Too many unstable words are spoken
by him who ne'er holds his peace;
the hasty tongue sings its own mishap
if it be not bridled in.
Håvamål 29
Wisdom for Wanderers and Counsel to Guests
"Dost know how to write, dost know how to read,
dost know how to paint, dost know how to prove,
dost know how to ask, dost know how to offer,
dost know how to send, dost know how to spend?."
Håvamål 143
Odin's Quest after the Runes
Kon Turkey
"Never set a child afloat on the flat sea of life with only one sail to catch the wind."
D. H. Lawrence
(1885-1930)
Sailing! A magic word if there ever was one. To be pushed along by the wind across the open expanse of the sea. Taken where ever the fancy strikes you. Go anywhere, see everything. Have a great adventure. Have two, or three or... Well, you get the picture.
Sea faring traditions
Sailing! The word alone makes your imagination fire on all synapses. Especially if you grow up in an environment with rich maritime traditions and get spoon fed from an early age with all the lore of the sea and the legends of the past. With us, growing up on the coast in Norway, our sea faring forebears were first and foremost the Vikings, but it sure didn't end there. Our's was always a sea going nation. From our forests came the timbers for countless ships. Spars of Norway spruce traveled the globe for centuries and have been sought after by boat builders right up into our own times.
Pretty much the same can be said for the rest of Scandinavia. We all share very much a common history. The merchant and fishing fleets have always been a mainstay of our economies. The first serious ships most kids saw were typically fishing vessels. That's how it was with us, anyway.
Modern boats
Of course, the sailing ship era was long gone by the time my pals and I appeared on the scene. Our neighbor's was a pine planked, straight stemmed, diesel powered vessel. A very distinct design which you'll find all over the coast anywhere in Scandinavia. They carry masts for cargo transfer and gear handling, not for sailing. Some will use a small mizzen sail for riding to wind and weather, but that is all. None of that mattered to us. All we saw was a powerful symbol of independence and freedom.
A road without ditches
Go anywhere any time. That really got our imagination going when we reached about 8-9 or so years of age. That we could relate to. Whenever that fish boat steamed out we wanted to go, too. The sea now took on a new meaning. It became a really big road. With no ditches. And we wanted to check it out.
The problem sinks home
There was one problem. No boat. This was unbearable and totally unacceptable. Something had to be done. We started surveying our options. We were four pairs of eyes looking for anything that might conceivably hold water long enough to pass as a boat. We weren't particular, either. I recall an early experiment with an old wooden bed frame. It was low of free board and impossible to caulk. Barely held one person and was tippy to a fault. Somebody would surely die and miss the adventure. So we moved on.
Kon Tiki
We all knew of Kon Tiki, the famous balsa raft built by our fellow countryman Thor Heyerdal and sailed across the Pacific to prove a point. I had read the book many times and promoted the idea vigorously. Maybe we could build a raft like Thor's. Of course, we weren't going to Peru any time soon, so balsa was out. We knew from past expeditions that there'd be hell to pay if we cut down as much as one more tree anywhere near we could think of. However, there was one possibility.
Raw material
At a bend in the road leading down to our beach there was this log pile. It was sort of a fixture, had always been there. No-one ever seemed to add to it or take away from it. It was outside the fence and therefore under ambiguous ownership. That log pile immediately took on new properties. It was declared homeless and destined for a new purpose. We counted the logs carefully, debated how much could be removed without anyone really noticing. Then we went for it.
Oops
We ran into a nasty problem right out of the starting gate. Those logs were pine or spruce, about 10-12 inches or so thick and probably about 10-12 feet long. And they were heavy. Much heavier than we had imagined. We simply couldn't carry them, even four of us to a log. Hm. What to do?
Some bright soul, I don't know who, came up with a solution. We scrounged the wheel sets from two baby carriages. Should be easy sailing since it was downhill all the way to the beach. Way we went and tied one on. We straddled the log, thinking we could steer with our feet. Shouldn't be that hard. Then we pushed off.
Gravity rules
Gravity took it from there. This sucker had a life of its own and took us with it. True enough, the terrain was generally downhill towards the beach. The snag was the road had turns which is not accounted for by Newton's third law. And we were firmly in the grip of Newton by now. Tracking straight and true in the middle of the road, picking up speed with a sharp left turn looming straight ahead. Elation was turning to regret. Who's lousy idea was this anyway?
Bailing out
We were reaching the point of no return. Get off and get hurt some, or stay on and get hurt worse. Everybody bailed and the log shot off and ditched in a cloud of dust. We peeled off the gravel and surveyed the situation. Better than expected, nobody died. The wheel sets had taken a beating, but were deemed fit for further service. Getting the log back on the road was another matter all together. After considerable contortions, we succeeded and ran smack into the next snag. How to load the sucker on an incline without loosing control of the whole shebang. A rock pile before the wheels finally did the trick and we were ready for take off again. In theory. In practice, nobody wanted to take off. Not like the first time.
Point and shoot
We had two more turns to make and the road was steep right to the end. Riding the log was suicide, that much was clear. In the end we settled on the obvious. Point and shoot. We aimed for a likely spot down at the bend and pushed the log off to make tracks on its own. This was cool. Side bets were taken on the expected point of impact. Nobody ever considered what would happen if a car turned up to meet our missile. Lucky for us, none came.
Sea trial
Somehow we managed to struggle the log down to the beach. At long last we had one log in position. We took a well earned rest and debated the inevitable question. How many of these heavy suckers would we actually need? The opinions ranged. A test was in order. Let's find out what this one can support. So out to sea with it.
That was easier said than done. As soon as the first wheel set hit the sand we bogged down. From there on it was a struggle to the end. Heave and ho, inches at a time until we were in the water. We untied the log, put or hands on it, counted out the customary one, two, three, push, and flipped the log off. We waited expectantly for the log to bob back up to the surface.
Surprise, surprise
Fat chance. It sank like a rock. After countless years, the wood had become waterlogged and half rotted. Then reality finally sank in. Literally as well as figuratively. We could never hope to build a raft from something like that. Our Kon Tiki was more properly a Kon Turkey. We were back to square one less the rafting option.
