By カランドラカス from Kanagawa, Japan (dolphin’s dance) [CC-BY-2.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

One of the many similarities between me and James Lileks is that we both lecture on cruise ships. Well, technically I have lectured on cruise ships twice, in return for a discount, while he lectures repeatedly, and apparently gets comped for the whole thing. In other words, pretty much the same thing. Today he posted this final report from his Panama Canal cruise with Hugh Hewitt and David Allen White, and he mentioned watching dolphins swimming along with the ship.

This brought back memories, not of my two Norwegian cruises, but of a couple of my own boating experiences. I’m not an old salt, though I’m descended from North Sea fishermen, but I’ve had a couple moments on the salt water that make notable memories.

Back when I lived in Florida, I was a charter member of a Sons of Norway lodge (one which, I believe, is now defunct. I don’t think my departure for Minnesota was the chief cause). The Florida lodges have a tradition they call the Viking Regatta. Each lodge has its own “Viking boat,” and they learn to sail and row them, and hold an annual race.

The event is supposed to encourage friendly competition and sportsmanship. In my experience, the races generally ended in appeals to the judges, angry words, and hard feelings. However, I have a strong suspicion those problems were mostly our own crew’s fault. Things are probably much better since we ceased to be a force.

Our boats were all replicas of a Norwegian fishing boat called an åttring (eight-man boat), which looked something like this.

By Annar Thinn (E-mail from Annar Thinn.) [CC-BY-2.5 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.5)], via Wikimedia Commons

The boat in the picture is in fact a seksring, a six-oar model, so ours were a little bigger. Ours were made of fiberglass, not wood, molded from an actual wooden original. The mold, however, was apparently only formed from one side—the inside. The exterior was just smoothed fiberglass, lacking a keel, which made a considerable difference in the sailing qualities. An åttring isn’t actually a Viking boat—the chief difference is that it has a center rudder—but we dressed them up to look Vikingesque.

But that’s boat geek stuff. The story part is that we had to go out on Saturdays, whenever we could get together, and practice our rowing and square sailing. And there was one day, out on the Indian River (which is in fact a lagoon), when we sailed along under a stiff wind on a bright, sunny day, and suddenly there was a pod of dolphins leaping all about us, joyful in the sparkling spray. A moment I’ll remember till I die.

More recently, on my trip to L’Anse Aux Meadows, Newfoundland to see the Leif Eriksson site, I bought a ticket on a short “Viking cruise.” A fellow there owns (or owned at the time) a replica of a knarr (which you know, if you’ve read my books, is a Viking merchant ship), on which he took passengers for scenic tours. The thrill was somewhat diminished by the fact that we went on diesel power, and the whole boat had a legally mandated steel guard rail all around the gunwales, for safety, which completely spoiled the lines.

But at one point on the cruise, we were joined by whales. I don’t know the species. They were dark in color. They played with our boat as with a friend, dove and surfaced, and then went on their way (the Vikings used to call the sea “the whale road”).

I’ve got pictures, but they’re just pictures of troubled waters where a whale was two seconds ago.

I’ve got the memory, though.

Match that, Lileks!