Games and Toys

I have not written about wooden toys in a while and have not written about chess or other games in a really long time so I thought I would write about some of the games that live at the Wheelhouse.

            First, another chess set. My brother found a cool ceramics place out in New Mexico where he lives, where you can come into the shop and can pick out ceramic pieces that are already bisque fired; paint them with supplies provided by the shop. The shop then fires your pieces for you and gives you a call when they are ready. My brother saw these chess pieces and thought it would make a great project. He painted the chess pieces and went home and made a neat chess board/table that he gave to me for the Celtic Wheelhouse. He went further, put a backgammon board on the reverse side of the board/table, and made the interior into storage space for the pieces. It is such a great gift and a clever project.

            Next, is a Viking game I picked up many years ago in York while on a trip to England and Scotland. The game is a modern version, the pieces made of plastic, based on actual wood and or ivory pieces excavated at York. The game was popular in medieval Europe before chess was widely known. Sometimes called Hnefatafl, it is becoming popular again. The only problem with the game is that the box it came in fell apart and I was afraid of losing the pieces. My solution was to make a cedar box that looked like it might have been a made by the original players of Hnefatafl.

  

            Hounds and Jackals is a game that was popular in ancient Egyptian times. I saw an original in the Metropolitan Museum in New York made of ivory. I made a sketch in the museum of the board, counted the number of pieces and holes, and then when I went home I made a version out of wood. I was teaching history of ancient civilizations at the time to ninth graders and when it was time to cover Egypt, I used to give them the copy of the game and ask them to look at it as an artifact. I was often amazed at how many correct deductions those ninth graders drew about the civilization that created the game based only what was in front of them. The other interesting observation I have, is that even though the game does not have any directions, kids in particular seem to have no difficulty figuring out how to play it. The only adaptation I have made is to substitute stick dice for the original knucklebone dice in the museum.

 

            I should say that I am not much of a board game person myself, but I really love having these games out for visitors to play with, and get great pleasure out of watching others play with these various games from other periods in human history.

Join the Athenian Navy and see the Edge of the World

During the Summer of 1988 I had a rare opportunity to combine my interest in travel, with my interests in experimental archaeology and the ancient world. I joined the ancient Athenian Navy.
           I had read a very interesting article about John Coats in WoodenBoat magazine, and how he and a group called the Trireme Trust was trying to build an actual 170 oar Trireme so that they could do a series of experiments to find out how it was rowed, how fast it would go, and how well it could maneuver. Cool.
           Several weeks later while reading another periodical, an advertisement caught my eye, it read: “Join the Athenian Navy and see the Edge of the World”.  It appeared the Trireme Trust were recruiting crew for the sea trials of the Trireme I had read about. The actual trials would take place in the Aegean Sea, near Athens. I made a phone call; and yes, I joined the ancient Athenian Navy over the phone.
           The 50 members of the crew from the United States met in Boston Massachusetts to spend a couple of days training as a group with the ship’s boats of the U.S.S. Constitution, and to fly out together for Greece. This alone was quite the exercise in cultural adjustment as we were going from training and experimenting with 19th century technology while under the jurisdiction of the modern U.S. Navy to training and experimenting with the technology of 250 BC while under the direct jurisdiction of the modern Hellenic Navy.
           The arrival at the naval base where we were stationed in Greece was very exciting, particularly as we got our first look at our ship, the Olympias. At 120 feet long, she had the appearance of both a thoroughbred and a predator. Jet lag seemed to dissipate as our excitement grew and we wondered allowed how, and if, we could get 170 oars rowing together. What would be our flank speed? How long could we maintain a constant cruising speed and what would that speed be?

           As is the case with any large-scale expedition involving a ship, there was some friction between certain personalities, there were a few malcontents, and even a few sea lawyers. However, what I remember the most were men and women from a multitude of backgrounds who were willing to put aside personal likes and dislikes and who were also willing to endure heat, lack of space, lack of privacy, and physical exhaustion in order put the goals of this archaeological experiment first.
           That summer of 1988 was remarkable, the previous summer, two weeks sea trials following the launch of Olympias, had provides few answers and a longer list of questions. We, the 88′ crew, had arrived with a punch list of experiments to execute with the goal of collecting some hard data that could then be examined and analyzed. 
           Because of my background in boat building, I got to be part of the repair crew as well as a Thranite (rower on the third, or top tier). After taking the ship out, the repair team would meet to mend the numerous things that can break on a wooden ship. Being part of that team turned out to be a wonderful learning opportunity because it allowed me a first hand look at some of the problem solving that went on after each rowing session.    

           I could fill an entire web log with stories from this adventure to Greece, but I will limit myself to a few observations that made a lasting impression on me.
           First, as we set about tackling one problem after another, I was impressed by how often the best solutions came from totally unexpected directions and were often proposed by people who had no preconceived notions about how this “should” work.
           Second, by far the most interesting people, with the most interesting ideas, were consistently the most humble and the least interested in credit.
           Third, the part that, for me anyway, was the most impressive was the combination of sound and motion that defined the Trireme underway. The motion of 170 oars lifting and falling in unison matched by a rhythmic deep booming sound made by all those oars coming down against the gunnels and tholepins at the same time makes a terrifically powerful impression, one that I have never seen adequately captured on film or video.

           By the way, the concept of keeping the rowers in time using a drum is pure Hollywood. A drum cannot compete with the deep rumble of oars rubbing on gunnels and tholepins. Through trial and error, we found that a flute is about the only sound that could penetrate the din below decks, which should not come as a surprise because, as our archeologists pointed out (after the fact), “auletes”, or flute players, were mentioned in ancient texts as part of Trireme crews.  

           In the end, the information we gathered left me astonished at how much can be accomplished with wood, leather, rope, and teamwork. We were able get 170 rowers, all three tiers, working together with a coordinated skill. We achieved flank speeds of better than nine knots, a cruising speed of seven knots with two tiers rowing and one tier resting, and we were able to maintain this speed for hours. With practice, we could board an entire crew of over two hundred officers, rowers, coaches and sailors, and get under way in less than fifteen minutes. If you are interested in the technical data, or more information you should check out the site of the Trireme Trust.