Sailing a viking warship is the devil, it made being in Vancouver completely worthwhile for a day. I’m hooked. (I even got to steer). Left, right, the shore didn’t matter. We were in a longboat blackened with linseed oil, carved by hand, with a square sail, red and white. Oh, my soul, I’ve loved those ships since I was a child. I taught myself runes when I was eight, (wrote a book report in them once, got an F), read every Norse story I could get my hands on, can still recite all the myths off one by one, all the way from the start of the world to the upcoming Ragnarok which may have already happened, Freya crying to her white cats as they sped across the sky, all the apples fallen, the giants throwing ice.
I can’t go next weekend, as Dan‘s having me down to Seattle for a house-party, but the weekend after that, I’m going back.
FYI: The ship can’t sail without a minimum crew of seven, so if you’re even remotely interested, please come along. They try to go out every weekend, on Sundays if Saturday weather falls through, and both days in the summer. Prepare to spend approximately two hours out on the water. As well, rowing isn’t half the terror you might think. It’s really quite relaxing, the entire thing.