Bronn, but Not Forgotten

Author's Note: This contains descriptions that readers might find disturbing.

It wasn't called "Lake Eerie" because it sounded creative. Yes, Lake Erie was a beautiful place, but it held its own secrets, from the legends of cryptids near its shores to the horror stories that many convey or covet involving ghosts and urban legends. Amongst them was a story that wasn't well known, even dismissed as impossible and unfounded. In my case, I really wished it was.

The story revolves around the time when Vikings came to the shores of America. One particular expedition was a Viking simply known as "Bronn". Not an uncommon name for a Norseman, but what was uncommon was his own personal expedition. He and his crew had pushed further than the other Vikings, having made it to the area that we now come to know as The Great Lakes. Encroaching upon Lake Ontario, he was sure that he had arrived at the end of the countryside and back into the ocean, only to find out that this water was almost enclosed by land. He found Lake Erie afterwards, and his last expedition was recorded right here in Mentor, Ohio.

Well, recorded as in passed down from the descendants of both Norsemen and Natives, both of their ancestors regarding Bronn as "a man possessed by his desire to find the other side to this accursed land, obsessed with protecting his vessel as he and his men would drag it from one location to another." Their shared accounts put the last location of the vessel in the eastern basin of the lake; there were no more accounts afterwards.

It was this vessel that I wanted to find. Mind you, I'm no professional historian nor millionaire trying to excite a fanbase. I merely wanted to set my own mark as a man of little impression looking for a vessel of little renown. Still, if I did find the ship, the legends would be proven as fact, and the stories would become part of a history long since forgotten; in short, I would be putting Mentor on the map as more than a lakeside hotspot. But this was more than just one man's attempt to satiate a lore that was barely local. I just wanted to see if it was true.

I had my diving experiences and even paid classes to prepare me for this very moment, from the few days of the basics to equipment education and then diving with the experts. It was a pretty penny to obtain such knowledge, and a little more to get my own material, but it was hopefully worth it all. I rented a cruising boat for the following day, which was another costly affair, but I reminded myself of why I was doing this. I also had my own GoPro camera to aid in my own recording, but to also catch anything that I might miss.

Morning came. I cleaned up, brushed, gathered all that I would need, and found myself on my boat with three large bags, a few protein bars, and two cannisters for water and coffee. Being that it was summer, I would need to get to the eastern basin before some families started crowding the area with their activities of loud splashing and racing their own boats. It took me well over an hour, but I finally reached the area where the Viking vessel was last seen. Anchoring the boat, I dressed up and prepared myself for the dive. Finally, I grabbed my personal dive sonar, or PDS, and checked to make sure that the batteries were fresh. Confirmed, I activated my gear and started recording with my GoPro, checked my flippers, and then dived.

I must have done a dozen dives in my life, yet the experience remained the same; I was passing from the proverbial homeland into an alien environment, like stepping off of one planet and onto another. Here, though, the atmosphere was fluid and pressing upon me, growing significantly as I moved deeper down into it. The world was also a lot colder, which was held momentarily at bay by my insulated suit. Not waiting around, I activated my PDS and dove further down, guided by both my handheld device as well as the chain of the anchor.

It was a few minutes when I made my first discovery in that area; there were no creatures in this vicinity.

I checked my PDS again, but I mostly used my eyes as well as my knowledge of this lake. No nearby sturgeons, no jellyfish, no fish in general were detected. There wasn't even a water snake or lamprey nearby. I checked my pressure gauge; I was over thirty feet deep. I wasn't too worried about the bends, but it would still be on my mind as a caution amongst other things. Right now, though, my concern was finding the vessel and wondering why this area of the water was so empty, like everything had left immediately. I went deeper, getting to sixty feet, and suddenly my sonar picked up something.

It was faint, but it wasn't too far below and ahead. I stayed with the chain of the anchor as I went further down, just in case that it might not be anything. I also pulled out my large flashlight as the sun above was dimming immensely. The beam of the electric torch cut into the blue, dimming the further it went. Whatever this thing was, I would have to approach it closer. Pointing my flashlight down, I could actually see the floor of the lake about sixty feet below, where my anchor lied. I found this good, as it meant that I wasn't in the deeper parts just yet. Still, a hundred and twenty feet was nothing to sneeze at, especially if I wasn't careful in my decompression stages.

The PDS continued alerting me to the obstruction ahead. Hovering above the floor at about nine feet, I swam ahead and kept the sight of the anchor behind me until the dark water swallowed it. I kept my head pointed to the obstruction and my feet pointed to the chain, clearing any idea of getting lost; if I can't remember where the chain was, I will simply head up to the surface and stop at my designated areas to depressurize. Checking the PDS, I realized that I was getting closer. I looked around again, but I was only greeted by the water and my own breathing; it looked like life itself had abandoned this area.

Twenty feet ahead, I saw it. More importantly, I found it!

The unmistakable outline of a Viking longboat was just up ahead. Or, rather, two halves of a longboat when I started getting closer. Still, it had all the bells and whistles, in that there was the forged serpentine figurehead roaring into ears that no longer could hear, the carved hull that could no longer cut through the watery prison, and the shields that were either barely hanging on the sides or scattered nearby, the rawhide having long since decayed. Perhaps that was what drove life away from the site? But the most prominent feature was the mast, which still stood tall at an angle and held up what appeared to be the leftover remains of the sails that once aided it across oceans and a rope tied around its base. My GoPro still recording, I approached closer, noting the break within the bow of the ship about a couple yards from the mast, and I started noticing something else; the ship appeared abandoned.

Granted, this was a wreck, and nobody would be found on a ship that was sinking into the water, with the exceptions being during times of war or when something unexpected happened like an accident. However, the fact remains that there were oars still out and the remnants of a sail that must have been released in full. There was also the rope tied around the mast. I followed it from where it was tied to where it was lying across the broken planks, and all the way to where it seemed to disappear into the remains of the other half of the vessel which was now covered by the sediments over time. I hooked my PDS to my belt, keeping my flashlight in hand, and I decided to pull on the rope.

Even after all this time, the rope still held strong. It was easy at first but then came the snag. Whatever it was, it felt like it was buried in the sediment bank from the other half. There was some give, though, and I just decided to put a little force into my efforts. I braced myself and yanked-

Something erupted from the dirt floor. Something large. Something...coming at me. I turned my flashlight to look.

Words failed me. Images of similar stature escaped my mind just as the life in this place now of horror. What came for me was a madman, with what little of cloth and armor was still holding onto a body barely preserved in this cold world of dark water. His eye sockets stared directly at me, his head moving forward in a seemingly aggressive manner, and his jaw was opened into a silent yet bloodcurdling scream. A long piece of metal was held, no, lashed to his left hand and swung backwards, revealing itself as a rusted sword. His right hand appeared to move outward, clawed bones that were once fingertips reaching out as if to grab me!

I actually screamed, kicking myself up and pushing away from the revenant. My motion caused the body to sway back, the rusted sword now swinging forward as if the dead Norseman was desperately trying to get one last violent act out. I swam not up, but away! I almost dropped my flashlight, thanking God that I still had a death grip upon it. I pushed through the water, heading away from this ghost ship, and I looked behind me. The corpse swayed in the water, still upright, and still looking directly at me with black holes where bloodthirsty eyes once rolled within. I turned back and continued speeding away, frantically looking for that anchor as the site was once again reclaimed by the veil of the abyss.

Several decompressions later, and a few panic attacks afterwards, I made it back to shore. The realization of what happened did little to alleviate the situation; I had pulled a corpse out of the sediments, physics had taken control of its body, and my fear only caused the body to move with the motions of the water. This revelation would finally allow me to go back into water in general, but I never returned to Lake Erie. I would return to those that told me about the Viking, this Bronn fellow, and after I revealed to them what happened to me, they surmised that he had gone on his journey alone; his men obviously abandoned him and his ship, and now he could never leave it. All of that dragging and pushing must have finally broken the boat, sending it and its occupant to their final resting place. So, in a way, Bronn found his "other side".

Even after I had also told my account to the authorities, they had informed me that they had not found the site yet despite my triangulation. They need not hurry; after all, the place was well guarded.