Time Warp to a Renaissance Festival

While out for a walk with my stepdaughter, Zoe, in Red Lodge, Montana, we noticed a large cluster of RVs at the local rodeo grounds. While not an official campground, at times, people park their campers there for special events, namely the annual July 4th rodeo and the 4-H fair in August.

But this was early June, technically still mud season in the Beartooth Mountains, though a smattering of motorhomes had already puttered through the town heading over the Beartooth Pass toward Yellowstone National Park. The snowbanks were still 20 feet high on the pass, though the grass was green in town.

Then things got weird. As we neared the makeshift RV park, Robin Hood and Maid Marian sauntered past us in the other direction. A Viking and a pirate rushed out of a trailer and jogged toward the rodeo stadium. I could have sworn William Shakespeare sat in a lawn chair by an Airstream talking to Leonardo da Vinci while a minstrel practiced a madrigal on a mandolin.

It seemed we had walked through a time warp into a mixed-up medieval fantasy. In fact, a Renaissance Faire had come to town (the Montana Ren Fest at the Red Lodge Rodeo Grounds takes place June 3–4 this year).

Stepping Back in Time

The word “renaissance” means rebirth. The Renaissance period in European history—from the 1300s–1600s—actually came after seven centuries known as the medieval era, also called the Middle Ages or Dark Ages. During the Renaissance, Europe embraced literature, art, science, and other societal enrichments that had been largely dormant during the military conflicts, political upheaval, and plagues that defined the Dark Ages.

The Renaissance was also a time of global exploration, introducing Europeans to new lands and thus new plants, animals, and cultures. Indeed, a guy who looked just like Christopher Columbus bade Zoe and me a cheerful “Hello” as he walked by.

A few steps later, we came to the official entrance of the rodeo grounds. The bucking bronco that normally greets rodeo-goers was hidden behind a gatehouse to a castle. Curious, we paid the small entrance fee and joined the revelry, though I felt out of place in my jeans and T-shirt. Everyone else was dressed in a costume, some elaborately, and they all played the part in which they were dressed. It was as if coming to the Renaissance Faire had unleashed some inner desire to be a knight, a maiden, a wizard, or whatever persona one fantasized about, so long as it was a medieval or Renaissance character.

We wandered past an assortment of royal courtiers, at least three kings with queens on their arms, and a gal with a light-blue face who looked like one of those cute miniature trolls I collected when I was in grade school. My jaw dropped when Shrek rounded the corner of the rodeo stands. The costume was so accurate that he looked like he had stepped out of the movie into the moment. At the Renaissance Faire, the people watching alone is worth the price of admission, but there is a lot more to see and do.

Around the outer wall of the rodeo stadium, dozens of artists and craftspeople dressed in myriad medieval attire manned vendor booths. One stand sold beautiful handmade cutting boards shaped like the head of a battle axe. Another booth offered “medieval cell phone cases” carved out of assorted stones. You could get your face painted to look like an Elizabethan, eat roasted pig and drink mead, as well as gorge on corn dogs and cotton candy.

We heard cheering inside the rodeo stadium, so we went through the portico to see what was going on. Instead of cowboys roping calves, several horseback riders attempted to spear rings with their lances while galloping by. No surprise, both the riders and the horses wore ornate Renaissance garb.

Zoe and I watched for a while then left the stadium to see what else was offered. At one end of a row of targets, we watched a jovial monk teach a school-aged princess and Superman (any costume is better than no costume) how to draw a long bow. In the middle of the row, a stable hand showed a gaggle of giggling belly dancers how to throw spears. And at the far end, a nomadic woman tossed axes with impressive accuracy.

Around the next corner, we spotted two more nomads. They were dressed gaudier and more risqué than the axe thrower, with multiple bangles dangling from their arms and jangling around their bare tummies. One had a boa constrictor draped around her neck, and the other had a python, both serpents alive and curious about anyone who approached.

“Can I touch it?” asked a small boy to the woman with the boa. She nodded yes, but it took the boy several minutes to get the nerve up. In the meantime, the snake slowly slithered its way down her chest then around her waist then back up to her shoulders in a fascinating yet creepy caress of her body. Eventually, Zoe and I pet the snake, too. It felt oddly cool and dry though it looked shiny in the sunshine.

Ironically, a peasant man stood a few yards away demonstrating how to skin a snake. A large crowd gathered around him to watch, while a blacksmith pounded out nails across the lane. Further still, a woman plucked a psaltery, a handheld stringed instrument that was a predecessor of the harpsichord, as several adults and children danced around a maypole. There was so much to see!

The most impressive costume was worn by a woman dressed as a satyr, a mythical creature that’s half goat and half human. It must have taken her hours to dress up. Massive, curving horns grew from each side of her head through her long, curly, blue hair. Her torso was clad in leather straps reminiscent of a medieval renegade. Her legs looked like the hindquarters of a black steed. But it was her feet that set her apart; well, her hooves, on which she skillfully balanced while chatting with passersby.

Fare Thee Well!

“Jousting starts in 10 minutes,” announced the PA system as we admired the satyr. With that, both visitors and vendors made their way to the jousting arena. Zoe and I followed, excited to see the show. It proved an adrenaline-filled grand finale to our first visit to a Renaissance Faire.

As the emcee, who looked like a cross between a witch and a fairy, cajoled the crowd, the good knight and the evil knight raced toward each other on their sturdy steeds. It took a few tries as the crowd cheered wildly, but the good knight eventually knocked the evil one off his horse. As the good knight took in the applause, the evil knight snuck up behind him and pulled him from the saddle. They drew swords and began to fight. Other knights joined the fray. Swords clashed. Daggers flew. In the end, the good guys won, but everyone at the festival did, too.

For anyone with an appreciation of European history, who loves medieval fantasy, or who simply likes to put on a costume, a Renaissance Festival is the perfect place. I’m already planning what to wear next time.

History Repeats Itself

The first Renaissance Faire in the US was organized by a schoolteacher named Phyllis Patterson in Southern California in 1963. In a partnership with a local radio station, she and her husband created it over a spring weekend to demonstrate to her students and others in the community what a medieval market was really like.

Instead of a few hundred people, 8,000 attended. Now called the Renaissance Pleasure Faire in Irwindale, California, it attracts more than 200,000 people annually.

Finding a Faire

Today, there are more than 200 Renaissance Faires and Renaissance Festivals around the US, in Canada, Europe, and Australia. Some are only for a weekend, while others last multiple weeks at dedicated fairgrounds. For a listing of them and links to their websites, visit therenlist.com.