August 16: an important day for the crew of the Viking Voyage. Andy, our skipper, arrived to the airport with three enormous duffel bags, filled with gear and knives. The crew is steadily assembling.
Saeny the Red, Andy and I took our giant mound of luggage onto a bus, and made our way to Torshavn to get the ferry to Sudroy, the southernmost island of the Faroes. We hauled our luggage upstairs at the ferry terminal to wait for the ferry, only to find out it would leave in 2 hours. So we left our luggage there and went for a walk in Torshavn. After a strange bowl of ramen, and a lot of laughs, we got back to the terminal. Our luggage was all still there. As mentioned, the Faroe Islands have more sheep than people, making for a peaceful existence here, so we had no concerns that anyone would try to steal any of it.
The ferry docked in a location different than its usual one, so the ferry officials, upon noticing that we had more luggage than we could carry, provided a cage into which we put our luggage, and a forklift zipped it off into the ferry.
Andy explained a few important principles of sailing, winds, and waves. The higher you go, the stronger the winds. Our boat is not very tall and neither are its sails, so the winds will be less intense than if we were to sail a taller boat with big sails. And secondly, he explained “fetch” which is the concept behind wave formation. If the wind blows in a specific direction for a certain amount of time, you can calculate the exact size of the waves that will form many kilometers away. By monitoring the winds, their direction, and so on, we can intelligently decide when to set sail for Norway. The more you know, the more you can control and do.
A few minutes before the ferry docked at Suduroy, Saeny the Red found a newspaper laying on a table, so she curiously turned it over, and lo and behold, our crew was on the first page ! Even though only half the crew has arrived, we made the first page of the biggest national newspaper on the Faroe Islands! We had a big laugh, and made our way off the boat.
Ernst, and Gudmund, both members of the boat club picked us up. Ernst told me that when he went on his voyages aboard Naddoddur, he ate dried fish and whale meat, and whale blubber. I hope our diet is a little bit different than this.
We arrived to the boat house, greeted by Johann, the builder of Naddoddur. The boathouse men prepared the space for us, providing mattresses and sleeping bags, and fresh baked bread with cheese and salami, coffee and tea.
The boathouse itself is a work of art, made entirely of wood, and decorated with boat tools and items.
Andy took me outside and showed me Naddoddur, our boat, and I stepped in. What a feeling. It’s thrilling to know that this will be the vessel in which we cross the North Sea. It’s beautiful. The craftsmanship is precise and gorgeous. The boathouse men built a small shelter, a few feet long, at the aft to provide an area where two people can sleep or rest in shifts. I asked Johann some questions about Naddoddur, and then he and the three other boathouse men, Gudmund and Bergur, and Ernst, came upstairs and we sat around a table, drinking coffee and tea and talking for hours.
Ernst, a contemplative man with bushy eyebrows, a robust potbelly, and eyes with a far off gaze, silently looked at me for awhile, and then asked, “What experience do you have with boats?” So I told him about my limited experience in sailing the calm waters near my house, and that my role would not be to sail Naddoddur. His eyes grew big as his bushy eyebrows raised on his forehead, and he answered, “This is not a charter boat. This is serious. You know, I could never see you again.”
So I said, “I hope you do!” He proceeded to tell me a story about a crew mate he had on one of his voyages aboard Naddoddur, who was 2 meters tall, and had no brains. When he rowed, he chafed the wooden boards because of how idiotically he rowed, and his butt was bleeding. Then he told us that this man had previously robbed a bank: the first and only bank robber at the Faroe Islands. After the laughs died down from the rest of us, listening to this story, he said to me, “Do you know where he is now?”
I said, “Jail?” More laughs.
He said, “No, now he is a transvestite living in Denmark.”
So I told him, “Ernst, I may not be big and strong, but I’m NOT stupid, I’m NOT a robber, and I’m NOT a transvestite!”
The conversation ended in an uproar of laughing, and turned to other topics.
The more I spend time here, ironically, the less concerned I am for our North Sea crossing. We have prepared for every scenario, practiced and planned for the voyage, studied the weather extensively, and we all have a positive attitude—and this takes you further in life than almost anything else.
Tomorrow, the bottom floor of the boat house will be full of boathouse old men, who come drink coffee and eat pastries every morning together.
I’m considering making an appearance with Saeny the Red.
I leave you with more Viking wisdom, as an encouragement to go challenge your own barriers and push boundaries.
“No battle is won in bed. Go you must.”
Your Loyal Viking Archeologist and Official Stowaway,
Karla
