In 1996, professional photographer Paul Cunningham made the long drive down a narrow peninsula and onto Hermit Island in Phippsburg, Maine, to the boat shop of Rob Stevens to record the building of a Viking knarr later christened Snorri. Throughout the seven-month process, Cunningham revisited the site many times, curiosity having gotten the better of him. Many people were bitten by the same bug. So many, in fact, that Stevens had to post a "sorry, but we do not have time to talk" sign so that Snorri would be finished on schedule. But a picture says a thousand words, and Cunningham's photos, taken with decades of journalism experience, say volumes about the ingenuity, skill, and patience of a small band of boat builders who, out of wood and iron, created a sea-worthy vessel, the likes of which had not been seen in the light of day for a thousand years.
Building a Viking Ship in Maine: Photo Essay
In 1996, professional photographer Paul Cunningham made the long drive down a narrow peninsula and onto Hermit Island in Phippsburg, Maine, to the boat shop of Rob Stevens to record the building of a Viking knarr later christened Snorri. Throughout the seven-month process, Cunningham revisited the site many times, curiosity having gotten the better of him. Many people were bitten by the same bug. So many, in fact, that Stevens had to post a "sorry, but we do not have time to talk" sign so that Snorri would be finished on schedule. But a picture says a thousand words, and Cunningham's photos, taken with decades of journalism experience, say volumes about the ingenuity, skill, and patience of a small band of boat builders who, out of wood and iron, created a sea-worthy vessel, the likes of which had not been seen in the light of day for a thousand years.