That Robin Hood Vibe

When I took up archery again, recently, I found I could barely draw my longbow half-way. It over-bowed me.

So I started again with a recurve bow - which is fine, it's fun. But there just isn't the same Robin Hood vibe.

That was a couple of months ago.

 I've joined The Stourbridge Company of Archers - I find something very appealing about the collective noun for archers being 'company.'

One of the coaches in the Company told me 'the easiest way to string a longbow.' Which was something I'd never been able to do, even when I could draw the thing. I always had to ask some passing bloke to do it for me, which vexed me no end.

So when I got home, I took my longbow out and tried stringing it. And I did it! Quite easily, too. I can't tell you the thrill of being able to string my own longbow at last.

(I'm sure Madwippit knows how to string a longbow very well, but for anyone who doesn't, and is interested, here's how. A longbow has the string permanently nocked at one end (unlike a recurve, where you take the string off completely.)

longbow

Recurve Bow

Put the strung end of the longbow in front of your left ankle, the tip touching the ground.

Step through the bow-string with your right foot. The bow-stave is now going behind your right leg, with its slightly curved tip lodged in front of your left ankle. The string is in front of your right leg.

Lift the bow so the bow-stave goes, as my archery friend put it, 'around the fat of your bum.'

Now pull the upper end of the bow forward, under your right arm. Clamp the bow-stave between your legs, press down with your right arm, and bend the bow-stave around 'the fat of your bum.'

With your right arm, squeeze the bow-stave in and down as, with your left hand, you slide the string up the stave and into its nock. Considering that I could barely draw the bow a few weeks ago, this isn't nearly as hard as I thought it would be. It's not effortless, but well within my capabilities.

My friend complained that this method bruised her left shin, so she didn't use it much. But I haven't found that it bruises.

Why did my previous club not tell me about this method? They

insisted that the only safe way to string a bow was to lodge the end in your instep, bend the bow with your left hand, and slide the string up to the nock with your right. I always found this beyond my strength.


Anyway, having triumphantly strung the bow, I tried drawing it - and found that I could almost - nearly - draw the string back to my chin. It was hard, but I could do it.

(I let the bow down without loosing the string, of course. I learned the lesson 'never loose an empty bow-string' the first time I ever picked up a bow, ten or more years ago. I drew back the string - and then loosed it before my instructor could tell me not to. It seemed the obvious thing to do. Big mistake! If you've ever wondered what it feels like to be a rat, shaken to death by a terrier, loose an empty bow-string. All the stored kinetic energy, instead of being released into the arrow, is released through you. It's a mistake you only make once, believe me - but one better not made at all.)

Even though the longbow still seemed a bit beyond me, I decided to take it along to archery that Sunday, and try it out. I took my recurve too, thinking that if I became incapable of drawing the longbow after a few arrows, I could swop to the recurve.

I arrived at the field to see the butts set out in a way new to me. Instead of being set out like this (with Os as butts and Is as archers):-

O        O            O           O

I         I              I             I

they were set out like this:-

O                          I                           O

O                            I                            O

O                           I                          O

So I left my bows in the car while I went to find out what was going on. It turned out they were holding a club tournament, longbow only - so it was handy that, by coincidence, I'd happened to bring my longbow.

I'd never shot in a tournament before, not even an informal club shoot like this. I thoroughly enjoyed it, even though my score was pathetic.

I shot at the second butt, along with a couple of juniors, a senior and a hardened longbowman, Bruce, who was, in fact, the holder of this tournament trophy which, he told me was 'a beautiful thing,' a bronze longbow standing upright in a longbow stand.

I told Bruce my fears of not being able to draw my bow more than two or three times. "It's always lighter with an arrow on the string," he said - and this proved to be true. With an arrow on the string, the bow seemed to draw far more easily. I was able to come up to full draw and hold it while I aimed.

I shot for the whole tournament: 96 arrows - far more than I thought I'd be able to manage. The bow never felt too hard to draw. "It's psychological," Bruce said. "You're thinking about your stance and aim, and not about the weight."

That's probably true, but I couldn't help feeling that the bow was glad to be shooting again, and went easy on me. And, maybe, even, it had put into my head the idea of taking it along that day. Ridiculous, I know, but there's just something about a longbow... They seem more alive, somehow, than a recurve.

I found I was really glad to be shooting the longbow again. I felt something like relief, even though I wasn't good. The longbow just feels better than the recurve, even though it's a lot harder to use. There's less faff - you don't have to put it together and use a stringer to string it. You just string a longbow (once you know how), and there you are, set to go. And there's that Robin Hood vibe. You can't beat it.

The shoot worked like this - The adults lined up between the rows of butts, on the fifty yard line, and shot six arrows each at their appointed target.

Then the Juniors went to their line, ten yards closer, and took their turn, while the older and more experienced archers stood behind them, giving advice and cheering them on. 

We all walked up together, to check our scores and collect our arrows. One person from every butt collected the scores.

Then we turned round and shot at the other row of butts. At half time we took a break, and then the adults shot from the Junior's line, and the Juniors moved ten yards forward to a position marked by a red flag.

I'm still so out of practice that I feel happy if I hit the butt, let alone score anything. I managed to put at least two arrows on the butt about half of the time. The rest either fell short or went over the top - but a lot of arrows were doing the same, so I didn't feel too much of a doughnut. I was getting the line, but not quite judging the distance.

If the arrow hits the 'petticoat' - that is, the area of the face outside the outer ring, it scores nothing, so sometimes, even when I hit the butt, I didn't score. But I managed a few ones, a five and a three - and my best score was nine and seven. "Somebody's getting their distance," said Bruce. But, sadly, it didn't last. It was back to misses and ones after that.

(We were using a different scoring system to one shown in the picture. The inner and outer rings for each colour were ignored. So landing in the white, scored one. Black=3. Blue=5. Red=7 and Gold=9)

I'm already looking forward to next Sunday. The Stourbridge Company (club colours: white, black, blue, red and yellow, like the face,) have a beautiful shooting ground, surrounded by tall trees, with buzzards gliding overhead. As you walk back from the butts with your arrows, you look up at the sky, clouds and tree-tops, and breathe deep. It's grand. Thank you, Mr. Somers, industrialist, who left the big house and grounds to the local people, 'for their recreation,'  after WW2. I can only suppose he didn't want the house back after troops had been housed in it - still, it was generous of him.

It'll be me and the longbow, again, recreating next week. I must look into getting some wooden arrows for it... must keep it happy.

The Fair Toxopholists - not quite the Robin Hood Vibe

Actaen getting his - by Titian. Now that's a Diana who looks like she means business.