Ironfest 2013!

 

I can’t tell you the last time I was in Lithgow. It was sometime when I was very young and I remember that the place was grey and oppressive: everything was run-down and miserable-looking without a single bright colour anywhere to alleviate the gloom. Imagine my surprise then, when I landed there today in order to attend the 14^th annual Ironfest gathering!

Certainly it’s autumn, and the cluster of European trees that always indicate Blue Mountains communities was bursting out in reds oranges and yellows; those trees are now much larger than when I was a child and the surrounding country looks lush and heavily-forested. Lithgow sits at the bottom of a natural amphitheatre bound by craggy cliffs and is punctuated with the Victorian ruins of its mining past. The train passed through eight or so tunnels before we reached the station, each of them framed with elegant sandstone.

Economically, I don’t think much has changed in the town. It was poor when I saw it years ago and it’s still struggling now: Main Street is full of pubs, dentists and hearing-aid specialists, bargain stores and employment agencies, all separated by empty shopfronts plastered with “For Lease” notices. Nowadays though, the buildings lining the street are painted and cheerful, a world away from the grey uniformity and bleakness I encountered in the ‘70s. However, nice a surprise as this was, I was here for something quite different:

Ironfest is in its fourteenth year at Lithgow. Originally, this event was a get-together organised by a local metal-weapons re-enactment group but, after allowing other such organisations to attend and then opening their brief a little wider to encompass other hobbyists and fans, they’ve made the event a wonderful, quirky and welcoming phenomenon.

 

I have a bit of a confession to make at this point: I was once an SCA member and did my time running around a freezing paddock in a silly outfit. I came to the activity due to an interest in heraldry and stayed to learn - and eventually teach - archery (before a visiting “King of the West”, under whose aegis we fell at that time, decided on a whim that we were a bunch of homicidal toxophilists and banned us from archery, pending a moratorium – one of many, many, reasons I quit). Coming to this event I was a bit hesitant about the possibility of running into some of the (colourful? certifiable?) people I encountered back then, but, secure in my anonymity, I felt few would recognise me now. Still, it was with some unease that I approached the front gate of the Lithgow Showgrounds with the sound of “All Around My Hat”, the Steeleye Span staple that infects every SCAdian gathering, ringing off the surrounding hills. Suddenly though, the sound of cannon-fire drowned out the singing and, when the echoes had faded, the tune had changed: I walked through the gate and was pleasantly confronted by an amazing spectacle.

 

The place was truly magical. Everything was tricked out in party atmosphere: bunting and tents lined all the laneways and people were hurrying around dressed up to the nines. There were so many top hats and bowlers on show that I suspect people had been ruthlessly raiding their local second-hand stores in the weeks previous. Most of these hats were adorned with the ubiquitous steampunk goggles. All the tents were furiously merchandising and each one of them was a “shoppe” – any other term just doesn’t convey the feeling these vendors were trying to exude. There were leatherworkers, mead-makers, purveyors of fairy-wings and metal artworks, hatmakers, glovemakers and henna-tattoo artisans. And this was all just within ‘coo-ee’ of the front entrance! The theme this year was “Time Travel” so any perceived anachronism had its own built-in rationale; to underscore the notion, there was a TARDIS just inside the gate.

 

I was particularly impressed by the main pavilion which, made of brick, has towers with crenellations and arrow slits. Inside, there were merchandisers selling “Ironfest 2013” T-shirts and other branded goods, as well as a bunch of guys who build replicas of R2-D2 in their spare time. There were so many of these little guys in different colours, all tweeting and beeping and scooting about alarming kids, that it was hard to know where to look: there was a steampunk version made of brass, rosewood and glass, as well as a copy that had been assimilated by the Borg. There were also Daleks, copies of K-9, a replica of the Time Machine from the first movie based on H.G. Wells’ novel and a mock-up of the bridge of the SS-Enterprise from the original “Star Trek” series These guys obviously have no lives!

 

Outside once more, I turned to the main showground: the grandstand to one side was the perfect spot to observe the jousting, so I headed in that direction. As I wandered, I saw a beautiful Viking tent (the owner was selling goods made of leather and horn) and a bunch of Roman Legionaries running a shoppe selling ‘mediaeval’ tchotchkes. I saw an information tent set up by the Lithgow Small-Arms Factory Museum (this used to be a major employer of the locals, including my grandfather) and an encampment established by a group of ANZAC re-creators. Next to them was a disturbing coterie of Third Reich living-history types who – I guess, understandably – pointedly avoided having their photos taken.

 

I reached the grandstand as the jousting ended, but this was no big deal; it drew my attention to the centre of the showground where the various “villages” of the re-creation attendees were established. The guy on the loudspeaker announced that the Mediaeval Village was about to be attacked by a squad from the 1^st AIF, so I wandered over to see how things would pan out. Incidentally, the Mediaeval Village was the site for a rolling series of attacks by outsiders from various times and places. As I approached the embattled settlement I think I saw the cause of their problem:

 

The various encampments around the village each had their strengths and weaknesses; I especially liked the Napoleonic re-enactors who had the major share of the campground, populated with a mess tent, space for camp-followers, a string of cannon, and horses. An announcement over the PA as I ventured over informed me that the Frenchies were about to have lunch, which I thought was a little unnecessary in terms of general information-distribution, but I soon saw why our attention was being so drawn: the mess tent comprised a coal-burning cooker with spits for roasting and an enormous pile of edibles that the troops and their hangers-on were tucking into with period gusto. While not an activity that we gawpers were invited to share, it was amazing to watch such adherence to period details. (And what they were eating certainly looked better than all of the fairy-floss, chilli-dogs and deep-fried mysteries that the audience was consuming!)

 

I decided to follow some Troopers over to the metal-working displays and see what all the noise (and there was quite a lot of it) was about. This exhibition space – normally used for judging cattle – was chock-a-block full of guys with hammers, whaling away at bits of hot metal. They were making hooks and horseshoes, knives, pot-hangers and even a tree. One group had really gotten into the spirit, all of the smiths wearing top hats or bowlers, and their molten metal was being pounded by a steam hammer. Out in the yard beyond these guys were four steam engines and the biggest of these periodically did laps around the fairground to amaze onlookers.

 

Musically, the joint was jumpin’, with belly-dancers, folk-singers and a tent full of mediaeval musicians with incredible period instruments and a repertoire to go along with them. The Lithgow City Council Brass Band was also in attendance and gave everyone tunes to sing along with.

 

There was a lot more but it would take weeks to go through it all. Suffice it to say, there was a great vibe happening and a huge amount of creativity reverberating in the one spot. I was delighted by the willingness of everyone to pitch in and some of the costumes were amazing: one girl had designed a dress after the TARDIS as a nod to this year’s theme; sadly, it was somewhat too cold a day for her to enjoy wearing it and her willingness to be photographed had tapered off abruptly. Nevertheless, kudos! At every turn I found something to be tickled about: the weapons and armour guys had a display of their craft and there, lurking in the middle of it all, was the Spear of Destiny. It was great to see everyone picking up the theme and running as hard as they could with it.

Eventually though, I had to head back to the train station and make my way home. As I left, the gatekeepers asked if I was intending to come back today, in which case they would stamp my wrist so that I could come and go as I wished (and I should hope so, with a $35 entry fee!). I wasn’t going to be coming back but I got the stamp anyway: next year’s Ironfest bears the theme “Life on Mars” - I’ll definitely be coming back!