
Sign up to save your podcasts
Or


Got something to say to this podcast? Send a voicemail, and you might hear yourself on the next episode!
The compass began as a fortune-telling device, not a navigation tool. Lodestone, naturally magnetized magnetite, fascinated the ancient Greeks, who credited Thales of Miletus with noticing its pull on iron, and the word magnet likely comes from Magnesia in Anatolia. India's Sushruta Samhita describes using lodestone to draw metal arrowheads out of wounds. Around the Han dynasty, Chinese geomancers carved lodestone into a south-pointing spoon that settled on a bronze divination plate. In the 11th century, during the Song dynasty, the scholar Shen Kuo described magnetizing an ordinary iron needle by striking it with lodestone, aligning its magnetic domains and making compasses cheap to produce. Dry pivoting compasses appeared in the Islamic world and medieval Europe between the late 1100s and 1300s.
The needle points to magnetic north, hundreds of miles from true north, so navigators correct for declination, which varies by place and drifts over time as the poles wander, making old maps' corrections wrong. Near the poles, inclination drags the needle toward the ground. Liquid-filled capsules damp the needle and resist pressure for divers, while steel ships created deviation, fixed by swinging the ship in harbor and by binnacles fitted with magnets, Flinders bars, and two large iron spheres. Gyrocompasses and GPS compasses now find true north without magnets, yet ships still carry magnetic compasses as legally required backups because they need no power and cannot be jammed.
Got something to say to this podcast? Send a voicemail, and you might hear yourself on the next episode!
The word frigate traces back to a Greek phrase meaning undefended ship, and in the late 1500s Mediterranean it named a light, oared galley. During the Eighty Years' War, Spanish-backed Dunkirker privateers harassed Dutch shipping, and around 1600 the Dutch answered with sleek, 40-gun ocean-going frigates that dropped the towering castles of galleons and proved themselves at the Battle of the Downs in 1639. French designers then fell into the trap of top-heavy demi-batteries whose low gun ports flooded in rough seas. In 1740 the French Medee fixed it: no guns on the lower deck, crew berthed below the waterline, and one gun deck high enough to fight in a gale. The British captured her in the 1740s and copied the design.
The Carron Company's 1778 carronade, a short-barreled smasher light enough for upper decks, raised a frigate's close-range weight of metal, and F. H. Chapman's Swedish super-heavy frigates followed in 1782. Joshua Humphreys' American 44-gun frigates, including USS Constitution, carried up to 60 guns on live oak hulls, and in the War of 1812 the Admiralty barred British frigates from fighting them without two-to-one odds. Frigates scouted, raided for prize money, and served as repeating ships relaying an admiral's flag signals through the smoke. Ironclads like Gloire and HMS Warrior were briefly armored frigates, then the term vanished in the 1880s until World War II revived it for slow, austere submarine hunters.
Got something to say to this podcast? Send a voicemail, and you might hear yourself on the next episode!
Ellen MacArthur grew up in landlocked Derbyshire, England, born in 1976, and found sailing through books rather than a seafaring family. In 2001 she finished second in the Vendee Globe, the solo, nonstop, unassisted round-the-world race, aboard the monohull Kingfisher. At 24 she was the youngest competitor ever to complete it, and her women's solo monohull circumnavigation record stood for two decades until Clarisse Cremer beat it in 2021. In 2004 she broke the women's transatlantic record in the trimaran B&Q Castorama, beating times set by fully crewed boats.
In 2005 she sailed solo nonstop around the globe in 71 days, 14 hours, and 18 minutes, covering over 27,300 nautical miles at an average near 16 knots and beating Francis Joyon's world record by more than a day. On a trimaran that would stay upside down if it capsized, she never slept more than 20 minutes at a time, relying on pre-race sleep mapping and piercing instrument alarms, and she experienced hallucinations. At 28 she became the youngest person made a Dame Commander, and France named her a Knight of the Legion of Honor. By 2009 and 2010 she had retired from racing and launched the Ellen MacArthur Foundation, built on a lesson from sea: a boat is a closed system of finite resources, and so is the planet's economy.
Got something to say to this podcast? Send a voicemail, and you might hear yourself on the next episode!
In 31 BCE, with Octavian's forces closing in, Cleopatra had her ships dragged overland across the Suez isthmus toward the Red Sea, because the ancient canal there had silted into a muddy trench. The first attempts to pierce this land ran west to east, linking the Nile to the Red Sea through the Wadi Tumilat, possibly as early as pharaohs like Senusret or Ramesses II. Around 600 BCE Necho II pushed a major extension, and Herodotus claimed 120,000 men died digging it, before an oracle warned that only foreigners would benefit and he stopped. The Persian king Darius I finished it and carved granite stelae boasting of ships sailing from Egypt to Persia, but a receding Red Sea and relentless Nile silt made every canal a losing battle, even after Trajan and later caliphs restored it.
When Portugal rounded Africa, Venetian leaders debated digging a canal themselves to save their spice monopoly. Napoleon's 1798 expedition mapped the old canal's ruins, yet British opposition, voiced bluntly by Lord Palmerston, stalled a new one for decades. Ferdinand de Lesseps used his friendship with Said Pasha to win a concession in 1854, and the lockless canal was dug from 1859 to 1869, first by forced corvee labor amid cholera epidemics. It opened in November 1869 with a lavish celebration, and its shock to warehoused British trade goods helped trigger the Panic of 1873.
Got something to say to this podcast? Send a voicemail, and you might hear yourself on the next episode!
The Resolute Desk in the Oval Office is built from the timber of a ghost ship. HMS Resolute was abandoned in the Arctic ice in 1854, and a year later she was found drifting intact about 1,200 miles away near Baffin Island. In maritime terms a ghost ship is a real derelict found adrift with its crew missing or dead, and the legends came first: the Flying Dutchman, circulating from around 1795, the SS Bannockburn, a Canadian freighter lost on Lake Superior in 1902, and invented tales like the Octavius, found off Greenland in 1775 with its captain frozen at his desk, and the Ourang Medan of 1947, whose convenient explosion destroyed all the evidence. The benchmark real case is the Mary Celeste, found in December 1872 between Portugal and the Azores with sails set, cargo intact, and navigation tools gone. Arthur Conan Doyle later fictionalized her as the Marie Celeste and added the warm tea that never existed.
Leading theories point to her cargo of 1,700 barrels of industrial alcohol, nine found empty: fearing an explosion, the crew may have taken to a tethered lifeboat and watched the rope snap. The Carroll A. Deering ran aground on Diamond Shoals in 1921 with her crew of 11 gone, prompting a six-department federal investigation that even weighed Bolshevik pirates. The SS Baychimo, abandoned in the ice near Barrow, Alaska in 1931, was sighted drifting for nearly 40 years, until 1969. Modern cases turn forensic and then geopolitical, as ships switch off their AIS transponders to vanish from the global tracking grid.
Got something to say to this podcast? Send a voicemail, and you might hear yourself on the next episode!
The word battleship is shortened from ship of the line of battle, a ship stout enough to stand in the battle line. Its ancestor was the carrack, developed in Portugal by fusing the tough North Sea cog with the fighting utility of the Mediterranean galley. Carracks carried towering castles fore and aft, source of the word forecastle, where archers shot down and crews dropped heavy stones onto enemy decks, because the goal was to capture ships, not sink them. England's Mary Rose, built around 1510, grew from 78 to 91 guns and carried over 200 sailors, 185 soldiers, and 30 gunners before sinking at the Battle of the Solent in 1545, and the Henry Grace à Dieu, built at Woolwich from 1512 to 1514, was among the first English two deckers with watertight gun ports.
Lower gun ports made the broadside possible, and in the 17th century Dutch and English fleets adopted single file battle lines to avoid friendly fire, shrinking castles by the time of Sovereign of the Seas in 1637. Only ships strong enough to trade broadsides joined the line, and the sweet spot proved to be the French designed 74. After capturing L'Invincible in 1747, Thomas Slade and William Bateley studied its lines and produced the Dublin and Bellona classes. Steam and the screw propeller arrived with France's Napoleon in 1850, but explosive shells at Sinop in 1853 and the ironclad CSS Virginia at Hampton Roads in 1862 ended the wooden battle fleet.
Got something to say to this podcast? Send a voicemail, and you might hear yourself on the next episode!
The word maelstrom traces back to the Moskstraumen, a system of tidal eddies and whirlpools between two of Norway's Lofoten Islands, where twice a day strong currents and tides force huge volumes of water through a narrow, shallow strait and have swallowed fishing boats for centuries. Edgar Allan Poe's 1841 story A Descent into the Maelstrom, about an old man who survived being sucked into the vortex, turned the place into a metaphor for existential dread. Theme parks then bottled it: Epcot's Maelstrom was a log flume dark ride with trolls and storms, Morey's Piers in New Jersey built a spinning flat ride, and Drayton Manor in the UK used a gyro swing that simulates the pull of a whirlpool through the inner ear with no water at all.
Writers and musicians borrowed it next, from Peter Watts's 2001 novel to the Belgian band Oathbreaker, Kataklysm's track Maelstrom 2010, and a 1980s Boston thrash band, while composers Julian Cochran and Robert W. Smith used orchestral writing to capture the ordered spiral of a vortex. Villains took the name too, including characters in Marvel Comics and Ice Age, Professor Maelstrom in Netflix's Carmen Sandiego, and the target Wazir Kale in Hitman 2, giving indifferent natural chaos a human face that can be beaten. In games the meaning kept drifting: a literal whirlpool in Warcraft, a cybernetic gang in Cyberpunk 2077, and finally a lightning hammer in Dota 2, a textbook case of semantic drift.
Got something to say to this podcast? Send a voicemail, and you might hear yourself on the next episode!
The idea of riding on air dates to 1716, when Emanuel Swedenborg sketched a hovering craft powered by hand pumped air. In 1915 Austrian engineer Dagobert Müller built a working air cushion torpedo boat for the Austro-Hungarian Navy that topped 32 knots in the Adriatic, yet it was scrapped for lack of interest. In the 1950s Ford's Levapad concept cars hovered a fraction of an inch up and failed on any imperfect road. British engineer Christopher Cockerell solved the problem with a coffee can, a cat food tin, kitchen scales, and a hairdryer, discovering the momentum curtain: a ring of fast downward air that traps a high pressure cushion and needs a quarter to half the power a helicopter would use for the same lift.
The military services each claimed his invention belonged to the others, but the SR.N1 crossed the English Channel in 1959, and Prince Philip crashed it into a wave, leaving the Royal Dent. With only nine inches of clearance it needed Cecil Latimer-Needham and Denys Bliss's flexible skirt, whose rubber fingers bend over obstacles and snap back. Cross channel giants followed: the SR.N4 Mountbatten class carried up to 418 passengers and 60 cars, and the French N500 Naviplane matched it, both cruising over 80 knots. The 1973 oil crisis, cheaper wave piercing catamarans, and the Channel Tunnel ended the ferries by 2000, but hovercraft found new roles.
Got something to say to this podcast? Send a voicemail, and you might hear yourself on the next episode!
In 2023 Sebastian Steudtner surfed an 86 foot wave at Nazaré, Portugal, roughly the height of an eight story building. Wave riding began in several places: Peruvian fishermen rode reed craft called caballitos de totora back to shore, children in what is now Ghana and Senegal rode wood planks and rush bundles, and stand up surfing on carved boards emerged in Polynesia around 400 AD and became woven into Hawaiian society and ritual. In 1885 three Hawaiian princes shaped redwood boards and surfed the mouth of the San Lorenzo River in Santa Cruz, and in 1907 developers Abbot Kinney and Henry Huntington brought George Freeth to California to stage surfing exhibitions that sold coastal real estate. Duke Kahanamoku then spread it to Australia and the US East Coast.
A surfable wave starts with wind blowing across a long fetch. When a swell reaches shallow water, drag flattens the circular motion of water into an ellipse until the crest pitches over, and the peel angle decides whether a wave breaks in sequence or closes out all at once. Beach, point, reef, and ledge breaks produce different shapes, from Teahupo'o's square barrel to Pipeline's round tube. Boards went from 150 pound koa planks to balsa, polyurethane foam, and epoxy, and Simon Anderson's three fin thruster enabled sharp vertical turns. The dangers are real: the leash is thought to have played a part in Mark Foo's drowning, rip currents reach 2.5 meters per second, and a 2018 University of Exeter study found surfers three times more likely to carry antibiotic resistant E. coli.
Got something to say to this podcast? Send a voicemail, and you might hear yourself on the next episode!
In July 1969 the trimaran Teignmouth Electron was found drifting in the mid Atlantic, intact and empty, with fake navigation logs and a 25,000 word philosophical essay aboard. Its sailor, Donald Crowhurst, was an electronics engineer and weekend sailor whose radio navigation business was failing when the Sunday Times launched the 1968 Golden Globe race, a solo nonstop circumnavigation with 5,000 pounds for the fastest time. He mortgaged his business and family home, chose a fast but unproven trimaran, and planned a self righting masthead airbag he never built. The shakedown sail from Norfolk to Teignmouth took 13 days, and he left on October 31, 1968, the final legal start date, with supplies unstowed and repair materials left on the dock.
By mid November he calculated the boat would break apart in the Southern Ocean, but quitting meant bankruptcy. On December 6 he began two logbooks: a real one tracking slow progress in the Atlantic and a fake one showing a record run south, built from reverse engineered celestial sightings and weather reports he heard on the radio. At Christmas he implied he was off Cape Town while lingering off Brazil, and in March he made an illegal stop in Argentina for repairs. His claimed speed pushed Nigel Tetley to drive his own trimaran until it sank about a thousand miles from the finish, leaving Crowhurst set to win the prize and face scrutiny from Sir Francis Chichester. He withdrew into writing, made a final log entry on July 1, and vanished.
From the publisher's feed
pplpod is a podcast about people, places and lots of other stuff. Each episode takes a deep dive into the lives, choices, and legacies of fascinating figures from history, culture,…
Thoughtful, engaging, and story-driven, pplpod explores what makes these lives extraordinary—and what we can learn from them today.