There was no shortage of unusual goings-on at the Penticton Scottish Festival Saturday at King's Park.
Some people threw boulders. Others threw telephone poles. Still others blew into shapeless sacks that looked like the love child of an octopus and a vacuum cleaner. There were even a few who stabbed bundles of straw with a pitchfork and then tossed the bundle backwards over a pole-vaulter bar. It was lunacy!
Except it wasn't. These are serious, competitive practices that originated hundreds of years ago. And all of it is part of the throwback Scottish Olympics known as the Highland Games.
The first was a "stone put," a precursor to the modern shot put. The second was a "caber toss," a circa-1500 test of brawn. The third involved that most unique of musical instruments, the bagpipe, and the fourth is a traditional Scottish agricultural event called the "sheaf toss."
Do you see this sort of stuff every day? No. And that's one of the big reasons the Scottish Festival is so cool.
There was also Highland Dancing, a "Celtic Kids Corner," and a dog agility course. Later, there was beer consumption and the musical stylings of Victoria-based Celtic folk band Knacker's Yard.
The event was big enough to commandeer four soccer pitches. And the crowd was big enough — in excess of 2,500, according to the best estimate of Penticton Scottish Festival Society president Wayne McDougall — that guests arriving midday were forced to park several blocks away.
Later, McDougall was justifiably feeling pretty happy about the whole thing. "We had nine pipe bands this year, the most we've ever had, including bands from Vancouver and Edmonton, as well as our two local pipe bands, the Okanagan Youth Pipe Band and the Vale United Pipe Band. They both placed well in the competition."
"And we had a huge crowd in spite of weather threats (thunderstorms were in the forecast). It's a Highland Games plus a festival that's community based. It's very youth oriented. There were lots of kids and families. I think it's a winning formula we've found."
But McDougall was happiest with the two local pipe bands. "This is a real growth opportunity for them," he said. "They just got together a year ago on the basic elements of piping and drumming, and now they're at a level where they can compete. So it's really exciting for them."
Amongst the unusual displays of prowess Saturday afternoon, arguably none was quite as unusual as that of the "Society for Creative Anachronism."
We spoke with the various members of the Society later and found them to be well-spoken, intelligent folk. One was a social worker. Another a nurse. And still another a ticketed tradesperson.
Yet three times over the course of the afternoon, these seemingly level-headed people donned fifty-plus pounds worth of armour and protective gear and battled one another, medieval style, with weapons and shields and brute force. The crowd went nuts each time.
We wanted to learn more. So we spoke with a fellow named "Sir Mark of the White Hand."
"We do it because it's fun to dress up in armour and beat your friends with a stick," he laughed. "Can you think of anything better to do on a Saturday?"
Turns out though that the Society is all about recreating the entire culture of the middle ages. Yes, they admit they get together weekly to whack the crap out of each other. And yes, they have the broken body parts and concussions and dents in the armour to prove it.
Said Penticton's Herb Olafsson, "I accidentally cut another guy's nipple off because he wasn't wearing proper equipment under his armour."
Ouch!
But they also play music, cook, dance, make costumes, make armour, and much more. Saturday, rarely coming out of character, they spent large expanses of time engaging and entertaining the kids and the adults who wandered over to their tent.
Sir Mark said later he'd been getting medieval for "over 20 years. I'm a tinsmith and that's how I got into it. I thought learning to make armour would be cool. I had no interest in fighting. Then somebody said how do you know if the armour works? That was 20 years ago. I fell for it and here I am."
The gang then suggested this reporter try on a chain mail vest. It weighed 27 pounds. A fully kitted-out knight would wear double that weight. Add in a heavy handheld shield, a thick steel helmet, and your weapon of choice, and it was hard to imagine walking about, nevermind man-to-man conflict. We were ridiculously impressed.
For more information on the Penticton Scottish Festival Society, which will hold its Robbie Burns Dinner on January 18, 2020, go here. To learn more about the Society for Creative Anachronism, which has chapters all over the world but gets together regionally on a weekly basis in Kelowna, go here.
