A Viking Encounter

Two years ago, while camping and cycling in France, my wife Sarah and I met a couple who’d soon become more than just fellow campers. I spotted a tall, slender fellow and tossed out a casual “hello.” We quickly exchanged introductions, and he came to be known as “The Mighty Wim from the North.” Then I met Lydia. She was an absolute delight, radiating a warmth that felt refreshingly... un-Viking-like.

There was something about Wim that immediately clicked with me. His razor-sharp humor and playful sarcasm are what attracted me. That day, Wim had no clue he’d met his match. We dove headfirst into a banter-fest, sparring over everything from politics to religion, all in good fun. Within hours, he’d dubbed me “Napoleon” because, well, he towered over me like a Nordic giant. Not exactly the best way to charm an American stranger, but let’s be honest—Vikings aren’t known for their etiquette. Funny thing is neither am I!

I introduced Sarah to Wim and Lydia and she immediately knew that Wim was navigating by a different compass, but his charm was undeniable. Lydia, on the other hand, won Sarah over instantly with her princess-like grace—kind, gentle, and not a hint of the Viking energy.

Sarah and I were half way into a tandem bicycle adventure across Europe, packing light as we pedaled through picturesque landscapes. Then we met Wim and Lydia, they were lounging in fancy camping chairs they’d hauled along. I was intrigued and asked Wim about his throne-like seat, which he rocked back and forth in with the swagger of a Viking conqueror. He was very proud of that chair, and it became the centerpiece of our banter for the next few hours....and months.

While Sarah and I sat cross-legged on the ground like mere mortals, Wim lorded over us, gleefully reminding us that he had a chair and we didn’t.

The next morning, we parted ways, but not before Wim and Lydia extended an invitation to visit them in the Netherlands. 

The seeds of friendship had been planted, all thanks to a chair and some good-natured humor. A month later, we took them up on their offer and spent three glorious days in their home. The Mighty Wim and the impossibly sweet Lydia welcomed us with open hearts, cementing their place in our lives. We laughed, we shared stories, and we marveled at how a chance encounter in a French campground could spark such a bond.

Last Christmas, Sarah and I finally bought our own camping chairs, but now I have new probleml—Wim  "sits" head and shoulders above me. Maybe there’s a smidge of truth to my “Napoleon complex”. Beneath all that Viking bravado, though, is a genuinely good man I’m proud to call a friend. You never know where a few words over a camping chair might lead, but I am truly glad we took the time to find out.

Scott (Napoleon)