Degrees of authenticity

I may have mentioned somewhere in these pages belonging to the Society for Creative Anachronism (SCA). I suggest following the link for an informative background, since I'm far from an active member. The leadership accepts, with good grace, that there are degrees of participation: we'll come back to that in a moment.

This organisation is divided into kingdoms, duchies, baronies, etc. I live the the Canton of the Towers, part of the Barony of Carolingia of the East Kingdom. At this time each summer, for many years, the East Kingdom and Middle Kingdom have met in Pennsylvania for a fortnight of mock combat, competitions of other sorts, mercantile displays and festivities called the Pennsic Wars. Since (I am told) it nearly always rains a lot for Pennsic, the extra-curricular activities seem to include a lot of wallowing in the mud.

Back to the question of degrees of participation. If one is a comparative purist, one shows up attired in linen and wool from undergarments out, sleeps in a duck-cloth tent suitably decorated, and with few exceptions immerses oneself in the Middle Ages...and the mud. The exceptions are using Master Card and Lady Visa to pay for purchases, and actual homicide. It is generally accepted that sleeping in a more modern and water-resistant tent, having changes of clothes stashed somewhere dry (like a car), and bathing represent reasonable compromises with the 21st century.

As an archer of my Barony, I have a certain interest in the outcome of the archery events. In the past, I've accepted that waiting until the event is over for the results is the price one pays for authenticity.

Imagine my surprise yesterday when my email included a daily summary of archery results from Pennsic. There was another such summary today. While it's interesting information (at least for me), I have to wonder first, how far one stretches degrees of participation and second, how the sender manages it: Imagine Henry V texting from the field of Agincourt to Ye Dailie Beeste.

When last I looked, there are two items that absolutely do not mix: deep mud, and 21st century portable media of any kind. These accounts have a degree of detail that suggests laptop rather than some smaller machine. All these things have batteries, and batteries must eventually be recharged. Whilst many carry their own Wi-Fi with them, the effectiveness can be limited out in the woods and fields. Much as I appreciate the information, I'm envisioning the source using the information stream as an excuse to shower, change, and slip away to Ye Starbuckes or some similar resource.

Now, that's the sort of thinking that could get Pennsic on my bucket list.