Fall Equinox, Part 3

Well, it took me nearly 10 days to get back and finish talking about this one weekend. But sometimes I need to digest experiences. Ruminate, as it were. The most profound thoughts take a while, and honestly, I'm just not that good at expressing myself. Culmination: I realized I missed talking about the wonderful social experience I had that weekend.

In between the paddling (which was plentiful) we hung around with the various members of different reenactment family groups. Many of these people have known me for the better part of my life. Whether they realize it or not, we have "grown up" together. Largely these groups are involved in Iron Age reenactment. But the family feeling has grown quite extensive and some members hold and attend private weekend events, like this one, without ever attending the larger true reenactments.

As I've been absent for the better part of 7 years from all but a few classic SCA events a year, I have missed the smaller family style events. Between the recent Pennsic, women's crafting days, and camping events, I have reconnected with many of the people from my younger days. It has been a real pleasure for me to find them all again. Quite an experience to see where life has taken them, and how they have changed, knowing that I have grown and changed as well.

I have rarely had such a pleasurable time amongst "my people." It turns out I really CAN go home again. And so I have.

But like Steeleye said, when we sat down to visit one last time after helping him clean up "you came for the water, all these other people just came for the view." Yeah, I came for the water; the river. I can never imagine a future life without her. As much as I would like to move south into a warmer environment, I cannot shake the feeling that I would be unhappy without her.

I just read recently that when people move more than 50 miles from their original home their "happiness quotient" falls by something like 30%. As I grew up an Army brat I don't have, and never did, an original home. So I guess that's what the Potomac is for me, my home. As a water baby, competitive swimmer, and now paddler, water has always been central to my life and none more so than this river. From her North Fork on the South Branch, the backdrop for our new-couple's first get-away to where I find myself today, making plans to paddle with Brian tomorrow, she is the river running through my life.

Forgive my nostalgia, at least a bit.

Seneca Rocks, WV

The North Fork of the South Branch of the Potomac River

Our quiver for the weekend, Coltons Point MD

Me-Crossing the rocks on St Clements Island to go explore (credit Kat Ecott 2013)

My camera was malfunctioning but I did manage this shot of the lighthouse with the 40 foot cross in the background

My friends waiting for me to join them in rescue practice before we packed up for the trip home

Revisiting an Old Stomping Ground

Pretty much the same day I published my last blog entry I finished packing up my reenactment and camping gear and headed out for the Burning Man of American reenactment known as Pennsic.

It has been seven years since my last Pennsic, mainly because it blows to be surrounded by stick fighters when one can't fight themselves. It really causes this deep ache of desire, I'm like the old horse neighing and running around the paddock as the hunting party heads out. I keep thinking 'I can armor up,' and then I'm laying awake all night with tremors and sheets of fire running down my arms. I know I need to let it go. But gods, it hurts in much the same constant way my broken neck does, reminding me my life will never be the same as it was before.

Not to mention the pelvic reconstruction and what effect carrying 25 pounds of armor many days in a row might have on it.

So I threw myself into making nice, practical garb, and painting banners. It's taken the better part of a year to create acceptable, if not strict, garb for reenacting a Nordic persona. I used to cross-dress. As a fighter, wearing man garb made more sense. We call my previous style of garb 'tabard period.' T tunics untrimmed and baggy draws. Some also call that 'Genera-Celt,' which sums the style up well even though myself, I am not a Celt. If the household WiFi wasn't acting up I would give some photographic evidence of my cross-dressing but alas, it is not to be right now. Maybe on a later edit.

When I arrived at Pennsic I was greeted with many ‘Welcome home!'s. It was truly heart warming. It is possible that I had the best Pennsic I have ever had. I certainly got decent sleep inspite of my camp mates hooting and hollering all night, and my days were packed with non-martial activities such as parties and shopping.

So to end this post with a couple of shots from our camp:

The 'ship' our swordbrothers brought from the kinsmen/swordbrothers challenge. My "challenge" was for them to bring me a ship and durned if they didn't!

The Lorax, right after he was voted Warlord for the coming year.

Myself and one of my banners, also the 'horn that got us kicked out of camp.'