JÓRVÍK: A VIKING PILGRIMAGE (Part 2)

órvík Viking Festival is an annual, week-long celebration in York, established in February 1985 following the landmark opening of the Jórvík Viking Centre the year prior. Now recognised as Europe’s largest Viking event, it has become a massive pilgrimage for living history enthusiasts, battle re-enactors, and history buffs. It’s a unique space where the academic meets the atmospheric, drawing in everyone from Viking fans to Heathens.

Last week we visited York for the Viking Festival; I covered day one in my previous post (here). Our remaining time in this glorious city was spent taking in the Viking vibe and enjoying everything York has to offer. Between the scent of woodsmoke drifting from the encampments and the steady beat of drums echoing through the streets, the atmosphere was incredible.

From the encampment to the marvellous Valhalla bar (a must for anyone who loves Viking culture), every corner felt alive. The Merchant Adventurers' Hall hosted the 10th-century traders' market, which was brimming with Viking and medieval goods. Morticia even treated me to a new drinking horn—one that holds a full pint!

Our evenings were spent in Valhalla, just around the corner from the famous Shambles. It is truly the place to be during the festival, with a spirited mix of Vikings, re-enactors, and metalheads all crossing the threshold. The music is great, the food is excellent, and the ale is top-tier.

While the live music can be a bit hit-and-miss, the beauty of having three floors is that you can always find a spot that fits your mood. It was heartening to see so many familiar faces; people we see year after year where a simple, knowing nod is all that’s needed to acknowledge we’re amongst our own again.

Last year we took in the Jorvik Viking Centre, so this year we decided to change pace. Though it's a slight departure from the Viking genre, we thought it would be a bit of fun to visit the York Dungeon.

Before that, however, we popped in to 'visit' Dick. The Blue Boar is famously reported to have held the body of the notorious highwayman, Dick Turpin, following his execution. Down in the cellar—where you can still sit and soak in the history—there’s a coffin and details of his grisly end. Having been before, we couldn't help but notice they’ve added a pool table to the cellar area; it does take away some of the atmosphere, but the history of the place still lingers.

The York Dungeon is a theatrical journey through 2,000 years of the city's macabre history, billed as a 'scary-fun' experience. While I found it highly enjoyable, the 'scare' factor didn't quite hit for me—perhaps I’ve just developed a high tolerance for the genre over the years!

Morticia has visited the London Dungeon and maintains that the London offering is superior in scale and thrills. However, I’m not written off yet; I think next time I’d look into their Dungeon Lates (18+) for a more adult-orientated, late-night experience to see if that can truly rattle my bones.

Saturday brought the famous March to Coppergate, where the Vikings march through the winding streets of York; it is truly a sight to witness. We didn't manage to snag the best viewpoint this year, as the streets felt even busier than usual, but I still wouldn't have missed it for all of Midgard. There is something powerful about the sound of boots on cobblestones and the roar of the warriors that stays with you long after they've passed.

An interesting bit of history to keep in mind while wandering: the many street names ending in ‘gate’—so common here in the North and in other Viking-settled areas—actually originate from the Old Norse word gata, meaning ‘street’ or ‘way.’ It’s a linguistic echo I see all the time back home, and it’s a nice reminder that even when the festival ends, we are still walking the paths laid down by our ancestors.

A final walk around the Viking markets and one last meal in Valhalla closed out our visit. By then, both Morticia and I were feeling the physical toll of the weekend; my back was giving me significant trouble and, with her own disability, it was clear she was also struggling and ready to head home.

Unlike last year, the train journey was thankfully uneventful and even on time. Our train departed York Station at a quarter to seven, leaving the city behind as we turned our focus toward home and the rest we both needed.

However, the pull of the city is already working its magic; we’re already looking forward to next year’s festival and are even considering a cheeky visit later this year—funds permitting, of course.

On our travels, I often get comments on my ‘look’—usually it’s the beard or the jacket, and occasionally even the glasses. Every visit to the festival seems to result in someone wanting to photograph the back of my vest. So, this time, while the night brought out the true beauty of The Shambles, I asked Morticia to take a photograph of my back (perhaps my best side?) so I could finally share whatever the fuss is all about.

While I am back from the physical streets of York and focusing on a much-needed reset, the journey through the rugged landscapes of Jorvikshire continues in my webcomic, Northman. If you’ve enjoyed the tales of my time in the city, you’ll find that same spirit alive in the comic.

You can read the latest chapter here: northman.kirt.me.uk

The festival may have ended, but I’ll be sharing more photos from the encampment, the March on Coppergate, and the mystery of the "vest" over on social media. Join me there for more glimpses into my Norse-inspired path:

Instagram ● Threads

BlueSky ● TikTok