Chasing Raven
The Longship Company sails (or, as you see here, beats against the wind with oars and doughty crew) in the tidal waters off the southern Potomac River (St. Clements Bay). Sae Hrafn's (Sea Raven) mission is a kind of living archaeological discovery... as in how did the Vikings make this thing work anyway?!?! While the crew is experienced in sailing, ships, and nautical knowledge, as well as Viking history, there is always something new that the histories and sagas didn't tell us. We invite all and sundry to come ro...er...sail with us (free, donations are cool if you can).
This is one expedition in which I chased Raven in my sea kayak, catching stills and video. In a contest of arctic tribesmen vs Vikings, Inuit win. With a modern (presumably less efficient) plastic version of the northern hunting and fishing kayak, I can literally paddle circles around Sae Hrafn under oars, and generally keep up with her under sail. On this day (Captain's Log: 2012.09.22) I passed her as we beat into the wind heading toward St. Clements' Island (formerly known as Blackistone Island, as our Captain, Bruce Blackistone attests).
Then someone said something like "Want to scout ahead?"
"Sure." Git'm up Scout. I took a compass course reading, plunged into wind and waves and Blackistone Island grew g...r...a...d...u...a...l...l...y larger. And of course, rather like when Tonto goes into town on a mission, and trouble finds him, I looked back and the Lone Ranger was nowhere in sight.
No ship. Nowhere.
Of course she had given up struggling into the wind and turned around (the crew IS the backup engine). I got a call on my cell phone (hard to answer in three foot waves). I paddled around the island, trying to find a landing. And a potti. I found the beach below the lighthouse, hauled the 'yak up out of the reach of wave and tide.
The phone rang.
I tried to answer it... and the ensuing conversation went like something out of a sit-com.
Me: Hello? HELLO???"
Them: (happy little cell phone ring tone)...
Me: HELLO!!!
(random static, "I"... eakin... ho..."
Me: ?????
Them: cheerful ringtone...
Me: "Whut???"
I am in the middle of the flattest piece of territory in North America (southern Maryland and the southern Potomac with vast stretches of flatness and water) and I can't get a signal. I move up the beach to the lighthouse and finally get a signal. The ship has wisely turned back for calmer water... and raised sail.
Which means I will not catch her on this wind.
Fine, I have a compass course. I return to the kayak, check my compass... and am staring at two large bodies of water stretching away before me: two bays, and we came down one of them.
Which one to go back up? (swings compass; left, right, left right, leftright). Looks like the left one. I go, paddling through some fairly exciting waves. Somewhere in the midst of slightly less wave action, I call the ship, and check my bearings...
(crackle...mumble... snork... crackle) "We don't have buoy marker blah blah on our charts."
It exists, I am sitting in front of it. My boat is blue but it is not a Tardis, I'm pretty sure I didn't fly through any time/space warps.
(crackle, rustle, charts being examined), "Oh, here it is..." Then follows a description of where I need to go to find the creek we rowed out of. None of this matches the landscape I am looking at. (the creek is well hidden by the treeline and can't be seen from that point on the water). Following the ship, it seemed as if we had rowed/paddled down one long stretch of water, instead, it was a smaller creek feeding into a larger bay. I set out, looking for Canoe Neck Creek, and finding a lot of stuff that isn't, including a landing with Civilization, where nobody is home except a very loud, invisible, deep voiced guard dog behind a very tall fence. I flee. Out in the middle of the bay is a boat, the first one I have seen in some time, it is a sailboat, under motor power. I shriek at them with my whistle and paddle toward them. As with most people on the water, they are helpful, giving me directions to the creek. It is now near sunset, and still a long way.
"You want us to throw you a line?"
Oh yeah, I have no idea who you are, you might be pirates or something, but at this point, I need a tow. They tie my bow to their line with the reassurance, "We won't get 'er up on plane or anything..." (motorboats plane, coming up out of the water at fast speeds, sailboats do not).
I make it back to the creek and the dock before dark, vowing to take charts next time. In these kinds of waters, you definitely need a compass, charts, survival gear (PFD, bilge pump, water, snacks, whistle, extra clothing layers)(oh, and a cell phone). Here are some pics from the adventure. Those from outside the ship are mine, others by Capn' Dave Tristan.
more at http://longshipco.org/
This is one expedition in which I chased Raven in my sea kayak, catching stills and video. In a contest of arctic tribesmen vs Vikings, Inuit win. With a modern (presumably less efficient) plastic version of the northern hunting and fishing kayak, I can literally paddle circles around Sae Hrafn under oars, and generally keep up with her under sail. On this day (Captain's Log: 2012.09.22) I passed her as we beat into the wind heading toward St. Clements' Island (formerly known as Blackistone Island, as our Captain, Bruce Blackistone attests).
Then someone said something like "Want to scout ahead?"
"Sure." Git'm up Scout. I took a compass course reading, plunged into wind and waves and Blackistone Island grew g...r...a...d...u...a...l...l...y larger. And of course, rather like when Tonto goes into town on a mission, and trouble finds him, I looked back and the Lone Ranger was nowhere in sight.
No ship. Nowhere.
Of course she had given up struggling into the wind and turned around (the crew IS the backup engine). I got a call on my cell phone (hard to answer in three foot waves). I paddled around the island, trying to find a landing. And a potti. I found the beach below the lighthouse, hauled the 'yak up out of the reach of wave and tide.
The phone rang.
I tried to answer it... and the ensuing conversation went like something out of a sit-com.
Me: Hello? HELLO???"
Them: (happy little cell phone ring tone)...
Me: HELLO!!!
(random static, "I"... eakin... ho..."
Me: ?????
Them: cheerful ringtone...
Me: "Whut???"
I am in the middle of the flattest piece of territory in North America (southern Maryland and the southern Potomac with vast stretches of flatness and water) and I can't get a signal. I move up the beach to the lighthouse and finally get a signal. The ship has wisely turned back for calmer water... and raised sail.
Which means I will not catch her on this wind.
Fine, I have a compass course. I return to the kayak, check my compass... and am staring at two large bodies of water stretching away before me: two bays, and we came down one of them.
Which one to go back up? (swings compass; left, right, left right, leftright). Looks like the left one. I go, paddling through some fairly exciting waves. Somewhere in the midst of slightly less wave action, I call the ship, and check my bearings...
(crackle...mumble... snork... crackle) "We don't have buoy marker blah blah on our charts."
It exists, I am sitting in front of it. My boat is blue but it is not a Tardis, I'm pretty sure I didn't fly through any time/space warps.
(crackle, rustle, charts being examined), "Oh, here it is..." Then follows a description of where I need to go to find the creek we rowed out of. None of this matches the landscape I am looking at. (the creek is well hidden by the treeline and can't be seen from that point on the water). Following the ship, it seemed as if we had rowed/paddled down one long stretch of water, instead, it was a smaller creek feeding into a larger bay. I set out, looking for Canoe Neck Creek, and finding a lot of stuff that isn't, including a landing with Civilization, where nobody is home except a very loud, invisible, deep voiced guard dog behind a very tall fence. I flee. Out in the middle of the bay is a boat, the first one I have seen in some time, it is a sailboat, under motor power. I shriek at them with my whistle and paddle toward them. As with most people on the water, they are helpful, giving me directions to the creek. It is now near sunset, and still a long way.
"You want us to throw you a line?"
Oh yeah, I have no idea who you are, you might be pirates or something, but at this point, I need a tow. They tie my bow to their line with the reassurance, "We won't get 'er up on plane or anything..." (motorboats plane, coming up out of the water at fast speeds, sailboats do not).
I make it back to the creek and the dock before dark, vowing to take charts next time. In these kinds of waters, you definitely need a compass, charts, survival gear (PFD, bilge pump, water, snacks, whistle, extra clothing layers)(oh, and a cell phone). Here are some pics from the adventure. Those from outside the ship are mine, others by Capn' Dave Tristan.
more at http://longshipco.org/
