Rocking Hard & Sweating Harder at the 2026 Yacht Club Music Festival

 

Rocking Hard & Sweating Harder 

at the 2026 Yacht Club Music Festival

Todd Swank's Diary Update for July 19, 2026

Monday night started the week with an adventure alongside some of the Oracle Minneapolis team and our friends at Apps Associates: an Al & Alma’s dinner cruise on Lake Minnetonka. I hadn’t been on one of their boats in probably 25 years, certainly not since the Vikings made them famous with the Love Boat scandal. Our trip was much more respectable, unless something happened after I went home that nobody has had the courage to tell me about.

Thursday night we were supposed to take Sue and Ron Korkowski for a boat ride, but we woke up under a thick blanket of smoke from the Canadian and Minnesota wildfires and briefly had some of the worst air on the planet. Naturally, it cleared up by the time we would’ve launched, but we’d already bailed and redirected to P.F. Chang’s in Maple Grove. Nothing says fearless outdoor adventure like gourmet Chinese in air conditioning.

Friday brought Miss Sheri and me to our second music festival in less than a week: the Minnesota Yacht Club Festival on Harriet Island in St. Paul. We probably wouldn’t have bought tickets had we known temperatures would hit the 90s with a heat index over 100. My concert hair hats usually turn my head into a tiny convection oven in normal temperatures, so this one had my skull baking like a Costco rotisserie chicken.

Despite the fancy name, Minnesota Yacht Club has very little to do with yachts and a whole lot to do with bringing arena-sized rock shows to Harriet Island. Launched in 2024 by C3 Presents, the team behind Lollapalooza, it expanded from two days to three after its first year. By 2026, its third summer, it featured 30 artists on two stages with no overlapping sets and about 35,000 people expected each night along the Mississippi River. Not bad for a club that never asked to see my boat.

We went with our good friends Joel and Jen, whom we hadn’t seen since their wedding in Destin, Florida. They’d attended Yacht Club the past couple of years, and after seeing their Facebook photos, Miss Sheri and I decided they were having entirely too much fun without us. So this year we crashed their party, because friendship is mostly about letting someone else discover the fun and then inviting yourself along.

We planted ourselves in the middle of the park so we could see both stages, although one definitely won the battle for better sound and sightlines. I didn’t recognize most of the bands or songs, so it felt like a full day of waiting for everyone’s one big hit. Then Marcy Playground played “Sex and Candy,” and I finally started grooving. At my age, that’s less a lifestyle than two separate things I’ve been forced to cut back on.

We lasted about five hours before the heat finally beat us and we bailed before the Lumineers. I was genuinely disappointed I didn’t get to yell “Ho! Hey!” with 30,000 sweaty strangers, but that regret disappeared the second we reached the car and the air conditioning hit us. Turns out my favorite headliner was a Kia Telluride set to 68 degrees.

Saturday night I took Miss Sheri downtown Minneapolis to the Orpheum for something wicked. Unfortunately for her, I meant the musical. Neither of us had seen the stage version before, although we’d both seen the movies, so I was ready for a little Glinda vs. Elphaba action. Nothing spices up date night like witches, betrayal, flying monkeys, and a couple thousand people silently judging which witch deserves the better song.

Once the curtain went up, it was easy to see how Wicked has attracted more than 70 million people, earned over $6 billion, and collected 100-plus awards across 16 countries. That isn’t a musical résumé; it’s a hostile takeover of theater. Between the massive sets, costumes, flying monkeys and powerhouse witches, the hype suddenly made perfect sense. Wicked really was wicked.

Quite honestly, I really liked it. Like most musicals, I would’ve preferred a little less singing and a little more dialogue, but the story was excellent. I grew up fascinated by The Wizard of Oz, and Wicked fits beautifully alongside it while giving everyone’s motives a clever new spin. Highly recommended for anyone who, like me, has a 14-year-old girl trapped inside just waiting to be inspired.

@toddswank 20 minutes until I get to see Wicked for the first time! #wicked #theater #emeraldcity ♬ original sound - Todd Swank

Rocking Like the ’80s Still Rule at the 2026 Lakefront Music Fest

 

Rocking Like the ’80s Still Rule at the 2026 Lakefront Music Fest

Todd Swank's Diary Entry for July 12, 2026

Our summer has been packed, and somehow even our nights off turn social. While wandering Costco, we ran into Randy and Cindy Schoen, who lived near my sister about 20 years ago. We’d lost touch, but they’re the kind of people who make it feel like no time has passed. A few minutes catching up in the spice aisle turned into one of those unexpected little reminders that good people never really feel far away.

It was Avery’s turn for a Mayo Clinic checkup. He only has to go every two or three years, but it’s always great seeing Dr. Johnson, the boys’ cardiologist and someone we’ve come to know well over the past decade. Avery’s checkup went well and he doesn't need to come back soon.  That’s exactly the kind of visit we like: catch up with a good man and say, “See you in a few years.”

Our rocking week of the ’80s started Wednesday night at Rhythm on the Rails in downtown Shakopee, a free summer concert series with live music, food, drinks, games, and a street full of people enjoying the night. Def Leggend brought the Def Leppard hits, and for a few hours Lewis Street felt less like Shakopee and more like 1987 with better beer options.

Tom and Kellie Wolf are usually our Rhythm on the Rails partners. We share the same taste in classic rock and the same desire to sit off to the side so the speakers don’t finish off whatever hearing we have left. We always have a great time together, even if getting Tom to actually look at the camera remains one of Shakopee’s tougher summer challenges.

Thursday night, the Browns and Zitzewitzes joined us for a three-hour tour on the boat. Unlike Gilligan, we made it back before three hours turned into a syndicated television series. I also prefer being off the lake before sunset because I’m not entirely sure the boat lights still work. I could check them, of course, but that sounds suspiciously like effort.

The highlight of the week was Rock Night at Prior Lake’s Lakefront Music Fest. The weekend brings in some huge names, but we stick to Friday because country music has never really been our thing. We used to fight our way to the front of the stage, but now they charge extra for the pit and our ears have filed enough formal complaints for one lifetime.

We love running into old friends at Lakefront Music Fest, including Jimi Gilbertson and his sister Trish. Jimi is a big shot with the Prior Lake Rotary Club and gets to guard the VIP section, where $320 buys you perks like shade. That sounded excessive until 95-degree heat and direct sunlight spent several hours turning my forehead into a solar panel. One of these years, I may finally invest.

I think the last time we saw Lisa Maldonado was at this same concert last year. She’s one of those genuinely sweet people who always asks about the boys and makes you feel like no time has passed. She also gave Miss Sheri about five hugs while I got one, which felt a little uneven, but apparently Sheri had the premium friendship package.

Ted and Marcia found us in the crowd and settled in for the show. We occasionally wandered closer to the stage, partly for the music and partly because standing in a packed crowd was somehow our best available shade. Whenever we returned to our chairs, we enjoyed catching up with them, which made the night even better.

Jefferson Starship opened the night by taking us through their own musical family tree, from Jefferson Airplane to Jefferson Starship to Starship. They closed with “We Built This City,” but “White Rabbit” was the song I was waiting for. More than 50 years later, it’s still wonderfully psychedelic and remains one of my all-time favorites.

George Thorogood was next, and “I Drink Alone” has long been one of my favorite karaoke songs because his raspy growl is about as close as my voice gets to a natural fit. I can’t really sing, but I can fake irritated confidence pretty well. It’s the rare song where throat damage actually improves the performance.

Billy Idol closed the night, and for a while it felt like high school had come roaring back, only now everyone had reading glasses and sore knees. He tore through hit after hit, and I kept thinking about how perfectly he played himself in The Wedding Singer, still one of my favorite movie cameos. We left early and missed “Rebel Yell” and “White Wedding,” but beating that massive crowd on the mile walk back to the car and getting home to my bed was absolutely worth sacrificing a little rock-and-roll history.

@toddswank The only thing I look forward to about fall. 😂🦟 #Mosquitoes #Comedy #Relatable ♬ SILENT PATROL - AYUMI Hollow

250 Years Later, Still Chasing Life, Liberty, and Lake Time

 

250 Years Later, Still Chasing Life, Liberty, and Lake Time

Todd Swank's Diary Entry for July 5, 2026

We kicked off a full week of celebrating 250 years of freedom at Midwest Ribfest at Mystic Lake Casino, headlined by the man still making us wonder why Jessie had to be so selfish with his girl. Rick Springfield shocked the crowd by announcing he was 76, then proceeded to look and perform like he had found a backstage loophole in the aging process. Classic songs, loud guitars, and smoked meat. Not a bad way to start America’s birthday week!

Even better than the concert was randomly bumping into our old friends Joe and Jill Fischer. We caught up, laughed, and rocked out while Rick Springfield ripped through classics like “I’ve Done Everything for You” and “Don’t Talk to Strangers,” which is solid advice unless the strangers turn out to be old friends.

On Friday, Tracy and Dave came to town for the holiday weekend. Dave is known for hilarious T-shirts, and this one got plenty of attention at the Prior Lake Farmers Market. A few people looked shocked, like wiener jokes don’t belong between sweet corn and cucumbers. Please. This is America.

After picking Tracy and Dave up at the airport, we headed over to Luke’s new house so they could see it for the first time. They gave it the official family approval tour, which mostly means walking around, saying “this is really nice,” and pretending we all suddenly know things about countertops.

From there we headed to Avery and Abby’s, where they were kind enough to serve us an amazing lunch. Avery grilled up some terrific burgers while Abby supplied all the great sides. I’m assuming Avery learned those grill skills in college or on YouTube, because there is no evidence that kind of knowledge came from my genetic line.

We spent the afternoon cruising Prior Lake on my boat, despite a forecast that had been threatening rain all weekend like it was trying to ruin our plans personally. Instead, the weather turned gorgeous. Sometimes luck is just the universe briefly forgetting to mess with you.

Friday night we ate at our favorite restaurant on Prior Lake, Charlie’s on Prior. To be fair, it’s also the only restaurant on Prior Lake, but that just means they’ve really nailed their market share. Good food, great view, and the kind of place that makes you feel like summer is doing its job.

Dave asked the waitress what was popular, and I immediately told him he couldn’t visit Minnesota without trying the walleye. This was bold advice from a man who may have never actually ordered it himself. Dave said he liked it, but I spent the rest of the meal wondering if I had just committed a small act of culinary fraud.

After dinner at Charlie’s, I thought it would be fun to make 9:00 reservations at the Boardwalk in Shakopee so we could sit and watch Canterbury’s fireworks. Great plan, until we got there and I immediately felt guilty for our waitress since we weren’t ordering full meals. I panic-ordered a couple desserts nobody really ate because everyone was still full. The fireworks were amazing though, so I still think we made the right call.

We celebrated the 4th the best way possible: a full day on Prior Lake swimming, boating, and watching the annual boat parade. We had planned to end the night with fireworks at Mystic Lake, but the rain we had dodged all weekend finally found us and the show was canceled. After 250 years of freedom, Mother Nature still apparently has veto power.

On Sunday, we spent time with Grandma Linda, starting with brunch at Ze’s Diner. After a weekend of boats, fireworks, and patriotic chaos, this was the part that actually mattered: three generations around a table, laughing, telling stories, and proving that freedom is pretty great when nobody has to cook. Two hundred fifty years in, freedom still tastes better with bacon.

@toddswank LeBron to the Timberwolves would be a perfect fit! #lebron #nba #minnesota #timberwolves ♬ Dramatic Tension - Litne

The One Where the Swanks Took on Olympic National Park

 

The One Where the Swanks Took on Olympic National Park

Todd Swank's Diary Entry for June 28, 2026

Our family vacation started at the northern edge of Washington, exploring Olympic National Park, tucked into the most northwestern corner of the contiguous United States. We kicked things off at Hurricane Ridge, where the views were incredible, the family looked great, and I immediately began calculating how many scenic overlooks a middle-aged man can survive before requesting a chairlift. It was the perfect start to six days of mountains, ocean, rain forests, waterfalls, and me pretending I was physically prepared for any of it.

I’m thankful the boys still join us for these adventures, because there’s something pretty special about standing together on Hurricane Ridge with Olympic National Park behind us and the Strait of Juan de Fuca stretching out in the distance. Normally on a Monday I’m sitting at my desk staring at an unreasonable number of computer screens, pretending that’s a healthy way to experience the world. This was better. Mountains, ocean, sunshine, and family all in one place. Not a bad upgrade from spreadsheets, status updates, and whatever fresh nonsense was waiting in my inbox.

There was a lot more hiking on this vacation than I expected. Somehow “family trip to a national park” quietly turned into “four to five miles a day, enjoy your new lifestyle.” I struggled with it more than I wanted to admit, but Luke was absolutely built for it. He and Miss Sheri even climbed all the way to the top of Sunset Point while I made a strong early campaign, assessed my aging infrastructure, and wisely withdrew before the summit. It’s tough getting old, but it’s pretty awesome watching your kids pass you like you’re standing still.

While trying to catch up with Luke and Sheri, I stopped on the trail to rest when three deer suddenly walked right up near me. They didn’t seem scared at all, probably because in a national park humans are less “predator” and more “slow-moving camera holders.” I stood there snapping pictures while they calmly passed by, pretending it was a spiritual moment and not just proof I had finally moved slow enough for wildlife to trust me.

We also spotted this large marmot not far off the path, basically looking like a fat beaver who had retired from dam work and moved into mountain real estate. He seemed just as curious about us as we were about him, although he never stopped eating grass long enough to make it feel personal. He’d look up, chew, judge us briefly, then go right back to lunch. Honestly, I respect that kind of focus.

We had another great deer encounter on the drive up the mountain when this mama and her baby were hanging out on the side of the road. You’d think with an entire national park available, they could find a safer place than “next to moving vehicles,” but apparently they also understand tourism. We were just glad they made themselves available for our viewing pleasure before returning to their busy schedule of being adorable and wildly unconcerned.

Mountains in the morning, ocean in the afternoon. That’s a pretty solid day. We went whale watching on the Strait of Juan de Fuca expecting orcas, but the humpbacks apparently didn’t get that memo. For four hours they were popping up in every direction like the world’s largest game of Whack-a-Mole. Our naturalist said she counted at least 35 different whales, although a few of them were clearly attention whales who just kept coming back for more stage time. It was an absolutely whale of a day.

Day two brought us to Lake Crescent, a glacier-carved lake with water so blue and clear it almost looks fake. The blue is ridiculous because the lake has very few nutrients, which means not much algae grows in it, so the water stays crazy clear. It’s more than 600 feet deep, which is comforting if you enjoy standing near beautiful things that could easily hide a submarine. Lake Crescent is also home to its own unique trout, because apparently even the fish here needed to be more interesting than the rest of us. The whole place feels calm, clean, and slightly unfair to every other lake trying to compete.

Olympic National Park is pretty isolated, which is beautiful right up until you realize nature has not installed enough businesses to service our every whim. Thankfully, we found a nice resort on Lake Crescent that was happy to let us wander around and enjoy the amenities like civilized people pretending we belonged there. We were tempted to rent kayaks, but ultimately decided against it, which I fully supported. My legs had already filed a formal complaint for the week, and I didn’t need to start lying to myself that my arms were ready to become above-average employees.

After enjoying Lake Crescent, we had seen enough water just sitting there, so we went looking for some water with ambition. That led us to the hike toward Marymere Falls, because nothing says vacation like leaving a perfectly beautiful lake to go watch part of it throw itself down a mountain. The trail was gorgeous, winding through giant trees, mossy rocks, little bridges, and the kind of forest that makes you understand why people suddenly start using words like “peaceful” without irony.

Marymere Falls is one of the most popular hikes near Lake Crescent, mostly because it’s less than a mile each way and leads through old-growth forest to a 90-foot waterfall. The trail crosses Barnes Creek and Falls Creek before the final climb, which is where the brochure’s definition of “easy” and my definition of “why are we still going up?” had a brief disagreement. I’ll admit, I was a little underwhelmed at first and mildly annoyed that the waterfall made me climb a steep incline to earn the view. But I do like falling water, and once we got there, it was hard to stay mad at a mountain for doing something pretty.

After lunch we decided the only logical next step was to go find another waterfall, because that’s what brothers do. Some families throw a football around. Ours apparently hikes into the forest to admire water with commitment.

Sol Duc Falls was one of the cooler stops in Olympic National Park. The trail winds through old-growth forest before the water drops about 50 feet into a narrow canyon, which is beautiful in the way nature gets when it wants to impress you and remind you it can still win. I watched several people climb way too close to the edge, which made me nervous and sent my brain into the healthy vacation question of, “How often do people actually go over?” Then I remembered I was on a family vacation and probably shouldn’t spend too much time mentally producing a National Park disaster documentary. Great waterfall, though.

On day three, we got up early and made the drive to the Hoh Rain Forest, which is basically what happens when trees stop trimming their moss and fully commit to the lifestyle. The whole place feels prehistoric, magical, and just damp enough that you understand why the Twilight vampires were always brooding nearby. We had been tipped off to arrive early, so for once we listened to vacation advice instead of assuming we knew better. Smart move. When we left, there was a huge line of cars waiting to get in, which gave us that rare and beautiful feeling of being the people who planned correctly.

I did the Hall of Mosses Trail, but skipped the Spruce Trail because apparently my body has very strong opinions about how many enchanted forest walks should happen in one day. I do regret missing this giant tree stump, because it looks incredible and exactly like the kind of thing I would have pretended to fully understand while taking 47 pictures of it. But while they were out discovering ancient forest magic, I was back at the visitor center enjoying a bench, which honestly had a lot going for it. It was sturdy, quiet, and most importantly, not another trail.

The boys are lucky they have at least one parent who can keep up with them. Miss Sheri has always been pretty rugged, the kind of person you’d want nearby if you got lost in a rain forest. She’d stay calm, find the trail, ration the snacks, and somehow make it feel like a team-building exercise. I, on the other hand, would be waving down the first bear I saw like, “Good news, I’m slow and emotionally ready.

When we got back to the Sol Duc Falls parking lot, we ran into this Steller’s jay hanging around like he owned the place. I thought he looked beautiful, so naturally I chased him around with my camera like a completely normal adult man who had already spent the day photographing water, trees, and suspiciously confident wildlife. He finally gave me a decent pose, probably out of pity. Not a bad way to end a waterfall hike.

After the rain forest, we drove to Ruby Beach to see the sea stacks and tide pools. We even planned around low tide, because apparently we are now the kind of people who coordinate vacation activities with the moon. The sea stacks were incredible, and we did our best climbing around the rocks to find whatever tide pools we could reach without needing a rescue team. It was a very cool place to explore, although calling it a “beach” in June felt a little generous. In my mind, beaches come with sunshine, warmth, and a strong chance of complaining about sand. Ruby Beach came with sweatshirts, ocean wind, and the Pacific Northwest reminding us not to get too comfortable.

Ruby Beach looks less like a normal beach and more like a lumberyard lost a fight with the Pacific Ocean. All that driftwood gets carried down from the forests by rivers, then the tides and storms shove it back on shore in giant piles like the ocean is redecorating. It gives the whole place this wild, rugged feel you don’t get at beaches where the biggest hazard is someone’s Bluetooth speaker. It’s beautiful, a little chaotic, and a good reminder that when the ocean is done with a tree, it just throws it on shore like, “You deal with this.”

Miss Sheri asked me to pose for a classic “Shortarmguy Shot” on the beach, because apparently every scenic location needs at least one photo of me throwing my arms in the air like I just discovered tourism. I was thrilled when Abby suddenly jumped into the shot with me. She’s been a Swank for less than a year, but moments like this make me think she’s really starting to fit in with the family. Either that, or she’s already learned that when we embarrass ourselves, we prefer to do it together.

On Thursday we took the ferry from Port Angeles to Victoria, British Columbia, which gave us the exciting chance to use our passports and briefly feel like international travelers. There’s something fun about crossing water into another country, even if my dreams of struggling through a foreign language were immediately crushed when everyone spoke English. Still, Victoria was beautiful, the harbor was impressive, and for a few hours we got to pretend we were much more worldly than we actually are.

We stopped for lunch at The Flying Otter on the harbor, because when you’re visiting Canada near the water, fish and chips feels less like a choice and more like a civic duty. The food was good, the view was better, and the whole place had that nice vacation-lunch feeling where nobody is in a hurry and everyone pretends fried food is part of the cultural experience.

On our way out of town, we stopped at Olympic Game Farm in Sequim, which turned out to be way more fun than expected. Llamas, elk, zebras, bears, and other critters came right up to the car, and several grizzlies were separated from us by what felt like a couple of very optimistic fences. They sold special animal bread for $5 a loaf, so naturally we started with two and ended up going through six, because apparently our family’s wildlife strategy is handing carbs to anything with hooves and hoping the bears respect boundaries.

The employee told us nothing would bite, which was comforting right up until a buffalo shoved half his head through the window like he had a dinner reservation in our car. They were powerful, pushy, and completely shameless about using those giant tongues to retrieve every last piece of bread. I’m not saying things got inappropriate, but after feeding one of these guys, I felt I needed a cigarette and a quiet moment to myself.

@toddswank Olympic Game Farm in Sequim, Washington lets you feed bread to grizzly bears! #bears #grizzlies #brownbear #sequim ♬ original sound - Martin dutch

@toddswank Incredible experience in Port Angeles, Washington watching humpback whales! #humpback #whales #portangeles #pugetsound ♬ Imperial Orchestra Pirates of the Caribbean - Imperial Orchestra

@toddswank Whale watching on the Puget Sound Express in Port Angeles, Washington gave us this incredible experience! #humpback #whale #portangeles ♬ original sound - Todd Swank

@toddswank Grandma Linda heard this song and, completely out of the blue, announced, “I want you to play this at my funeral.” 😳 Nothing like casually dropping your final playlist request in the middle of the afternoon. Guess I better write it down before she changes it to something by Pitbull. #whatsup #grandma #funeralsong ♬ original sound - Todd Swank