Logan and I met through mutual friends.
I hadn’t been to Pennsic* for years and didn’t plan on staying for long: I only had a few days that I could squeeze out of my schedule. But summer after summer I’d failed to revisit the folks who had so beautifully welcomed me at my first Pennsic, and with a bohemian’s penchant for traveling, I wasn’t sure when I’d spend another August in the States.
My campmates knew I was coming, but not when to expect me. After a nine-hour drive, I arrived at Cooper’s Lake Campground at dusk, checked in, and received my medallion. Back in the car, I spread out my map and tried to divine my way to the high meadows from those squiggly lines. I remembered the street names on my way: The Great Eastern Highway, Good Intentions, and Free Will. But the campsite looked so foreign from behind the wheel of a car. I had to ask directions two or three times. Everyone was in garb, and readying to party. Never have I felt so garish wearing shorts and a t-shirt.
It was full dark by the time I came to the hellishly steep hill named Abandon Hope, and crawled up it. Sure now that I was in the right neighborhood, I parked the car and wandered past the red-and-black sheetwall that I thought was the right place. I peeked in the gate, and was greeted by a dry erase board that had been propped on an easel. The board featured the household symbol – and some phrases I’ll omit for the sake of innocent eyes.
I was home.
*The largest yearly event of the medieval recreation organization the Society for Creative Anachronism. Upwards of 10,000 people camping, crafting, shopping and partying with a medieval flavor.