The 2025 Norsk Høstfest in Minot is history now, and I feel as if I am too, almost. I’ve often said that I experience Minot as a stop-motion film, altering just a little each frame, as the years go by. What I hadn’t noticed before is that it’s a stop-motion film of my own life, too. I feel a little older, a little slower, with each festival. And this year I felt it especially.

I think (or hope) that my perception was a little skewed this year. I was coming right off a month-and-a-half bout with a stubborn sinus infection. It sapped my strength and kept me sedentary, bad preparation for days of Viking play.

But that doesn’t account for my failure of memory. My shame is extreme – I’ve been going to Høstfest for the better part of 20 years. I’m one of the old hands. Yet I FORGOT that Tuesday is travel day. This year, for some reason, I looked at my calendar, where Wednesday through Saturday were marked off for the festival, and just thought, “I have to leave on Wednesday.” The upshot was that I missed a full day.

I get the feeling I properly belong in a nursing home. Or congress.

The festival went fine. We were once again in the outdoor venue, and it did not rain on us. It was unseasonably warm, though, and the prairie wind (especially on Friday) got pretty vicious. Oddly, the wind seemed to have a psychological effect on customers – the more frantically I was re-tightening stake ropes and repairing tears in my awning, the more buyers flocked in for my books. It was exasperating, but profitable. I tried to be pleasant.

One of my tent poles actually broke. Fortunately, I have a spare.

Sales were very good, for which I’m grateful.

On Friday morning, as I drove in, my car’s engine temperature spiked, right up to the red line. So I got somebody to recommend a local auto shop and took it there, a friend following behind to give me a ride back (I’ve had this adventure before at Høstfest, you may recall). Later that day, I got the bad news – my head gasket is going out. If you know about Subarus, you know that’s a very bad thing. It’s a costly job to fix it, about what my old car is worth.

So I’ll almost certainly have to get a new car. The mechanic thought I could “probably” get her home. I drove below the speed limit all the way, babying the vehicle, and had no problems, though I got in late (and tired).

But last night I slept well, and I feel better right now, physically, than I have in months.

This picture is of me, with a massive drinking horn one of my friends has for sale. (I believe it’s water buffalo horn from India, standing in for the horn of the extinct aurochs, which Vikings would have used.) My friend Dale Nelson, whom I visited on the way home, is writing an article about mead and asked for such a picture – though he did not anticipate my big thinking. Photo credit: Erik Patton.