For some, the marking of summer may be the burst of Fourth of July fireworks, a cool, refreshing swim after running outside barefoot with your friends or the sweet slurp of watermelon on a hot, sunny day. But in Belfast, it seems that nothing can compare to the Celtic Festival.
During the weekend of July 15–17, the Belfast waterfront hosted its 10th annual Maine Celtic Festival and brought visitors from across land and sea to enjoy the sights and sounds of Celtic traditions. Befit with a collection of amazing food vendors and kilt sellers, the festival is home to a small stage that echoes the voices and sounds of traditional Scottish and Irish music. By the last day, the grassy hills have been home to many a man sporting their kilts and all sorts of games that date back hundreds of years.
Beginning on a Friday evening, my family and I attended the opening musical act. Composed of various artists from other bands within the festival, it was a melodic assortment of voices, instruments, and accents. There were two banjos, two accordions, a bodhrán, an Irish flutist, a stand-up bass, an electric bass, a guitar and a choir of singers composed of all the musicians. It was exquisitely beautiful music that rang through the crowd and encouraged many a tapping foot or dancing knee. Their pieces ranged from ballads to bar songs, accented with the lilt of an Irish yodel.
On Saturday, there was a wide array of musical acts complete with resplendent fireworks after dark to punctuate the frivolity of the festival, for it was on Sunday that the Highland Games began and the Cheese Roll Championships took place.
The Highland Games date back 2,000 years when rival Scottish clans would compete to determine their levels of strength and speed. In present day, they are now exhibitions of robust men and women displaying Celtic pride. Sunday hosted a wide variety of traditional games, but my favorites were by far the caber toss and heavy weight throw. The caber toss consisted of a competitor picking up a trimmed wooden log and balancing it in their hands as they run catching speed in an effort to throw it into the air and somersault the wood onto the ground in the straightest line possible. It looks like quite the feat and the crowd would loudly exalt in the competitors crowned or failed glory.
The heavy weight throw
was when a competitor would twirl their bodies in elaborate turns in order to
garner the longest distance throwing a dense piece of metal attached to a
handle. This one was particularly interesting to note the rotational style and
grunt volume that each thrower would emit, as sometimes it was not the number of tattoos or sinewy arms that indicated victory, but instead the sheer will to
throw the metal.
At 1:30 p.m., the festival organizers had siphoned off a section of the green hill to get ready for the Cheese Roll Championships. The goal: race after a 5-pound roll of cheddar cheese and catch it before anyone else does. To note the seriousness of this game, there were bales of hay at the end of the hill to allow competitors a soft landing, and, indeed, it was harrowing to watch various ages and genders dive for that cheese with arms and legs flying.
I had decided that I was crazy enough to try a hand at winning some cheddar and strapped on my best pair of Merrell’s to put myself to the test. Having already watched six groups before me have their hand at the cheese, I had developed strategic outlook on the competition. When the ref yelled go, I was flying and so were my elbows — I wasn’t going down without a fight. What’s crazy is that it only takes about 20 seconds to complete a cheese roll round, but it feels even faster than that. Quickly, the girl to my right made a dive for the cheese, and I immediately thought my opportunity was gone, but lo and behold she missed it and I quickly made the instant decision to jump that cheese as fast as possible. Fingers were clawing and bodies were rolling, but suddenly I realized the cheese was cupped underneath my body. I was the winner. And as if I was Rocky, I walked up that hill with the cheese in my hand and victoriously held it up in the air with pride.
Success. Walking away with my 5-pound cheese, I was leaving behind the Celtic Festival with thoughts of all the future cheese dishes I would be making for the next five years, but also smiling at the traditional heritage of the Celtics. An exquisite combination of food, games, music, and family, I was more than pleased with the results of Maine’s 10th Annual Celtic Festival.
