Posted by Tina | Valhalla Viking Festival | July 2026
Last year I arrived at Valhalla not knowing my place.
This year I arrived knowing I had one.
That’s the difference a year makes.
Every summer, the Valhalla Viking Festival transforms a Hampshire field into a bustling Viking world of feasting, live music, historic crafts, workshops and one of the friendliest volunteer communities I’ve ever experienced. Last year I volunteered too, but I paid for my ticket like everyone else. This year, my place was earned — through last year’s hours. Here’s what happened.
Arriving at Valhalla Viking Festival
I won’t pretend the anticipation wasn’t tinged with anxiety. The drive from Portsmouth to Basingstoke, barely an hour, felt loaded with questions.
Would I fit in? Would I remember people? Would they remember me?
I needn’t have worried.
Within minutes of arriving, familiar faces appeared. Hugs were exchanged. And just like that, I was back.
Setting Up – Solo This Time
Last year, kind volunteers helped me put up my tent.
This year I did it alone. That felt significant. Small, but significant.
My quiet camping friends hadn’t arrived yet. At Valhalla, everyone is a friend. So I sorted myself out, parked up and made my way to main camp to find the rest of the team.
Some familiar faces were already there, wrestling with the large canvas festival tents. There were hugs, catching up and the easy camaraderie of people who had been through something together before. I jumped in to help, and it wasn’t until then that a beer finally found its way into my hand.
Once my quiet camp friends arrived, I lent a hand putting up their tents too — though “helping” is generous. They’re seasoned campers, and I probably learned more from watching them than I actually contributed.
A call came for someone to drive a volunteer back to Portsmouth to collect a few things left behind from his university days. I offered. I know the area well, and I’d also managed to leave my own outfits at home, so it was the perfect excuse to head back and rescue both our forgotten belongings.
Volunteering at Quiet Camp
My volunteer role this year was wonderfully straightforward: gate duty at quiet camping, directing the steady stream of vendors and arriving campers. Sunburnt knees were the main occupational hazard. A genuinely excellent tan was the reward.
Officially I had set hours. Unofficially, like most volunteers, I spent plenty of time pitching in outside them too — that’s just how it works at Valhalla.
My mornings were deliberately slow. I’d booked afternoon shifts so I could wake at my own pace, make two or three cups of coffee on my little camping stove and enjoy instant porridge before the day began.
The coffee deserves a mention. Home Bargains’ 3-in-1 sachets are genuinely the gift of the gods.
The tent, however, became a sauna by about 9am once the sun hit it directly. Slow mornings have a very natural deadline.
Volunteers were fed breakfast, lunch and dinner every day — a feast of a different kind before the real feasting even began. I happily skipped the 7am breakfasts in favour of my coffee ritual and never regretted it once.
My wee bottle, purchased specifically for those 3am “I really don’t want to walk across a dark campsite” moments, was without question the best decision I made before leaving home.
I’ll say no more.
You’re welcome.
Inside the Valhalla Feast
Friday, Saturday and Sunday brought the full Valhalla Feast for those with feast tickets.
The Mead Hall was alive with sound.
Among the bands performing across the weekend, Seidrblot and Galdocraeft stood out. Deep throat singing vibrated through your chest, performed live while we feasted. It wasn’t background music. It was something far more visceral.
People got up and danced. No self-consciousness. No judgement.
Just people moving to ancient sounds, completely immersed in the moment.
I didn’t dance. But I loved watching them. Sometimes the best seat is the one where you can take it all in.
Viking Craft Stalls Worth Visiting
One of my favourite parts of Valhalla is wandering between the stalls. Every corner seems to hold something you’ve never seen before.
Walking between shifts, one stall piqued my curiosity.
Thimblerig Games was selling historic games and curiosities from across the centuries. Knucklebones, Hnefatafl, and games I couldn’t even begin to name, let alone explain. I still haven’t mastered regular chess, so some of these were definitely beyond me.
If you’re a history lover or enjoy unusual gifts, it’s well worth stopping for a browse. You can find them on Etsy at Thimblerig Games.
A little further along stood HiowBeorht, a family of medieval artisans bringing colour back to the Middle Ages.
Ben, the Master Scribe, is an exceptionally talented calligrapher and bookbinder. While he was away teaching, his partner Maeve sat quietly stitching part of the Bayeux Tapestry by hand.
It was one of those displays that makes you stop talking and simply watch.
I’d taken Ben’s bookbinding class the previous year and genuinely loved it. It remains one of the best-value workshops I’ve ever done, and it’s a skill I’m still practising at home.
This year I booked onto his calligraphy workshop instead.
Writing with a nib fixed to a simple wooden handle and dipping into an ink pot sounds straightforward.
It isn’t.
Creating letters in medieval styles takes patience, control and far steadier hands than mine.
I left proudly carrying my practice sheet in my back pocket.
Unfortunately, it didn’t stand the test of time unlike some of its medievel counterparts.
By the end of the afternoon, the combination of sweat and sunshine had left it damp and smudged, the ink bleeding into something barely legible.
If you’re choosing between the two workshops, I’d still recommend the bookbinding class for first-timers. At £32 compared with £20 for calligraphy, I felt it offered even better value, though both were thoroughly enjoyable.
You can find HiowBeorht at hiowbeorht.com.
Handmade Viking Clothing from Minerva Craft
No festival wardrobe is complete without something handmade.
At the Minerva Craft stall, I found exactly that.
The smokkr stopped me in my tracks — a deep teal Viking apron dress — and I bought it there and then, along with a cream linen shift. I went back later for a third piece, a pale aqua linen shift, once I’d talked myself into it.
The smokkr is worn over a linen shift, with wide shoulder straps, a tan bodice panel and beautiful woven trim in blue-green tones. I finished the look with my own leather belt.
The reality, though, was that I spent most of the festival in my volunteer uniform: shorts and my Valhalla volunteer T-shirt. Practical won every time when I was on gate duty in the July sunshine.
The evenings were a different story.
That’s when I got to dress up.
The cream and aqua shifts were perfect for wandering the festival once my shift had finished, and on two evenings I layered the smokkr over the top.
Heavy.Warm. Floor length. – July.
Did I overheat?
Almost certainly.
Did I care?
Not even slightly.
For under £200, I came home with three beautifully handmade, historically inspired garments that I’ll be wearing at Valhalla for years to come.
Not a penny regretted.
Minerva Craft creates handmade historical clothing for adults and children. You can find her at minervacraft.co.uk.
Meeting Bran and Pepper
Every year, one of Valhalla’s most popular visitors is Bran, a magnificent raven who attends with his keepers, Bruce and Lou.
Watching a raven wandering around a Viking festival somehow feels exactly right.
This year, Bran was joined by Tay and her young barn owl, Pepper.
Pepper was wonderfully calm, completely unfazed by hundreds of Vikings, music, children and general festival chaos.
Tay asked if I’d hold Pepper while she nipped to the loo — not an easy thing to do taking an owl to the loo I’d imagine, . Of course I said yes.
Then off she went.
Leaving me standing in the middle of a field, completely alone… holding a barn owl.
It was one of those wonderfully surreal moments where you stop and think,
“How exactly did this become my life?”
We managed to get some stunning photos, but more than that, it became one of those quiet memories that stayed with me long after the festival ended.
If you’d like to see more of Pepper, you can find Tay on Instagram at @pepperpot.b.
You can also follow Bran’s adventures on Facebook.
Sunday: A Viking’s Idea of a Rest Day
I’d deliberately kept Sunday as my day off.
In practice, that meant a tattoo at 10am, the glass walk and ice bath at 10.30, helping out on the gate in between, blacksmithing at 4.30 and the feast at 6.30.
A Viking’s idea of a rest day.
The Owl Tattoo
Before anything else, I had an appointment with Kat, a wonderfully talented tattoo artist, who hand-poked an owl onto the back of my neck, right at the top of my spine.
Owls have always resonated with me.
To me, they represent wisdom, seeing in the dark and quietly knowing things without needing to shout about them.
It also became a permanent reminder of one of my favourite moments from the week: standing alone in a field, holding Pepper the barn owl, feeling completely at peace.
Freshly tattooed and quietly buzzing with excitement, I headed over to the Logi Firewalking experience.
You can find Kat on Instagram at @kattyk.tattoos.
Kat made sure I arrived early so I wouldn’t be late for what came next.
Walking on Glass
I’d walked on fire before.
Last year, at this very festival, I crossed hot coals holding a stranger’s hand.
Glass felt different.
Slower.
More controlled.
More deliberate.
Before we went anywhere near the broken glass, Terry guided us through a series of breathing exercises. Square breathing. 4-7-8 breathing. A little Wim Hof. Techniques designed to ground us before we took a single step.
Then Chris led us to the glass, with Terry by his side.
They asked for a volunteer to go first.
For once, I found myself feeling more curious than afraid.
I stepped forward.
Standing at the edge of the tarp, I rested my hands on Chris and Terry’s arms and took a slow breath.
One foot.
Feeling the glass beneath it.
Then my weight.
Then the second foot.
It wasn’t anything like firewalking. There was no urgency. No rush.
This demanded patience.
At the centre of the glass bed, I let go of their arms and stood there alone.
Just for a moment.
Then I walked the rest of the way to the end on my own.
My feet were brushed clean.
That was only the practice run.
The second time, Chris and Terry guided me to the centre again. This time, when I let go, it felt different. More familiar. More confident. I stood for a moment, then finished the walk under my own steam.
The Ice Bath
Chris guided us into the ice bath.
Stepping in?
Fine.
Walking to the edge?
Still fine.
Sitting down?
Absolutely not fine.
It was painfully, gasp-inducingly cold.
Every instinct told me to climb straight back out.
Instead, I breathed.
I trusted what Terry had just taught us.
I listened as Chris encouraged us to stay with the discomfort rather than fight it.
Gradually, my breathing slowed.
My shoulders relaxed.
The cold stopped feeling like something I had to survive and became something I could simply experience.
By the time it was over, I genuinely didn’t want to get out.
I stayed for two or three minutes before climbing into a huge coat and joining the gentle tai chi movements Terry guided us through to bring the warmth back into our bodies.
What Chris, Terry and the entire Logi Firewalking team give people isn’t just an experience.
It’s evidence.
Evidence that your body knows more than your fear does.
You can find them at logi-firewalking.co.uk, and Chris at @fruitionosteopathy on Instagram.
The Forge
Later that afternoon, I made my way to Sam Smith the Blacksmith’s forge for my 4.30pm workshop, booked during my precious leisure time.
Sam travels to medieval fairs and re-enactments from his forge near Glastonbury, giving people the chance to experience blacksmithing for themselves.
I was very much one of those people.
Under Sam’s patient guidance, I fashioned my own hairpin from a length of steel. Heated. Shaped. Hammered.
I won’t pretend I didn’t need a helping hand with some of the heavier work, but every twist, curve and decision was mine.
Better still…
I wore it that evening.
There’s something quietly satisfying about wearing something you’ve made with your own hands.
I’d recommend the experience entirely.
You can find Sam at samsmiththeblacksmith.wordpress.com.
The Gifts
Deb was my very first Valhalla friend.
She was the woman who found me crying into my furs last year, helped me pitch my tent and sat with me through some of the hardest moments of my first festival.
This year, she arrived with something I never expected.
Once she’d unpacked and we were settled into quiet camp, she handed me a beautifully wrapped bundle.
Inside was a crochet shawl she’d made herself.
A beautiful triangle with a scalloped edge, in colours she’d carefully chosen to match what I’d worn at Valhalla the year before.
She’d remembered.
She’d thought about it.
She’d made it.
Alongside it was a handmade Valhalla keyring with my initial, a bracelet and a small wooden token engraved with the words:
“A hug for you.”
A little reminder to carry with me that I am loved.
Even the wrapping was beautiful.
I honestly didn’t know what to say.
Someone had taken time out of their own life to think about what would make me smile, make it with their own hands, personalise it and wrap it with such care.
For someone who arrived at Valhalla last year wondering whether she belonged, that gift answered the question more clearly than words ever could.
Quietly.
Completely.
Why Volunteering Feels Different
There is absolutely nothing wrong with buying a weekend ticket. You’ll still experience the battles, the feast, the music, the workshops and the incredible atmosphere.
But volunteering gives you something a ticket can’t.
It lets you become part of the festival, rather than simply attend it.
What you get as a volunteer:
- You get to watch it being built. An empty field slowly becoming a Viking world. Tents erected, decorations placed, the feast hall taking shape. That transformation is something no ticket grants you access to.
- You get the community. Meals and drinks provided by the organisers before and after festival hours. Long evenings eating together, swapping stories, making friends in the way that only happens when people are working toward something shared.
- You get the roles. Working in the feast hall or kitchen, stewarding, lifting and carrying, litter picking, decorating the site, staffing the ticket tent. There’s something for most abilities, and when you’re needed elsewhere, most volunteers simply help. That’s the culture.
The honest bit:
You won’t see everything. Some of the music and shows will happen while you’re on shift. The work is real and sometimes tiring. Small things go wrong and get sorted. Every year improves on the last.
But you will feel part of something. Not just attending. Contributing. Building. Belonging.
Going alone?
Many volunteers do. There are Facebook communities for solo attendees who want to connect before the festival opens. And once you arrive, the Valhalla community has a way of making strangers feel like family remarkably quickly.
Feel the fear and do it anyway.
Earning your place:
- 24 hours total, at least 12 during festival opening hours, earns your festival ticket for the following year.
- 48 hours or more earns your festival ticket and feast ticket.
These were this year’s terms — the organisers may change them, so it’s worth checking current details before you commit.
Apply at valhallavikingfestival.co.uk/pages/volunteer
How It Ended
Monday night was the volunteer barbecue. Music, laughter, the kind of easy company that only exists when a group of strangers have built something together for a week.
And then the final evening.
Covered in mead, resting in a pile of hay in the gods’ wood, with friends, looking up at the patterns the trees made against the sky above.
That’s how Valhalla ended.
That’s the only way it should.
Would I Go Back?
Without hesitation.
If you have ever wondered what it is like to step outside your ordinary life for a week, to build something, feast on something, walk on glass and hold an owl and earn your place in a community of brilliantly odd, warm, genuine people, consider this your sign.
The Valhalla Viking Festival isn’t just an event.
It’s a reminder of what you are capable of.
Even when you are standing at the edge of a tarp full of broken glass, wondering what on earth you were thinking.
Especially then.
Valhalla Viking Festival — The Practical Bit
Valhalla Viking Festival 2027 Friday 30th July – Sunday 1st August 2027 Dummer Down Farm, Basingstoke, RG25 2AR
2027 tickets go on sale at the end of august — sign up to the newsletter at valhallavikingfestival.co.uk to be first to know.
For ticket types, feast options, camping, parking and everything else, check the official ticket and FAQ pages at valhallavikingfestival.co.uk — details can shift year to year, so it’s always worth confirming there before you book.
Follow Valhalla: Instagram: @valhallavikingfestival
Have you been to Valhalla or volunteered at a festival? I’d love to hear your experience in the comments, or come find me on Instagram @travel.me.anywhere.
