Dost thou crave wonder and merriment? Hast thine life become stale, free of adventure and escapade? Fret not, friends, allay your fears. Come, mount your noble steeds. I know of a wondrous, mirthful place, one where fantasy hath never perished, where splendor and ceremony is absolute. ‘Tis just a day’s journey, on horseback.
Come again, my friend? Thou wishes to take thine Ford Focus? Very well. Come, let us make haste. Shotgun.
Yes, a mere 60 miles outside of D.C. sits a particularly unusual piece of abandoned history. Just off of U.S. Route 3 in Fredericksburg, in the middle of what locals like to call “Sherwood Forest,” the Virginia Renaissance Faire is slowly returning to the earth, its plywood facades and half-eaten turkey legs feeding the forest that’s reclaiming it.
Situated on land once owned by George Washington’s mother, the f air opened for business in the summer of 1996. The site cost upwards of $5 million to purchase and renovate. It was an investment – made by then owner and operator Renaissance Entertainment Corporation – that would prove foolhardy. Done in by awful weather (exacerbated by its swampy location), poor ticket sales and technical issues, the park closed for good in 1999.
Many of the ren faire’s dressings and accoutrements were moved to REC’s other parks – they own renaissance fairs in various locations around the U.S. – but the structures remained, left to fade ingloriously back into the Earth. It’s most recent owner purchased the land for $1.3 million some years ago and filed for bankruptcy in 2013. It is presently for sale. Yes, if you’d like your very own abandoned Renaissance festival, you can have it for six or seven million dollars.
Full disclosure: You probably don’t want to go here. No trespassing signs are clearly posted all over the entryway and the site is leased out to a hunting club, which actively uses it. During a recent visit, I was not-so-politely asked by a local to get out of the place – I believe “CAN YOU READ?” were his exact words – and a sheriff’s deputy was waiting for me at my car. Seriously. Don’t go. If you do, know that you’re breaking the law (and wear some orange.)
Walking up the pathway onto the property, the first thing you’ll see is a long, badly decomposed set of ticket windows. Vines, bramble and fallen tree limbs block much of the pathway into the park, but it remains relatively passable – previous visitors seem to have matted down a nice trail.
Passing under an archway, a quick scramble up an embankment leads you to an absolutely breathtaking view of the park. Standing on the banks of a small pond, you get a good feeling of how big the place really is – castle-like structures and multi-story tudor facades are visible as far as the eye can see. To your right, the jousting field has been overtaken by weeds, but the track is still clearly visible.
And straight ahead is the park’s most unique feature: a pirate ship that extends into the water. Though not technically a ship – the vessel is actually just an extension of the dock it’s moored to – it plays the part well. It seems to have aged particularly well, its paint and woodwork rotting away in a manner that makes it seem more authentic than it ever really was.
Heading back down the hill, it takes about 30 or 40 minutes to tour the grounds. Though most of the signage has fallen away, it’s pretty clear what most of the buildings were used for. The abandoned fair has all of the hallmarks of any one still in operation – booths for arts and crafts, food stands with kegs and taps still relatively intact. An axe-throwing area sits next to a row of stables, and wooden hitching posts jut out of the ground in an area likely used for pony rides.
Further up the path, you emerge into an open pasture, with rows of shops on either side. An old sign still hangs above one. “The Luthier,” it reads. “Musical Instruments by Ken and Andrea Rogers.” Press deeper into the woods still and you’ll see buildings in the distance that can’t even be accessed – the woods have completely enveloped them. This is a truly strange, fairytale-like place.
What’s most striking about the abandoned ren faire is how little it’s been vandalized. Maybe it’s too far removed from the city for the average idiot to access, or maybe the risk of arrest scares most would-be-vandals away. Either way, graffiti is nearly non-existent on the property, a refreshing change from other sites of rural and urban decay that have been desecrated by any number of visitors.
And hopefully it stays that way. Surely, a developer will scoop this parcel of land up and level all of what’s left of the ren faire – but until then, let’s hope it remains intact.
Close your eyes in remembrance, and let your mind drift away: the dulcet tones of “Greensleeves” float effortlessly on the breeze. They’re played by ren faire performer Jareth (real name: Ken) who also works at Blockbuster. The aroma of turkey legs and fried macaroni and cheese wedges is intoxicating, and – just for a moment – you wish you could cut the pirate ship away from its moorings and sail peacefully away into the night air, never to return.
