Disarmed II
Chapter II: From the Ashes, a Dragon
Meanwhile, on shore, Liz—my girlfriend and partner of many years—was minding the museum, still unaware of what was happening, when Herger came in to reassure her.
“They’re okay, don’t worry.”
“What? What do you—what do you mean they’re okay? What’s going on?” she asked.
Herger explained that there had been an incident with the boat, that somebody had found us, and that the Coast Guard was bringing us in too. Without missing a beat, he launched straight into hero mode.
“Oh, by the way, do you happen to know how long the yardarm is and what it’s made of?”
As Liz wrestled with all the possibilities—how the Coast Guard, our being found, and our being okay all fit together—little intrusive realizations crept in, like this was why Velent and I were late for the Shield Wall performance.
She did her best to be helpful, guessing the yardarm was about ten to fourteen feet long, and noting that if it had snapped in half, it must be hollow.
Herger immediately got to work.
“Oh, okay. Well, maybe I can find a branch or something off my property, bring it down, and get it ready for when they come in. Then we can get the boat up and running again.”
Before she could ask about that last part, Herger had an epiphany.
“Oh wait—no, no. I got a better plan.” he stated and headed back toward the docks.
Right about then, the rescue “fleet” arrived at the docks with the Sieann in tow. The captain of the mini-yacht dropped us off with incredible precision, at the perfect angle and speed—pulling away without ever coming to a full stop or giving us time to properly thank them.
Hrafna and I were so fried that—even though we were staring at it the entire ride back—we can’t remember the name of the boat.
Baldr remembers that the owner-captain’s name is Mark.
If anyone reading this knows who we’re talking about, please send them our way.
By the time we got ourselves fully docked, Herger was already back outside, shouting to us:
“What are the dimensions of that thing?”
With no idea and no remaining energy to think, we shouted back that we’d bring the broken pieces ashore and measure them.
Before we could, I was nearly tackled by Liz, who looked like she had been on the boat with us—but in far worse conditions. It was incredibly sweet and very welcome. She had also made it outside in time to witness what she would later call our “boat walk of shame.”
Bjarke and I unloaded the boat and brought the yardarm ashore… and then promptly found the nearest horns for the crew. With the measurements in hand, Herger ran off to enact his plan.
Mitsy, who spent the most exciting parts of the ride sitting calmly on the deck next to Velent’s sea chest (you forgot about the dog, right? Yeah, there was a little lap dog on board this whole time), escorted Velent back to their tent to decompress.
Baldr, shaken enough that the adrenaline had finally worn off, asked Liz if he could head home and chill out for a bit. She said “of course” being that it was weird for him to ask her this in the first place, but he’s a polite kid with good instincts. According to her, he immediately shed his Viking gear and got into his street clothes. I had no idea—he held it together right up to that point.
The whole crew seemed content to spread out and find their own corner to regroup and start telling the tale.
When Herger returned and started unloading tools and materials out in the middle of the village, no one seemed to notice right away so when Liz happened to walk by he excitedly stopped her.
“Hey, hey, hey—come over here. Check it out.”
He had gone to Home Depot and picked up a length of conduit pipe, fittings, eye bolts—everything needed to replace the yardarm.
“I’m just gonna whip it up over here and fix it real quick.”
Liz could hardly believe it.
“Are you kidding me right now? I gotta find Paul.”
She found Bjarke first, mid-conversation, crept up behind him, and whispered in his ear:
“I hate to break this to you, but it’s very important that I speak with you.”
“What is happening?” he asked as she grabbed him and pointed him toward Herger.
“This is happening.”
Soon after, she found me and repeated the reveal, and together we set to work cutting, sizing, and outfitting the replacement.
In less than an hour, we had a brand-new yardarm.
Liz says there were hugs and tears, and I can neither confirm nor deny this, but I will tell you that it saved the whole weekend so yeah, we felt that.
While all of that was happening, Hrafna had gone straight to the nearest—and most appropriately named—boat supply store, Longship Marine.
Determined, and still a little pissed, they returned with pulleys, jam cleats, and line for braces to attach to the new yardarm, giving us control over it.
This is how we all learned that every square-rigged ship have always included bracing lines to control their yardarms.
And now you have too.
We spent the rest of that night thanking and hugging everyone involved, telling anyone within earshot the tale and, of course, drinking healthy amounts mead.
The next morning, Jorunn of Nordic Trader, the Hrafngardr Viking Alliance group and Sea Wolf crew member sewed up a rip in the foot of the sail. She had previously done the initial restoration, adding all new grommets and reinforced corners.
Vhaldis of the Spokane-based Solhjamer Viking Alliance group used the bracing line off-cuts to reinforce the foot of the sail where it had torn.
Hrafna, Bjarke and I finished rigging the boat with the new yardarm, cleats and pulleys.
Within a few hours, the Sieann was not just repaired, but more capable—and safer—than she had been before.
We spent the rest of the weekend sailing with friends, with little to no further incident.
On an unrelated note; the Poulsbo Police had heard about our tale, and we were more than happy to fill in the gaps.
The officers assigned to Viking Fest were appropriately built like Vikings but were also incredibly friendly—so much so that they gave us one of their badge patches.
They have, hands-down, the best badges in the business.
And of course, we made friends with the Coast Guard, who let us help bring one of their cutters into port, the Terrapin.
We even met the skipper and some of her crew.
Below is a video of us sailing the next day, taken from the Terrapin spotting us with her thermals. It is easily one of the coolest things I’ll ever see.
The whole weekend was wild. And harrowing. And inspiring.
And it was just the beginning—not just of the weekend and of the Sea Wolves and all of the Voyages we were about to embark on, but it also saw the start of friendships and partnerships and Viking ships...
That weekend, the truth of the old adage “It takes a village” was made undeniably clear to us. We witnessed first-hand proof that when people take care of each other selflessly, there is very little that cannot be accomplished.
And that weekend in particular we learned that sometimes, in extreme cases when the weather turns foul and your ship is on her beam ends…
it takes a Viking Village.
Epilogue
As of writing this in early 2026, we have since sailed her nearly 50 times.
We have been towed a total of four times counting this one, and we are still without a motor.
There are many more stories from that weekend—like how my sword got its name, and how an all-female crew became, and still remains, the best rowing team we’ve ever had on board.
But those are other sagas.
