American jouster, Stacy Wasson, shares a lovely and informative essay about her favorite experience of 2014:
Last winter in a rare and fortuitous evening of bumming around on Facebook, I was contacted by someone I’d always wanted to meet – none other than Radar Goddard. Although there are countless ladies riding successfully at Renaissance Faires across the U.S. doing various types of theatrical jousting at a multitude of venues, there are relatively few women doing competitive balsa jousting internationally. Of these women, before this summer, I’d only had the pleasure of meeting and riding with Sarah Hay of Australia and one other young Norwegian woman, a protégé of Petter Ellingsen, Lisa Holar. I had heard Radar’s name and seen photos of her on many occasions and wondered what she was like, if we’d have anything in common, would she give me the time of day?
Imagine my surprise when she asked if Jeff and I would like to come to Canada that summer and joust in an international tournament. I had to pinch myself. “Really?” I’d asked her, “You wouldn't tease me would you?” Instant messaging can be a wonderful thing, and Radar was both charming and witty as she put me at ease and told me that she’d always wanted to meet Jeff and I. Arrangements were made, and the wait and wondering began. We had never been to Western Canada before and although most of the competitors were known to us, most of them we had never actually met.
When the appointed time came, we were met at the airport by a vanguard of cheerful Canadians waving heraldic plaques with our devices at the arrivals gate. Radar herself proved to be every bit as funny, friendly and knowledgeable as she’d come across the internet. Over the next few days she introduced us to her little corner of Canada, amazed, we couldn't help but smile at the boundless energy and enthusiasm of the people who surrounded her. Radar had managed to round up eleven experienced jousters.
Stacy Wasson(left), Nicolo Corrarello(center) and Sarah Hay(right), Brooks 2014
(photo by Grant Zelych)
Besides myself, of the internationals there was my ever stalwart and talented husband Jeffrey Wasson, Sarah Hay of Australia, Nicola Corrarello of Italy and Ole Nielsen from Denmark. For her Canadian compatriots, Radar had mustered Alison Mercer, Dale Gienow, Jean-Francois Drapeau, Jean-Sebastian Drapeau and Marc Hamel. Keeping us all in line and presiding over the officiation was the formidable Fred Piraux, while the ever clever Jordan Heron was Master of Ceremonies.
It was a brilliant combination of talent, good humor and cooperation. Preparing for the tourney and getting to know each other better was a real treat, I could go on and on about the skills and superlatives of each and every one of the jousters, as well as the folks on the ground. Included in that number I would be remiss not to mention our own daughter Emma. Emma is not only a talented rider, but after being raised in the shadow of the list like it or not, she has become an outstanding squire.
The tournament was awesome, the heat, the horses, the wildly enthusiastic Canadian crowd. It was a weekend to remember, but for me, the most glorious moment came at the final tourney of the weekend during my match with Alison Mercer. All of the matches consisted of four passes, Alison and I had started our match earlier in the tournament but after two successful breaks, we’d had to stop due to equipment failure. Alison had a strap blow on her ecranche and had gone off to replace it with another. As the other matches continued, I waited and gathered calm about me. I was concerned. These next two passes would be my last for the tournament, the way everyone involved would remember me perhaps forever. Who knew when I might see some of these stellar competitors again?
To truly appreciate the moment, you must understand that before this particular tournament, I was almost sick with concern over the lances. Go into a room with 5 jousters and you’ll likely get 5 different opinions as to how to design the perfect lance. For those of you who are not familiar – the ideal form for execution of a jousting pass is called “the levée”. It's the slow graceful lowering of the lance, perfectly timed to meet your opponents shield as you cross in the center of the list. After engaging your opponent, with your lance broken or not, you proceed to just as elegantly raise it so that it is in an upright position when you reach the end of the list and hand it neatly to your awaiting, able-bodied squire.
For me at 5’5” and roughly 120 pounds (a featherweight in the world wide jousting line-up) the crux of the lance issue is this, that the fore end of the lance must not be so tip heavy that it plummets forward in the first stages of the levade. Remember that room of jousters? Most if not all of them will be strong men who don’t give a fig that the lance they designed may be tip heavy, they are able to muscle it in place easily and it doesn't concern them. There are ways of designing a lance that create a better balance hence making it more manageable for a variety of riders, but most of these guys aren't engineers and as I said before, it’s not their issue.
So for me, there is always that big question mark when packing for a trip. Who designed the lances? What type of tips are being used, will we get to practice with them? The implications are grave, for someone who does not handle their lance well, the results may be injury to themselves, their opponents or the unthinkable – the horses. Even in the most ideal circumstances, accidents can happen. No packing job is complete without a few roles of chewable antacids and a box of Zantac for good measure.
I won't lie, with their frangible pine tips, the Brooks lances had been on the heavy side for me, I’d been managing but it had not been easy. The heat had been oppressive and keeping hydrated had been a challenge for all of us. Every knowledgeable athlete knows that dehydration is the thief of strength. I took a few deep breaths and visualized a mantle of calm over myself and Willow my young inexperienced mount.
Stacy Wasson on the horse Willow. It was Willow's first jousting tournament
(photo by Twyla Brower Wehnes)
Finally, Jordan called Alison and I to our respective ends of the list. He reminded the crowd of our two successful passes earlier in the tournament and wittily remarked that “Here in Alberta when we say Hit Like A Girl it means Really Hard!” (I thought this was hilarious, even better when Jordan explained to me later it was a reference to a women’s hockey ad campaign – a joke that was obvious to all the Canadians.) At my end of the list, I steadied Willow and received my lance – the salute and take-off was a blur. Willow is small and quick, and so is Alison’s horse Siggy. My target, Alison’s black and gold ecranche approached rapidly and the impact was, as the Canadians are fond of saying “Epic”.
The frangible pine tips had been proving to pack a wallop, and good contact had been having a field day with our knuckles. Somewhere in the back of my mind it registered that my knuckles had been abused, but I was too pumped up to worry about it. Something was very odd about the weight of the lance, but it took a few moments for the primitive-lizard part of my brain to sort all this out as Willow and I came to a halt. Honestly, I don’t know if the crowd was going wild, I just remember the moment I realized that I might have broken the whole lance. In disbelief, I still had to stupidly ask the squire “Did I break it?” as I handed off the remains of my lance and raised my visor.
“Are you kidding me?” he asked with a grin, “Take a look at this!” All he had in his hand was the grip and shattered wooden vamplate of the lance. I was still in disbelief. In 12 years of jousting this was a feat that I’d rarely seen, and then, only by men who are surely in the ranks of jousting demi-gods. Was I joining those ranks? Surely not, but no matter --- This no one could take away from me; on this day, in this tournament, at the Brooks Medieval Faire, Stacy Wasson had shattered her entire lance.
When the final scores were calculated, I was astonished to learn that Willow and I had won that tournament. Even though I had never been concerned with scores and winning, I must admit, to have won a tournament in such company – I was elated.*
Later as we were cleaning up, two young Canadian men approached Penny Pisano (a loyal STALC member) and myself. They presented to me for inspection a section of lance that they had somehow acquired. “Is that a piece of my lance?” I asked them. Oh yes, they assured me – not only was it mine, but it was part of the one that had broken so spectacularly. It had flown high up into the air and come down where they were sitting in the upper part of the grand stand.
“I had to duck,” said the shorter one. “And then I caught it,” chimed in the other. I must have grinned like a double idiot then – not only had I won the tournament, but I’d hit a home run as well.
“Wow... Would you like me to sign it for you?” I heard myself ask. (All this while part of my brain was thanking god nobody got hit, and at the same time wondering if this was how Babe Ruth had felt.) The response was a resounding affirmative from both young men, who looked as if they’d won a great prize. Wow, Canada --- How could you not love the whole country?
*My win was one of four tourneys that comprised the entire competition; at the end of the weekend, Ole Nielsen of Denmark was the overall Champion.
Alison Mercer(left) and Stacy Wasson(right) beaming over Alison’s battered ecranche
(photo by Jeff Wasson)
Editorial note: In case you are wondering; the writing around Stacy's ecranche(which you can see in the photo at the top of this article) is her personal motto, which reads:
"Meme une petite fleur peut mettre a genoux un valeureux"
"Even the smallest flower can bring bring the valiant to their knees."
Related articles:
Favorite Moments from 2014: Part One
Favorite Moments from 2014: Part Two
Favorite Moments From 2014: Photographers Andrew Wickens and Hanno van Harten
Favorite Moments from 2010: The Accidental International Jouster's Tale
Favorite Moments from 2014: Part Five
Epic Moment at Brooks Medieval Faire
By Stacy WassonStacy Wasson at Brooks 2014 (photo by Grant Zelych) |
Imagine my surprise when she asked if Jeff and I would like to come to Canada that summer and joust in an international tournament. I had to pinch myself. “Really?” I’d asked her, “You wouldn't tease me would you?” Instant messaging can be a wonderful thing, and Radar was both charming and witty as she put me at ease and told me that she’d always wanted to meet Jeff and I. Arrangements were made, and the wait and wondering began. We had never been to Western Canada before and although most of the competitors were known to us, most of them we had never actually met.
When the appointed time came, we were met at the airport by a vanguard of cheerful Canadians waving heraldic plaques with our devices at the arrivals gate. Radar herself proved to be every bit as funny, friendly and knowledgeable as she’d come across the internet. Over the next few days she introduced us to her little corner of Canada, amazed, we couldn't help but smile at the boundless energy and enthusiasm of the people who surrounded her. Radar had managed to round up eleven experienced jousters.
Stacy Wasson(left), Nicolo Corrarello(center) and Sarah Hay(right), Brooks 2014
(photo by Grant Zelych)
Besides myself, of the internationals there was my ever stalwart and talented husband Jeffrey Wasson, Sarah Hay of Australia, Nicola Corrarello of Italy and Ole Nielsen from Denmark. For her Canadian compatriots, Radar had mustered Alison Mercer, Dale Gienow, Jean-Francois Drapeau, Jean-Sebastian Drapeau and Marc Hamel. Keeping us all in line and presiding over the officiation was the formidable Fred Piraux, while the ever clever Jordan Heron was Master of Ceremonies.
It was a brilliant combination of talent, good humor and cooperation. Preparing for the tourney and getting to know each other better was a real treat, I could go on and on about the skills and superlatives of each and every one of the jousters, as well as the folks on the ground. Included in that number I would be remiss not to mention our own daughter Emma. Emma is not only a talented rider, but after being raised in the shadow of the list like it or not, she has become an outstanding squire.
The tournament was awesome, the heat, the horses, the wildly enthusiastic Canadian crowd. It was a weekend to remember, but for me, the most glorious moment came at the final tourney of the weekend during my match with Alison Mercer. All of the matches consisted of four passes, Alison and I had started our match earlier in the tournament but after two successful breaks, we’d had to stop due to equipment failure. Alison had a strap blow on her ecranche and had gone off to replace it with another. As the other matches continued, I waited and gathered calm about me. I was concerned. These next two passes would be my last for the tournament, the way everyone involved would remember me perhaps forever. Who knew when I might see some of these stellar competitors again?
To truly appreciate the moment, you must understand that before this particular tournament, I was almost sick with concern over the lances. Go into a room with 5 jousters and you’ll likely get 5 different opinions as to how to design the perfect lance. For those of you who are not familiar – the ideal form for execution of a jousting pass is called “the levée”. It's the slow graceful lowering of the lance, perfectly timed to meet your opponents shield as you cross in the center of the list. After engaging your opponent, with your lance broken or not, you proceed to just as elegantly raise it so that it is in an upright position when you reach the end of the list and hand it neatly to your awaiting, able-bodied squire.
For me at 5’5” and roughly 120 pounds (a featherweight in the world wide jousting line-up) the crux of the lance issue is this, that the fore end of the lance must not be so tip heavy that it plummets forward in the first stages of the levade. Remember that room of jousters? Most if not all of them will be strong men who don’t give a fig that the lance they designed may be tip heavy, they are able to muscle it in place easily and it doesn't concern them. There are ways of designing a lance that create a better balance hence making it more manageable for a variety of riders, but most of these guys aren't engineers and as I said before, it’s not their issue.
So for me, there is always that big question mark when packing for a trip. Who designed the lances? What type of tips are being used, will we get to practice with them? The implications are grave, for someone who does not handle their lance well, the results may be injury to themselves, their opponents or the unthinkable – the horses. Even in the most ideal circumstances, accidents can happen. No packing job is complete without a few roles of chewable antacids and a box of Zantac for good measure.
I won't lie, with their frangible pine tips, the Brooks lances had been on the heavy side for me, I’d been managing but it had not been easy. The heat had been oppressive and keeping hydrated had been a challenge for all of us. Every knowledgeable athlete knows that dehydration is the thief of strength. I took a few deep breaths and visualized a mantle of calm over myself and Willow my young inexperienced mount.
Stacy Wasson on the horse Willow. It was Willow's first jousting tournament
(photo by Twyla Brower Wehnes)
Finally, Jordan called Alison and I to our respective ends of the list. He reminded the crowd of our two successful passes earlier in the tournament and wittily remarked that “Here in Alberta when we say Hit Like A Girl it means Really Hard!” (I thought this was hilarious, even better when Jordan explained to me later it was a reference to a women’s hockey ad campaign – a joke that was obvious to all the Canadians.) At my end of the list, I steadied Willow and received my lance – the salute and take-off was a blur. Willow is small and quick, and so is Alison’s horse Siggy. My target, Alison’s black and gold ecranche approached rapidly and the impact was, as the Canadians are fond of saying “Epic”.
The frangible pine tips had been proving to pack a wallop, and good contact had been having a field day with our knuckles. Somewhere in the back of my mind it registered that my knuckles had been abused, but I was too pumped up to worry about it. Something was very odd about the weight of the lance, but it took a few moments for the primitive-lizard part of my brain to sort all this out as Willow and I came to a halt. Honestly, I don’t know if the crowd was going wild, I just remember the moment I realized that I might have broken the whole lance. In disbelief, I still had to stupidly ask the squire “Did I break it?” as I handed off the remains of my lance and raised my visor.
“Are you kidding me?” he asked with a grin, “Take a look at this!” All he had in his hand was the grip and shattered wooden vamplate of the lance. I was still in disbelief. In 12 years of jousting this was a feat that I’d rarely seen, and then, only by men who are surely in the ranks of jousting demi-gods. Was I joining those ranks? Surely not, but no matter --- This no one could take away from me; on this day, in this tournament, at the Brooks Medieval Faire, Stacy Wasson had shattered her entire lance.
This no one could take away from me; on this day, in this tournament, at the Brooks Medieval Faire, Stacy Wasson had shattered her entire lance.It was a benchmark, perhaps the high point of my jousting career. Our second pass was also a success, although overshadowed by the previous. Alison had broken both her lances as well and we grinned like idiots as we greeted each other for the traditional handshake of honor.
When the final scores were calculated, I was astonished to learn that Willow and I had won that tournament. Even though I had never been concerned with scores and winning, I must admit, to have won a tournament in such company – I was elated.*
Later as we were cleaning up, two young Canadian men approached Penny Pisano (a loyal STALC member) and myself. They presented to me for inspection a section of lance that they had somehow acquired. “Is that a piece of my lance?” I asked them. Oh yes, they assured me – not only was it mine, but it was part of the one that had broken so spectacularly. It had flown high up into the air and come down where they were sitting in the upper part of the grand stand.
“I had to duck,” said the shorter one. “And then I caught it,” chimed in the other. I must have grinned like a double idiot then – not only had I won the tournament, but I’d hit a home run as well.
“Wow... Would you like me to sign it for you?” I heard myself ask. (All this while part of my brain was thanking god nobody got hit, and at the same time wondering if this was how Babe Ruth had felt.) The response was a resounding affirmative from both young men, who looked as if they’d won a great prize. Wow, Canada --- How could you not love the whole country?
*My win was one of four tourneys that comprised the entire competition; at the end of the weekend, Ole Nielsen of Denmark was the overall Champion.
Alison Mercer(left) and Stacy Wasson(right) beaming over Alison’s battered ecranche
(photo by Jeff Wasson)
Editorial note: In case you are wondering; the writing around Stacy's ecranche(which you can see in the photo at the top of this article) is her personal motto, which reads:
"Meme une petite fleur peut mettre a genoux un valeureux"
"Even the smallest flower can bring bring the valiant to their knees."
Do you have a favorite moment from 2014? Please share it in the comments.
Related articles:
Favorite Moments from 2014: Part One
Favorite Moments from 2014: Part Two
Favorite Moments From 2014: Photographers Andrew Wickens and Hanno van Harten
Favorite Moments from 2010: The Accidental International Jouster's Tale
Favorite Moments from 2014: Part Five
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