For many years I’ve been a little disappointed with Norwegians in Norway, because their “traditional” Easter observance in contemporary times has nothing to do with church, but rather involves taking a last ski trip to the mountains, and reading mystery novels.

This year I went away for Easter myself, on a strictly non-religious errand, so I stand self-condemned. I think if I’d realized the Return of the Sun event in Missouri was Easter weekend, I wouldn’t have done it. But I didn’t catch the subtle signs, like words on a calendar. And once I promised I’d go, I figured I’d better follow through.

On top of that, I really wanted to film some footage in an authentic setting for my book trailer. So I sacrificed Easter both to my Viking avocation and to my business concerns. Which makes me a hypocrite. I think there’s a lesson there.

I now know what Vikings smelled like. They smelled like smoke. Spend any amount of time in a building heated by an open hearth, and your clothes will be permeated with smoke. I don’t object to this. It’s actually rather pleasant (I’ve smelled a whole lot worse in my time). It’s just a point of information, based on experience.

It’s a long drive to northeastern Missouri from Minneapolis, but Mrs. Hermanson made it in good form, even getting pretty reasonable gas mileage, considering all my baggage. Her newly restored four wheel drive came in handy in rural Missouri, where it’s been raining a lot. Although I lived in Missouri for a year long ago, I’d forgotten the particular slippery quality of that state’s clay-based topsoil.

Ravensborg, “Viking Sam” Shoults’ as yet unfinished Viking fort, is located near Knox City, Missouri. The web site is here. And here’s a Picasso album of photos of the weekend. You’ll see me in picture number five, along with Sam’s son John.

There was (slippery) fighting on Saturday, but I didn’t participate, as I’m a little shy about fighting when my own people aren’t involved. I used up my limited courage in asking a fellow to play Erling Skjalgsson in a couple scenes I shot. I’m pleased with the results.

However, I’m afraid my trailer won’t be finished soon. I need some good combat footage, and I wasn’t able to get that this weekend—not because good combat didn’t happen, but because the battery in my new used camera is apparently a little old, and didn’t hold a charge as long as the digital read-out said it should. I had to send John up to the farm house to recharge it for me, and that wasn’t done until the fighting was over. But the evening light was excellent for another particular shot I wanted, so I figure it evened out. I’ll try to film some combat at the Tivoli Fest in Elk Horn, Iowa, at the end of the month.

I envied the professional filmmaker who was there filming the event for a documentary he’s doing on reenacting in America and Europe. He had a connector that let him re-charge his camera off his car battery.

Until I had to jump his car for him. (“I’m from Minnesota,” I told him. “We all have jumper cables.”)

I think there’s a lesson there.

Did I have a good time? It depends on what you mean by a good time. I went down not for partying, nor for socialization (what’s that?), but to have the Viking Experience. I told Sam, “I’ve been waiting for fifty years to do this.” I could have taken an air mattress and sleeping bag to sack out on, but my prime directive was to do it like a Viking as much as possible, which means I took a couple sheepskins as a cushion when I slept on the bench. I figured a couple wool blankets would be plenty for Missouri in April. I was wrong about that. I could have used at least one more. So I didn’t get much sleep, and the nights were kind of miserable. But that was the point! I never expected doing it like a Viking to be comfortable.

I got what I wanted, which was a closer understanding of what Viking life was like. Little things like the way the rafters over the hearth turn black with smoke, or how—when you sleep on the same bench where you sit to eat—you tend to get any food people dropped in your bedding. And probably other things I haven’t sorted out yet, but which will come back to me when I’m writing my next Viking hall scene, at least in subtle ways.

So I’m glad I did it.

I wish it hadn’t been Easter, though. I spent my holiday surrounded by heathens (if anyone wasn’t a heathen, I didn’t hear about it). Nobody said anything the least bit insulting to me. Everyone was as polite and friendly as you could ask for. Probably more polite and friendly than I deserved.

As I was leaving, some of the guys were making jokes about Christianity and the holiday. That irritated me.

However, a few minutes later, one of those same guys helped me get my car open, after I’d locked my keys inside.

I think there’s a lesson there.

Or not.