By Martha Brummitt

Upon learning that the Vikings used wool sails, I wanted to see for myself what it would take to create one myself and then test it on the water and in the wind. My curiosity led to receiving a grant from the Minnesota State Arts Board in 2019 to weave a wool sail and to build a Norwegian pram. 

For some context and background leading up to sail-making component of this project, including a brief summary of building a wooden boat, click here to read an article from the February 2019 Norwegian Textile Letter, “Building a Norwegian Pram and Weaving a Wool Sail.” I would also like to point out that I received an immense amount of support, guidance and advice to complete this project and to maximize my learning.

In early 2019, Rach-Al-Paca Farms in Hastings, Minnesota, spun the wool to my specifications, which were based on research: z-twist warp and s-twist weft, both single ply, using long staple wool. I turned down an option to purchase wool from a Swedish farmer of Spelsau sheep, what was believed to dominate the wool used in sails during the Viking Age. In addition to a high price, the arrival time of the wool did not fit the constraints of the grant. The wool for the sail was sourced from a blend of long-fiber wool. After winding warp for a sample and for the sail at the Weavers Guild of Minnesota, I soon learned that not distinguishing the fibers between warp and weft was going to present some challenges. If I ever make a second wool sail, the warp must have long, strong guard hairs in it.

With the help of two experienced weavers, what might take two people about twenty minutes to beam the warp onto the loom took three of us multiple hours. The fine single ply yarn had ample twist energy and stuck to all of its neighboring warps. Over the course of many hours which turned into a few weeks, we forged ahead and threaded 392 warp ends on to the loom (14” wide, 28 ends per inch).

I wove only a few rows of weft until I had to stop. The sheds would not open well enough, warps stuck to each other and some broke. My options at this point were to: a) coat the warp with fish oil while on the loom in order to tame the “halo” or fuzz factor; b) bury the wool warp for a year in order to tame the twist energy and halo; c) a combination of a and b; or d) purchase commercial yarn that would weave nicely and full well. Options a, b and c were what the Vikings would have done, but I opted to not put a bunch of fish oil on the Toika loom I was renting and housing in my apartment, nor did I have the time to try option b. After considering many suggestions from other weavers, reviewing my notes and research, and consulting with my textile mentor Carol Colburn, I purchased double-ply cottolin (cotton and linen blend) yarn in about the same weight. Evidence shows the Vikings used linen and hemp to create sails, and I bet if they were around in today’s times, they would likely be sailing with dacron or the like. 

Back at the warping reel, I wound enough cottolin for another sample and wove about a yard of fabric, using the original wool weft. The sample contained three variations: plain weave and 2/2 twill with single and double strands of weft. When deciding to forgo wool warp and weave with cottolin instead, much speculation arose about whether or not the fabric would full well. Fulling is like felting–the scales on the fibers bind together, shrinking the fabric and creating a more windproof cloth. With my sample in tow, I marched to my bathtub full of hot water and started stomping on the cloth. To my delight, the sample fulled and shrunk really well. The single-weft 2/2 twill was the finest and tightest of the three weaves. In other words, it was the lightest and most windproof.

At this point, more cottolin yarn was on its way, ready to become part of a wool/cotton/linen sail. With approximately one hundred cumulative hours of winding warp, warping the loom, and weaving samples under my belt (and under the belts of many volunteers), it was time to weave the sail. Ten people visited my apartment to help weave about ten yards of 34” wide sailcloth, some of whom were first-time weavers.

Many people have asked, “how long did it take to make the sail?” My best estimate for just weaving the final sailcloth is fifty hours, half the amount of time spent doing the prep work. I have never timed myself when making something, because if I did, I would not enjoy the process of making it.

After weaving, I cut the 70 square feet of sail fabric into three sections and sewed the recently cut edges to prevent unraveling. Then five volunteers spent an afternoon stomping on and rolling the wet sail cloth in order to full the fabric. The fabric shrunk more significantly along the warp (length) than it did along the weft (width). Once the fabric dried, the three sections were machine and hand stitched into the shape of a four-sided sail.

Throughout this entire time, my textile mentor and friend Carol Colburn remained in close touch to provide support while I made sure the project stayed on track. Working mostly remotely with some in-person visits, Carol provided lots of encouragement and advice on how to start, continue and finish the sail. Together with the help of one volunteer, we stitched the sail in one weekend. Using my late grandmother’s industrial sewing machine, we sewed false seams down the center of the 30” wide sail cloth to increase strength, minimize stretch, and mimic the appearance of a traditional sail. Each section was sewn together with a flat felled seam and the edges rolled and hand stitched. Finally, leather grommets sewn around reamed holes and a coating of a resin saturating the cloth made the sail seaworthy. 

The boat and wool sail have cruised around local Minneapolis lakes, and it fares well in medium winds. The simple rigging includes brass hardware and a combination of nylon and cotton lines. Although the boat was never intended to be a technical sailboat, it sails pretty well and can fit up to three adults while under sail or row. Thank you to everyone who supported my work and helped make this project possible.

Martha Brummitt grew up in Milwaukee, WI and was lucky to spend much of her childhood surrounded by craft projects, boats and water. Driven to understand how useful objects are sourced and made, she has tanned hides to sew leather moccasins, harvested trees to create baskets and snowshoes, and processed raw wool into a knitted sweater. Her professional work has included teaching youth how to sail, canoe, waterski and build wooden boats. She currently lives in Minneapolis, MN with her partner and plans to live on a sailboat someday.

This activity is made possible by the voters of Minnesota through a grant from the Minnesota State Arts Board, thanks to a legislative appropriation from the arts and cultural heritage fund.