2 days ago | Advertorial | Joanne Ostrander

“After 47 years, I’m putting down my carving knife” – Arvid (78) is selling his last hand-carved Viking longships at a special price. His most-loved piece sets sail one final time.

For 47 years, Arvid Haugen has carved little Viking ships by hand on Lake Superior. Now his shoulder has given out and his boat shed is sold – what is left is his last fleet.

Two Harbors, November. The old boat shed behind Arvid’s house smells of fresh wood shavings, linseed oil and a thin thread of cedar smoke. Through the window you can see the gray water of Lake Superior. On the workbench lie chisels worn smooth by decades of use, a jar of tiny brushes and a row of little hulls – some still bare wood, some already lined with red and blue shields. Arvid sits down at the bench the way he has almost every evening since 1979. But this winter is different. It is his last one here.

“I’m 78,” he says, and slowly rolls his right shoulder. “The shoulder’s done. I can hold the knife for ten minutes, then it burns all the way down my arm. A carving knife needs a steady hand, and mine isn’t steady anymore.” He sets the chisel down. “And the house is sold. My daughter has been asking me to come down to Arizona for years. This time I said yes.”

47 years, more than 6,000 ships – and it all started with one for Ingrid

Arvid has done the math. Since 1979 he has carved more than 6,000 little longships, every one by hand, most of them on long winter evenings when the lake was frozen and the boatyard was quiet. “I built real boats all day,” he says. “Fishing boats, a few sailboats. At night I made small ones.”

The first was for his wife, Ingrid. She liked to light a stick of cedar incense after supper, and Arvid didn’t like the ash on the table. So he carved her a ship from the old country, copied from the little longship his grandfather had brought over from Norway in 1903: a dragon at the bow, a curled stern, and a hole drilled at an angle so the ash would fall into the hull. “She put it on the sideboard and said every home needs a ship,” Arvid says. “After that, the neighbors wanted one too.” Ingrid passed away four years ago. Her ship, the very first one, still stands on that sideboard.

What makes Arvid’s longships so special

It isn’t only the dragon at the bow, its mouth open as if it were calling across the water. It’s the way every ship is made: a real piece of carving, meant to be used every evening – not a trinket pressed out of a mold.

Each hull is hand-carved wood, shaped until the planks along its sides look like a real clinker-built boat. A row of round shields runs along the rail, painted red and blue by hand. The dragon head rises at the bow with a copper finish, the curled stern sits at the back. In the stern is a small hole, drilled at an angle, that holds one incense stick. As the stick burns down, the ash drops into the hull instead of onto your furniture. At 10.3 inches long and 3.4 inches tall at the dragon’s head, it fits on a sideboard, a bookshelf, a mantel or a nightstand.

The result is more than an incense holder. It’s a small ship that sits on your shelf all day – and in the evening, when the stick is lit and the smoke drifts over the bow, it looks as if it were sailing through morning fog on the lake.

“Some of my ships have stood on the same mantel for 40 years”

Arvid reaches under the workbench and pulls out an old coffee can. Inside are letters and Christmas cards, held together with a rubber band. “Those are from customers,” he says. “Some have written every Christmas for thirty years.” He unfolds a card from 2009: “Dear Mr. Haugen, the ship you made for my father in 1986 now stands on my mantel. I light a stick every Sunday evening, just like he did. It still looks the way it did the day he unwrapped it.”

Arvid says the reason is simple: patience instead of speed. Factories are built to turn out thousands an hour. Arvid makes one ship at a time. Each one takes hours – from the rough block of wood to the planking lines, the drilled stern, every painted shield and a final rub of oil.

The end of an era – and one last chance

On January 30, the new owners get the keys to the house – and to the boat shed. “There’s nobody to take it over,” Arvid says. “Young people don’t want to sit in a cold shed for six hours over one little boat. I understand that.” Around 340 longships are still lined up on his shelves. His life’s work. The last fleet that will ever leave his hands.

To make sure they find good homes before he leaves, Arvid has made an unusual decision: a clear special price on every ship. “It’s not about the money anymore. I want my ships on mantels and bookshelves, where somebody lights a stick in the evening and thinks of the old country. Not in a moving box in Arizona.” His grandchildren Kari (26) and Nils (29) are helping him sell them online. “I can carve a dragon with my eyes closed,” Arvid laughs, “but don’t ask me how the internet works.”

It was Nils who gave the ships their nickname. “When he was five, he called them Grandpa’s fleet,” Arvid says. “It stuck.” For many customers, the little ship has become part of an evening ritual: light a stick, let the smoke drift over the bow, and end the day a little slower.

Why Arvid’s longships stand apart:

What real customers say about Arvid’s longships

“The best present I have ever given my dad”

Customer Melissa R. (44) from Rochester, Minnesota, agrees: “I gave my dad one of Arvid’s ships for his 75th birthday. He’s a quiet man. He turned it around in his hands for a long time and then said: ‘That’s how my grandfather’s boats looked.’ It sits right next to his reading chair now, and he lights a stick every night. You can’t put a price on that.”

Where can you get one of Arvid’s longships?

Arvid’s longships are only available through Cedar & Tin – an online shop that works with a small group of independent makers. Kari and Nils run Arvid’s little corner of the shop there. Only there will you find the original longships from Arvid’s boat shed. Lookalike ships from mass production have started to show up on Amazon and other big sites. At first glance they may look similar, but they have nothing to do with Arvid’s work.

Only this winter – then the shed is closed

On January 30, Arvid hands over the keys. “By then I’d like every ship to have found a home,” he says. “After that, it really is over.” He looks out at the lake for a moment. “Forty-seven years. It’s been a good run.”

If you would like one of the original longships from Arvid’s last fleet, don’t wait too long. With the special price and this much interest, the remaining ships are not expected to last until January. Whatever is still on the shelves after January 30, Kari and Nils will keep sending out – but only until the last ship is gone.

It is the last chance to bring a piece of real handwork into your home – before Arvid’s fleet sails off for good.

The verdict

Arvid’s Viking Longship is the kind of piece people keep for decades. It is carved by hand in a small boat shed on Lake Superior and turns any shelf, mantel or sideboard into a little harbor of calm – with a thin line of smoke drifting over the dragon’s head every evening.

A feel-good piece with real history – carefully carved, painted by hand, made to be used – and every time you light a stick, a small reminder that some things are still made slowly. Thank you, Arvid!

Readers love Arvid’s longships

Photos sent in by readers.