At the Celtic festival in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, everyone comes to strut their clan colors—or release their inner pixie
Harrison Bailey III strides onto the field for the sheaf toss, an event that involves jabbing a hay bale with a pitchfork, then spinning like a discus thrower before heaving the load over a high pole. Bailey, an assistant principal at a nearby Lehigh Valley high school, stands six foot three and weighs 285 pounds. His head is shaved. He's wearing a skirt.
Make that a kilt—the costume of choice for many of the 250,000 attendees at the Celtic Classic Highland Games and Festival, my 12-year-old Jacob, and his pal Will included. For the fifth year, Jacob; my wife, Gina (who descends from the Scottish Douglas clan); and I (three-quarters Irish) have joined the fiddlers, step dancers, bikers tattooed with tribal shields, and spoon carvers making the pilgrimage to Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, for the oldest and largest Celtic gathering in North America. Bethlehem friends tipped us off to the fest, which takes over the fairgrounds of this picturesque town in late September to celebrate the music, dance, and crafts of the seven Celtic nations. And then some.
The fun begins Friday night with the piping of the haggis, when that delicacy (a sheep's stomach, or, in this instance, sausage casing, stuffed with sheep parts, oatmeal, and suet) is carried onto Highland Field in orange plastic buckets, accompanied by bagpipers. On Saturday morning there's a parade that goes through the town, which was settled by Moravians in 1741 and made famous by the now-defunct Bethlehem Steel Works. The marchers—the color guard of the local police department, the clan societies, Saint David's Welsh Society of the Slate Belt (the Welsh historically worked eastern Pennsylvania's mines), and the pipe-and-drum bands—make their way down Main Street and stream onto the fairgrounds. Then, under the tight control of their majors, the bands strike up a rousing tune and begin to march as one. When the first players reach the end of the field, they double back, weaving among their fellow musicians, creating a thrilling, whirring knot of tartans and swinging drumsticks.
Pageantry gives way to brute strength with the opening of the U.S. National Highland Athletic Championships. Top-ranking competitors from as far away as Scotland toss the caber (a tree trunk) and the Braemar Stone (a 24-pound rock). When Bailey, the U.S. champ and valley hero, sets another Celtic Classic record, spectators whoop and do an end-zone jig.
The festival stretches for a mile, the grounds dotted with beer tents and booths offering meat pies and Scotch eggs (hard-boiled egg inside sausage meat and bread crumbs). Bands of every style—from Dublin's jazz-inflected Lunasa to the Isle of Man's classical Ring Chiaullee, which features tin whistles and mandolins—perform on seven stages. Over at the Society for Creative Anachronism, maidens in homemade wimples spin wool, while adult warriors in battle wear crafted from football pads and plastic containers whack each other over the head.
Jacob and Will get in the swing of things, sparring with wooden swords bought from a vendor. Every year, Jacob trolls the market booths for something new for his festival rig. One year it was a tam-o'-shanter, another, a sgian dubh (pronounced "skin doo"), a small, holstered ankle knife. This time he chooses a sporran, a leather pouch worn at the waist. Around us swarm Goth teenagers with black capes and eyebrow piercings. Young Irish step dancers in bouncy curled wigs skip by. In the children's area, we watch a play in which a pirate recruits three dads in the audience as a ship's crew. They all good-naturedly take part in a salty hornpipe contest. As for me, I'm thinking what a bonus it is to be able to enjoy a pint of ale during the kids' activities! ✚
Christopher Russell is a New York artist who works in ceramics (see russellproject.com). He himself stitches his son's kilts for the fest.
This year's Celtic Classic Highland Games and Festival in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, takes place September 28, 29, and 30. See celticculturalalliance.org for more information, including schedules and lodging options.
by Alison Goran
Milwaukee Irish Fest
August 16-19, 2007
The Henry W. Maier Festival Park
$15 per day, children 12 and under free
Every August, more than 100 bands and dance companies, plus some 130,000 visitors, gather at Maier Festival Park, on Lake Michigan, for the biggest Irish festival in the world.
Music: Musicians and dancers perform all day on 16 stages. Don't miss Gaelic Storm, the folk quintet that went from playing pubs in Santa Monica to touring the United States, and Líadan, a six-woman band from Galway, Limerick, and Dublin.
The draw: At the festival's Cultural Village reps from ancestry.com are on hand to trace your roots and you can smack the softball-like sliothar with an ash wood stick just like the hurling champions do.
For kids: New this year, family passports guide you to the kid-friendly attractions, including the children's stage and the Celtic Canines area, where Irish Terriers and Setters are there for the petting. And if your brood is red in the head, don't miss the red hair-and-freckles contests-kids win trophies and march in the parade.
For full immersion: Sign up for summer school-a week of courses in Gaelic, Irish music and dance, and art-prior to the festival.
Celtic Colours International Festival
Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia, Canada
October 5-13, 2007
Tickets for each event and concert from $20
Music: Cape Breton fiddling, a style brought over by Scottish immigrants during the Highland Clearances, reigns supreme at the festival-there's no where else that you can find Celtic music as pure as it is here.
The draw: Cape Breton is one of the few areas in the world (outside of Scotland and Ireland) where Gaelic is a living language and culture. The fest is an island-wide celebration, so you'll need a few days-and some wheels-to visit the scattered fire halls, churches, and community centers that host music, dance, and storytelling performances. Plus, it's prime foliage time, as you'll notice as you wind around Bras d'Or Lakes, Canada's largest saltwater lake, or down the Cabot Trail highway en route to the next fiddle show.
For kids: A storytelling theater, step-dancing lessons, and fiddling 101-all for the under-18 set.
For full immersion: At Nova Scotia Highland Village Museum, kids become Gaels-for-a-day, gardening, spinning wool, and making candles while decked out in petticoats and trousers.