This is the statue of Leif Eriksson outside the Minnesota state capitol. It is a very bad statue. That thing in his right hand? It’s supposed to be a ship’s tiller. It looks nothing like a ship’s tiller.

In the complete absence of clever ideas for blog posts tonight, I think I’ll break with my personal tradition and actually announce something I’ll be doing ahead of time. Next weekend (Oct. 12-14), I and my Viking henchmen plan to be in Norway, Michigan for the Leif Erikson Festival. The opening ceremonies Friday evening, we are reliably informed, will include a Viking funeral, complete with the launch of a burning “ship” onto a lake. (Apparently they’ve gotten permission from the natural resources people to do this.) So far they have not asked for volunteers to ride the ship, and I’m definitely keeping my hands in my pockets.

The image of a Viking funeral ship sailing out to sea in flames is super-glued to the public imagination, thanks to movies like “The Vikings” and “S.O.B.” (“Beau Geste,” I should note, got it right, keeping the pyre on land.) In fact, the only scenes of such funerals we find in Norse sources come (as far as I’m aware) from the Eddas, where it happens among the gods in Asgard, and in a legendary story from the early chapters of the Ynglingasaga in Heimskringla—purely folklore, days-long-gone stuff. Never in the historical sagas is anyone sent off that way, nor do we have a description of such a thing from eyewitnesses. Ibn Fadlan (on whose writings Michael Crichton’s Eaters of the Dead, the source of the movie “The Thirteenth Warrior,” is based), describes the Russ in Russia burning a chieftain in his ship on land, something which comports with archaeological evidence. At other times and in other places, people were simply inhumed in ships or boats, providing wonderful opportunities for later archaeologists, the most spectacular being the Oseberg and Gokstad ship graves in Norway.

Of course, if anybody ever did send a ship out to sea in flames, it would be unlikely to be found by archaeologists. So we can’t prove it didn’t happen. All I can say is that most scholars consider it fairly improbable.

Let’s face it—a burning sail isn’t likely to take a ship very far. And a ship without a living man at the helm will probably go somewhere you don’t want it to go.

If you’d like any further cherished illusions shattered, I’m your go-to guy.

OK, as promised (I think) here are some photos from our Viking encampment at the Norsk Høstfest in Minot, ND, this past Wednesday through Saturday. You’ll note that they closely resemble my pictures from previous years, except for the addition of some younger, better looking people.

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This is the fight staging and picture-taking area. It’s next to the “sandbox” where we fight, and it’s also where we keep costumes for people who want their pictures taken as Vikings. Such people, we find, are not necessarily Scandinavian, or even Caucasian.

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Here’s the newlywed couple I mentioned before, Phil and Kelsey. Kelsey is a bona fide expert on Viking costume, and if you want one you can order it from her online business, Spindle, Shuttle, & Needle. Continue reading Hostfest 2012, Report 5 (Photo edition) →

Saturday, the final round. There will be no further on-site reports from me, as my ride leaves at oh-dark-bloody-early tomorrow morning.

Another good day for the Vikings yesterday, especially in terms of fighting. I found, to my amazement, that I won most of my fights against much younger, faster opponents. I can only conclude (and Ragnar concurs) that all these years of slogging it out, one on one, with a very good sword fighter have borne fruit in a little actual skill.

I don’t expect it to last. The young fighters will learn quickly, and they’ll learn my weaknesses faster than anything else. I think I can see it happening even now.

My most interesting fight was against a young fellow (coincidentally the Bridegroom I mentioned yesterday) who prefers to fight with a short axe. In that fight I actually succeeded–though not on purpose–in performing a move I’ve often aspired to. That is, catching my opponent’s blade in my shield, and then pulling it out of his hand. In this case he got his axe stuck so firmly in my shield that we had a tug of war over who would get both axe and shield, as they were clearly going to stay together. I got it away, and then he grappled me, so I had a little trouble to finally dispatch him with my short saex.

As for the festival as a whole, today will probably determine how successful it is. Traditionally, Høstfest has had two major sources of visitors–the thousands of RVers who drive in and camp for the week, and package tours that bring people in in buses and put them up at local motels. As I told you before, most of the motels are now booked full with oil drillers, and those that aren’t full have hiked their prices drastically. So, according to the scuttlebutt among the entertainers, about 30 tour companies canceled their visits. Crowds have been less than I had expected.

However, today is the day the air base people and the oil workers will be free to visit, so we’re likely to see a surge.

I’ll tell how that works out Monday.

This is shaping up to be the most fun Hostfest I (at least) have ever experienced. We have two young couples in our group this year, one of them newlyweds, and a family with teenage boys. This livens up everything. The combats have been a hoot. Instead of just two old geezers slogging around in the sand, gutting it out for three or four fights, the kids can’t get enough, and like to extend the shows. My own success against them, remarkably, has been pretty good.

The high point of yesterday’s fights was when I “killed” the new bridegroom, raised my sword, and shouted, “SHE’S MINE!”

Also when our biggest fighter and one of our smallest fighters were rolling around trying to kill each other with their backup weapons. It looked like a bear trying to shake off a terrier.

Oh, the delights you’re missing, not being here with us.

Had a conversation in Norwegian yesterday with a gentleman from Bergen, who couldn’t get over how wonderful America was. He went to a bank to change money, he said, and the teller told him he’d have to go to Wells Fargo Bank. Then she accompanied him down the street, to make sure he found the right place.

And it’s the second day of Norsk Høstfest in Minot. Gradually our members are straggling into town. The great delight this year is that we have a number of young members who’ve never been here before. No longer is the Viking camp a geriatric retreat. We have youth! Pretty girls! People to fight and carry stuff from here to there, so us oldsters can take a nap!

Heard the New Christy Minstrels yesterday. Of the 1960s group, only founder Randy Sparks is there. Otherwise it’s a group of professional entertainers, most of them pretty old (he says one of them auditioned for him in 1960, and finally got the gig a couple years ago). Nice to hear “Green, Green” again, anyway.

Won a few fights, lost a few fights. I got a sword swipe in the face yesterday, but took no serious damage.

Here I am, back at the old stand at Norsk Høstfest in Minot, ND. I got here on Monday, having ridden with another Viking rather than driving myself, this time. So far it’s been pretty low pressure. We’ve given ourselves lots of time for things. That will doubtless change in a few minutes, when the crowds start showing up for the first day.

Oh, by the way, I had a hot beef sandwich at Kroll’s Diner in Minot which far surpassed any I’ve ever before tasted, or dreamed of. This has been an unsolicited testimonial.

It will be interesting to see how how changes in the town make changes in the festival. Minot as we know it has always been a nice, small midwestern city with an air base, remote from the rest of the world. Then last year, after the flooding, it was a recovering disaster area, stubbornly refusing to lose heart.

This year it’s a boom town. The actual boom is centered around 120 miles west, around Williston. But the economic waves have spread to Minot now. At least a half a dozen (that’s what we’ve counted; doubtless there are more) motels are going up around town, and even before they’re opened they’re being leased by the drilling companies for their employees, who will live in the rooms and commute all the way to Williston to work. They’re making so much money, that’s actually economical to do.

Tough on some of the locals, though. Not only because the street traffic’s gone insane, but because prices have skyrocketed, and that puts economic pressure on anyone who’s not in the oil business.

On the plus side, the weather’s beautiful. And aside from the Oak Ridge Boys (as usual), we’ll have the New Christy Minstrels (who are pretty old now) singing at the stage around the corner this year. As someone who actually enjoyed the music in “A Mighty Wind,” that’s good news for me.

More as the situation develops.