticed yet, and explaining how the festival had grown. He shared the role he and his wife play in the community, the heart they pour into making events like this possible, and what it all means to the people of Innisfail. In just a few minutes, I went from being the “new girl with the camera” to someone who could see the bigger picture of why this event mattered.

Before dropping me off, he even told me that if I ever needed anything during the day, all I had to do was wave him down. That might sound simple, but to me it was huge. It meant I wasn’t out there on my own. I knew I had someone looking out for me, and that gave me a sense of comfort I really needed at that moment.

And I wasn’t alone behind the lens. Another photographer, Kim, was there, and from the start she had my back.

She showed me tips about my gear, chatted about cameras, even handed me a wipe when I needed it most. Those things may sound simple, but they’re not. To me, they were lifelines. She turned what could’ve been an overwhelming day into something collaborative. Instead of competing, we ran beside each other, capturing the same spirit from two perspectives. That’s community. That’s trust.

Then the music hit. DJ DAK-B kicked things off with energy that filled the park. His beats carried confidence, and I couldn’t help but feel like the universe was setting the tone not just for the crowd, but for me. People around me kept checking in, making sure I felt comfortable, making sure I knew I belonged. My anxiety had been heavy, but in that moment, I felt lighter.

What also made a difference was DAK-B himself. He was approachable and kind, letting me get close for shots as long as I respected his space. At times, he even used small hand gestures to show what was okay and what wasn’t. That awareness made my job easier, and his positive energy created an atmosphere that made me want to stay, not just work.

DERAILLEUR came next. I didn’t know what to expect, but that’s the beauty of festivals — you discover something new in real time. Their set was raw, gritty, and full of force. I didn’t have to explain it in words; my photos told the story. For me, that was a turning point — realizing that my lens was powerful enough to capture what I sometimes couldn’t say out loud. But what really stuck with me wasn’t just their performance.

After their set, the band actually offered to buy me lunch. That gesture caught me off guard in the best way. Here I was, the new girl running around with my camera, still trying to prove myself, and these guys — who had just poured their energy out on stage — stopped to make sure I was taken care of. It was such a simple offer, but it spoke volumes about the kind of people they are and about the community I was stepping into. That’s the kind of kindness you don’t forget.

And then came a moment I had been waiting for: Camp Studio. These young men from Alberta are passion in motion. They poured heart and soul into every note, and watching them felt personal. Capturing their set wasn’t just about photos; it was about fulfilling the mission of Comets Crew — to spotlight Canadian talent, to show the world what I see. Mark my words: Camp Studio is on the rise, and Comets Crew is fully behind them every step of the way.

The festival wasn’t just music, though. Wandering off between sets, I found myself at the scarecrow competition. Each scarecrow had its own personality, crafted with so much creativity. I didn’t envy the judges — picking winners would’ve been impossible.

But in the end, choices were made, and the winning scarecrows stood proudly as a reminder of how much heart this community puts into even the smallest details.

Later, I spent time at the volunteer table, talking with the people who made the whole festival possible. We traded stories: them about their commitment to Innisfail, me about why I built Comets Crew. It struck me how similar we were — all of us pouring energy into building community, into making sure people felt seen and supported. I took a photo with them, because they weren’t just part of the festival — they were its heartbeat.

As I wandered toward the kids’ zone, I stumbled on something special: Fitset Ninja. Their obstacle course setup wasn’t just fun — it was raw energy, pure joy, and the kind of vibe that makes you smile just watching. Kids were charging through, climbing, jumping, laughing — parents cheering, organizers guiding, everyone just alive in the moment.

The Fitset Ninja crew moved with intention and kindness. They weren’t just running an attraction — they were feeding into the pulse of the festival. They kept things smooth, the obstacles safe, and the kids thriving. What really struck me was how they interacted with everyone who came by: cheering them on, helping them try again, celebrating even the small wins. Their spirit wasn’t “just work for the day” — you could feel their commitment to making this event inclusive and fun.

They reminded me that festivals are more than performances — they’re spaces where communities grow. Kids get to play, people connect, even someone like me (new, anxious, observing) gets to witness joy and feel included. Fitset Ninja didn’t just run a kids' zone; they added layers of trust, care, and energy — exactly what I needed in a moment when I was still finding my ground.

Back at the stage, Galacticas came roaring in. Their punk rock set was electric — bold, unapologetic, and impossible to ignore. The crowd was hooked from the first chord, and I was hooked too. And yes — leather seemed to be part of their unofficial dress code, which only amplified the vibe.

Offstage, they were the opposite of intimidating — funny, grounded, and approachable. The kind of people you’d want to sit down with after the show, swapping stories and laughs like old friends.

DJ ELEV8 kept the energy alive, throwing down a set that had the park bouncing in unison. I caught a hilarious clip for my Instagram story during his performance, and when he reposted it later, it felt like one of those small, magic connections that only happen when you’re fully in the moment.

And then came the performance that meant everything to me: Di$TINCT with DJ DAK-B, Nate W, and Little Man YEG. This wasn’t just another act on the lineup — this was the reason I was there. Before the show, Di$TINCT gave me a couple quick tips about how he likes his performances captured, and I took that to heart. I pushed myself harder than ever — running from side to side, ducking into the crowd, trying every angle I could. Every photo felt like a promise being kept. This wasn’t just about proving myself to him. It was about proving to myself, and to my daughter, that I could rise to the occasion.

The whole crew fed off each other’s energy — Di$TINCT commanding the stage, DJ DAK-B driving the beats, Nate W adding his own presence on guitar, and Little Man YEG bringing a charisma that pulled the crowd closer with every verse. Even the merch girls brought their own spark, keeping the energy alive off-stage and making sure the crowd left with more than just memories. And just when the audience thought they’d seen it all, they introduced a special guest: Choco Man. His arrival sent a wave of excitement through the crowd, and the set went from powerful to unforgettable in an instant.

What stood out even more than the performance was how Di$TINCT carried himself offstage. He didn’t just hand me an opportunity and walk away — he actually took the time to teach me things. In between moments, he’d point out tips, share his perspective, and guide me in ways that only someone with real experience could. It wasn’t about showing off, it was about lifting me up.

That day, he became more than just the artist who gave me a chance — he became a mentor in the industry, someone I could look up to as an example of how to lead with both confidence and community. Watching him interact with people, seeing the respect he earned, and feeling the support he gave me reminded me what kind of role model I want to be for my own daughter.

The night closed with Jesse Roads, the headliner, and he did not disappoint. From the very first note, his voice carried through the crowd with power and control that only comes from years of passion and practice. The audience hung on every lyric, feeding off his energy, and when his set seemed to be over, nobody was ready to let him leave.

The chants for “one more song” rang out across the park, and Jesse listened. He stayed on stage, giving the crowd an encore that stretched into an extra song or two. By then, I had worked my way right up to the stage, camera still in hand, but my heart fully in the moment. I was cheering just as loud as anyone else — maybe even too loud, because at one point the drummer shot me a look that said, “Come on, lady, I want to go home.” I couldn’t help but laugh, and he cracked a smile as he kept playing.

That moment — laughing with the band while the crowd begged for more — was the perfect ending to the night. It wasn’t just about capturing photos anymore. It was about being part of something bigger than myself, part of a memory that would stay with everyone who was there.

When the music finally ended, I was left with the quiet. Just me, my camera, and my thoughts. I carefully packed away my SD cards, batteries, and gear. Someone offered me a ride back to my vehicle, but I turned it down. I needed that walk — time to let it all sink in, time to breathe and reflect.

I came into this festival anxious, unsure, and determined not to disappoint. I left with gratitude pouring out of me, with memory cards full of proof that I belonged, and with an even stronger belief in why Comets Crew exists. This isn’t just about me. It’s about highlighting Canadian talent. It’s about showing up for community. And at the core, it’s about keeping a promise I made to my daughter: that I will not fail.

So thank you — to Di$TINCT for trusting me with this opportunity, to Cindy B for her support and encouragement, and to Rhamona for the heart she puts into leading this festival and community.

And THANK YOU to every single person who made me feel welcome — the artists, the volunteers, the families, and the entire community that brought this festival to life.

I want you to know that I’m all in on this journey, and if you ever need anything, please reach out. I’m here to grow, to learn, to support, and to show up for my community in every way I can.

Even though I was only there for one day, I’d love to return next year with a team and experience both days of the festival. This feels like just the beginning, and I can’t wait to see how much more we can create together.

The entire day was overflowing with generosity, kindness, and trust — a ten out of ten experience and the best way I could have spent my 27th birthday. Some people might think I was crazy for choosing to “work” on my birthday, but when you love what you do, it doesn’t feel like work at all. It feels like growth. It feels like connection. It feels like building something bigger than yourself. And for me, it truly became one of the best days of my life.

All photos in this article were taken by Hailey Bell and edited by Visions Photos.

EXCEPT SCARECROW PICTURES.