On the feast of Saint Sebastian, nine brave Outlanders ventured into the snowy forests of Caer Galen.  Every drop of water froze and a deep snow covered all, but a roaring fire and warm friendship saw them through the long, cold night.  

The best description I have for this past weekend is authentic.  In planning this trip I had hoped to create a weekend of “medieval moments” for everyone participating but instead found something much more interesting.  I have no moment that I can look to where I was struck by a singular perfect picture, lost in one instance’s distance from everything modern. Rather, everything about the weekend simply felt natural.  

We all put in long hours preparing for this trip, whether that was spent making clothes, skis, or in mental anguish at the thought of shivering through the night.  What came of that preparation was a troupe of northmen and their visiting monk walking down a snowy trail with skins and cloaks lashed to frames on their backs, dragging sleds bearing tents and cooking pots.  We dug a camp out of the snow using wooden shovels, then had our fill of pottage, fresh bread, and meat in the Danish style marinated in “the best sauce that the lords have.” We shared song, story, and drink long into the night, filling the trees with laughter.  We sat as friends have for as long as there have been warm fires and cold, snowy nights. As we slept on piles of fur and blankets, a winter storm buried the tents.

If you gazed long at our camp, you would see the evidence of blatant modernity in a few bits of plastic or glass that came out, the occasional camera or phone capturing a moment, and some of the topics of conversation.  If you looked closer, you would find more, hidden in canvas bags and the modern lines of a sewing machine. However, these never managed to intrude on the spirit of the weekend because all were tucked away as much as possible.  We all bought in on the idea of this shared image and made many efforts, large and small, to protect it from the easy temptation of complacency. That diligence is part of made this venture to feel so genuine.

So it is that I challenge all who love this game: before every event try to improve one piece of conspicuous modernity.  That might be as simple as unloading your car quickly and moving it to parking rather than leaving it while you set up. It might be storing camp goods in a wood box – and then sitting on that box rather than in a modern fold-up chair.  It might be helping the new fighter to sew a surcoat to wear over their plastic armor or painting the plain aluminum back of your shield. From the most inspiring Laurel to the newest member, we all can take small steps closer to the Dream.

In Service,

Sir Iohann