vi_lattes.htmlTEXTMOS!EJFq0 Beyond Lands' End: Viking Voyage 1000

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Viking Ship
Viking Voyage Home
The Dream
Before the Launch
  Cast and Crew
  · Lisa Lattes
  · Barclay Jackson
  · Hodding Carter
  · Terry Moore, Captain
  · Robert Stevens, Master Boatbuilder
  · John Abbott
  · Doug Cabot
  · Homer Williams
  · Dean Plager
  · John Gardner
  - Allison Hepler
 
Getting Ready
  · The Food
  · The Gear
 
Reports from Greenland
  The Game
On the Voyage


Cast and Crew

 
From Lisa Lattes, wife of
Hodding Carter


Up until the spring of 1997, the Viking Project, as we have come to call it, was Hodding's baby. Sure, we had discussed the thing. And I like to think I helped him focus his ideas. I had edited his book proposal and fundraising proposal, then pointed him in the right general direction when it came to forming a not-for-profit corporation. I had prayed with him that a sponsor would get interested in his project, then celebrated with him when Lands' End made everything possible. We both talked to Rob Stevens on the phone, then drove down together to meet him for the first time in the summer of 1996. But this was always Hodding's thing - his work and his responsibility - even if, by default, I was placed on the board of directors of what we always called "his" foundation.

All of that changed, however, last spring when I quit my job and accompanied Hodding to Maine, where his Viking ship Snorri was finished, launched and tested. On my own - what was soon to become an all-too-familiar situation - I set out for Maine with our dogs and our then-fifteen-month-old twins, Anabel and Eliza. Hodding was to join us en route after returning from some journey or other.

A brutal welcome

Within hours of our arrival in Maine, a gracious neighbor decided that our gentle pair of lab-mix dogs were, in fact, coyotes who threatened his homestead. He shot and killed them. Compounding our loss was the fact that we experienced it under a certain amount of public scrutiny - both because of the outrageousness of our neighbor's behavior and because of the notoriety of Hodding's project.

Suddenly, with this brutal introduction and no adequate warning, we went from living semi-normal lives to being completely immersed in every aspect of this project. We lived and breathed the Viking Project from the moment we woke in the morning until we went to bed, only to dream of Viking ships or to lie awake worrying about everything Hodding might forget - which was certain to be the one thing that would save his life. The phone and fax lines were constantly busy. Hodding, a laid-back person by nature, was frantically running around sixteen hours a day, seven days a week, trying to get everything ready for a full-blown expedition, making sure everybody involved was happy, and learning some very basic things - like how to sail.

In the two months we lived in Maine, we had guests from New York, Boston, Michigan, Wisconsin, Mississippi, Louisiana, California, Virginia, West Virginia, Norway, Greenland and I'm sure some places I've left out. I found myself at various times in the roles of accountant, landlady, dorm mother, hostess, cook, secretary, chauffeur, legal advisor and bulk shopper. We, who had never before received an e-mail, were inundated with queries in every conceivable medium from friends, acquaintances and assorted Viking fanatics. Because I was not working at a normal job, I felt enormous pressure to be competent at everything I was doing - to be a good wife, mother, friend, sister, sister-in-law, daughter, daughter-in-law, neighbor, citizen, correspondent, you-name-it.

Some of our (Hodding's?) problems seemed particularly epic at the time - among them matters of insurance, shipping and airline tickets, not to mention the dreaded rudder.

And on top of it all, I was pregnant.

On to Greenland

When the twins and I left Maine to meet Hodding and crew in Boston, our family's Viking



Anabel and Eliza Carter

 
saga had only just begun. With the boat finally on the container ship, and with a stay at the Armed Forces YMCA in Charleston, MA, behind us, we headed back to Maine, then on to West Virginia where we scattered our dogs' ashes and spontaneously but ceremonially shaved our heads (just Hodding and I, not the twins). From there, our family of four and my brave sister Jain traveled to Greenland via Iceland. In Greenland, we and the crew spent two weeks at a youth hostel waiting for Snorri to arrive. She still wasn't there when we finally left Greenland. My memory of that time is of eating a lot of cheese while the twins asked repeatedly, "what's this" or "what's that," pointing at nothing in particular.

With all that was on his mind, Hodding's packing instructions to me had been a bit sketchy. I found myself in what is basically an unpaved country with only a pair of sandals. Greenland is a startlingly beautiful country where hiking is really the only thing to do. In my overblown condition, I did manage to hike seven hours to and from a glacier in my sister's running shoes. We also neglected to bring backpacks to carry the twins, having inexplicably opted instead for the stroller. We ended up carrying the twins on our shoulders everywhere we went. As Hodding and I were walking to the airport in Narsarsuaq, Greenland, for our final good-bye, I slid on some gravel in my sandals and fell to my knee, sacrificing a large chunk of the same rather than pitch Eliza headfirst into the permafrost.

The condition of my knee notwithstanding, our good-bye in Narsarsuaq was as painful as the airport's security was lax. We were both crying as we passed - literally through the airport's walls - Danish currency and special rocks from Greenland we had found and forgotten to give each other. If I allowed myself to really think about it, which I rarely did, I was very concerned for his safety in an open wooden boat in the near-freezing subarctic waters. I truly did not know when I would see Hodding again and I doubted that he would be there for our daughter's birth. With these stark facts in mind, we had chosen her name as we walked to the airport, flipping a coin for which - Miranda or Helen - would be her first name and which would be her middle name.

A year of unexpected rewards, changes and loss

I spent the rest of the summer traveling, eventually making it back to West Virginia and learning, as a suddenly-single parent, how to accomplish many difficult tasks on my own - only to have to readjust when Hodding returned.

As a family, we have been through a lot, but there are lots of unique aspects to the experiences of the past year. How many parents can claim that one of their child's first words was "Viking" or that the same child could identify a Viking ship at eighteen months? How many families get to spend as much time as we have spent together - even if a lot of it was spent driving, flying or killing time in hotels, on fishing piers and in piles of sawdust?

So much has changed in the past year. Our dogs were killed, boatbuilder and friend Bob Miller died in October and, in November, my grandmother died. But the crew and others associated with this project have become like family to me - a larger community of people
 

Lisa, Hodding and baby Helen

who have shared this unique experience. We literally have two new members of our immediate family. Helen Miranda was born on August 22, 1997, with her father miraculously present. Ginger, a dachshund/basset hound, came to live with us just days before Helen's birth.

Facing the challenges ahead

I cannot imagine what Norse women went through when their men went off "i viking." I'm sure life for them was difficult and uncertain, but every age has its own difficulties. This year I am back to my own work and my three girls and I are not traveling to Greenland. If all goes well and Hodding completes the voyage, he will be gone longer than his worst projection for last summer - three to four months. I am looking ahead to this summer with a certain amount of dread. I am anxious for Hodding to complete his journey, write his book and be done with all of this. I can't bear to think of all he's going to miss - Helen's first birthday, probably her first steps, our anniversary for the second year in a row and the countless minor moments that make up a shared life.

Nevertheless, I remain excited about this great adventure, and jealous that it is only Hodding - and not Hodding and I - who will be setting sail this July. I encourage Anabel and Eliza to dress up and "be" Vikings nearly every day.

   

 

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