My friend OD and I had been camping on a spoil island in Tampa Bay for an entire 4-day weekend. A thick fog hit on the last day and we delayed returning for as long as we could, visibility had been reduced to about 200 feet. But by that evening, it showed no signs of lifting and we decided to try and find our way home in the fog and dark anyway. We had jobs and classes to go to in the morning and we had to trust in our ability to return by dead reckoning alone.

Laying out our course on the chart, and trusting in our compass, we shoved off into the darkness. The wind was light, and the little boat was ghosting along along under full sail barely fast enough to maintain steerageway. There wasn't much else to do but keep track of our course, estimate our speed, and keep an eye open for the few markers and buoys along our way home that would confirm our navigation. We used the opportunity to finish off our stash on the way back...Cheech and Chong at sea!

The boat was small enough to not require navigation lights by law, but we had little fear of running into anyone. This was the time before GPS, so we didn't expect to see anyone else out on the water. But about an hour out, I heard the sound of a big diesel coming out of the fog. We were not alone! It scared us straight in no time flat. The put-put of a motor was unmistakeable, and it was getting louder, we thought we could hear voices, and in the fog, whoever it was would be on us with no warning. We looked around in all directions, and tried to gauge the direction of the sound, but it was impossible. And we were traveling so slowly it would be difficult to maneuver out of the way if the stranger suddenly stumbled onto us.

Suddenly I could see it, a dim glow of light in the mist to starboard, in a few moments it resolved itself into red, white and green lights. He was coming directly at us! My trusty crew sprang into action. We shined our spotlight onto the sail so he could see us, and blew on the police whistle we always carried. For what seemed a long time it appeared there was no response, but eventually the green light disappeared as the stranger cut across our bows, less than a hundred feet in front of us.

We watched in amazement as the ghost ship passed us. It's outline was unmistakeable, even in the dim glow of the lights. It was a Viking long ship! It carried the graceful curving dragon's head, the colorful shields hung on the bulwarks, and the tall mast. The sail was furled onto its spars and lowered onto the deck. We could see dim figures and hear voices on deck, and some were waving at us as she glided past and disappeared into the fog off our port bow. OD was still pointing the light at the sail (you never shine a light at an oncoming boat, it can blind their helmsman) , and the look on his face was priceless. He shook his head and said "Far out, Buzz. Look at that DUDE!"

All the way back we wondered; not what a Viking long ship was doing in Tampa Bay, but why it had running lights and a motor! The next day we got our answer on the TV news: a group of Norwegian Sea Scouts had sailed the boat across the Atlantic and were doing a good will tour of the US Atlantic Coast.