Arrival: From Portsmouth to Valhalla
The anticipation began the moment I started packing, meticulously Tetris-ing my camping gear into the car. (Yes, I did yell “perfect fit!” every time something slotted in just right.) The hour-long drive from Portsmouth to Basingstoke felt like a journey between worlds—a transition from everyday life to one of Vikings, fire, and community.
For context, this was my first-ever festival and my first time camping solo. A mix of excitement and sheer apprehension buzzed beneath the surface. Think Bear Grylls, but with less survival instinct and more snacks.
Tuesday: Viking Bootcamp (Minus the Boots)
I arrived on Tuesday, days before the gates opened. After a couple of volunteers helped me set up my tent—new friends already forming—I went in search of work.
- Tasks: Lugging heavy benches and tables into the mead hall—a Viking gym session, minus the protein shakes and plus splinters
- Teamwork: Raising canvas tents for workshops
- Support: Organizers provided breakfast, lunch, and dinner (aka the holy trinity of volunteer fuel)
Utterly exhausted, I collapsed into my tent early, ready for another day of building a world. I’d earned every ache.
Wednesday: From Ropes to Runes
Tent-building continued, but the afternoon brought a creative shift. I spent hours tying colorful strips of fabric to rope, crafting bunting that would soon flutter over the mead hall and arenas. Basically, I went from lifting tents to crafting bunting like a medieval Etsy seller with my fellow crafters.
That evening, I sat with new friends, the hypnotic beat of frame drums and soulful horns filling the air as we sampled different meads. Wrapped in someones sheepskins (it was a little chilly even with the campfire burning), I felt a surprising sense of belonging.
Thursday: Finding My Place
After a peaceful shower—yes, a real one, not a Viking-style river dunk—I spent the day helping wherever I could. Some tasks were beyond my strength or skill, and guilt crept in at times. But the community spirit was undeniable—I was part of something bigger. Even if my contribution was more bunting than brute force.
Friday: Firewalking and Feelings
The day began gently: braided hair, face paint, and prepping vegetables for the feast. But the afternoon brought a transformative experience—a three-hour firewalk with the incredible team at Logi Firewalking.
- Rite of Passage: Breaking an arrow with my throat. Sounds like a bad idea… until it works. 10/10 would recommend for anyone needing a dramatic way to conquer imposter syndrome.
- Emotional High: Holding a stranger’s hand as we walked across coals—a moment of shared fear and courage
- Crash: Tried to serve the feast post-firewalk, but emotions were high and it turns out being a waitress to the screaming, hungry hoards is not my forte. The kitchen team kindly sent me off to cry into my furs.
A friend found me, reminded me why I came, and helped me reconnect with the experience. Emotional whiplash? Absolutely. Worth it? Every tear.
Saturday: Platter Power and Pyromania
I started with a quiet breakfast at a local café (modern Viking luxury), then returned to the kitchen to join the platter team:
- Roles: Meats, cheeses, salads, wrapping, fridge runs
- Efficiency: We formed a platter-making assembly line so efficient, I’m convinced we could’ve catered Ragnarök
- Evening Magic: The boat burning ceremony—a fiery spectacle that made every goosebump worth it.
Sunday: Pizza Axes and Parting Gifts
Dressed in full Viking attire, I made a leatherwork necklace and waited for my dad and husband, Darren, to arrive.
- Gifts: A pizza cutter-style knife/axe from Dad (because nothing says “I love you” like weaponized carbs), and historic furs from Darren
- Kitchen Return: Short-staffed but determined
- Surprise Ending: “Go to the mead hall and feast!”—a perfect send-off with music, laughter, and the kind of atmosphere that makes you forget your feet hurt
Monday: The Final Goodbye
Teardown began. Though exhausted, I helped pack away the ticket tent and the wares of the skull vikings shop (not before a few cheeky purchases though)!and took rubbish to the skip. Tuesday would be my departure day.
- Final Night: Slept in my car in a quiet zone (a Viking retreat, minus the longboat)
- Farewell Fire Pit: Barbecue, kids’ play, and peaceful closure in the gods woods—a soft landing after a wild ride
Reflections: More Than Mead
Volunteering at the Valhalla Viking Festival was more than just a trip—it was a deeply immersive experience. I didn’t just watch the festival; I helped build it. In doing so, I found a new community, tested my limits, and made memories that will last a lifetime.
Also, I now own a pizza axe. So there’s that.
Ready to trade your comfort zone for a Viking tent and a firewalk? If you’ve ever wondered what it’s like to volunteer at a festival that blends ancient traditions with modern community spirit, I hope this gave you a glimpse. Have you ever had a transformative festival experience—or are you thinking of diving into one? Drop a comment below, share your story, or ask me anything about Valhalla! And if you’re curious about joining next year’s crew… consider this your sign.
