U of U Epee Circuit Tournament. On the Dangers of Exhilaration

One of the many memorable incidents in Lean’s “Lawrence of Arabia” is the is the camel charge of the Arab army into Aqaba during WWI. Freddie Young’s cinematography is spectacular; the young Peter O’Toole is dashing and passionate. Nevertheless, glorious as it is, T.E.’s description of the actual event in 7 Pillars of Wisdom is much better dramatically and has the signal virtue of being true. As Lawrence was riding pell-mell down a dune waving and firing his service revolver, his camel was abruptly shot out from beneath him and he was sent tumbling over the poor creature’s head. It was only after he’d stumbled to his senses and the tumult had passed that he realized that in the confusion he, himself, had shot his own mount by mistake. Lawrence’s self-effacing style is sometimes dismissed as disingenuous. I perceive his voice as a lens offering safety and strength through which he was able and willing to see the truth about the violence, chaos and weird, horrific humor of battle. In its own way it’s as immediate and visceral as the Wilfred Owen’s poetry or Hemingway’s early stories.

The incident came to mind Saturday at the USI Epee Circuit Tournament #4 at the University of Utah. Unlike the Weber State venue last month, the gymnasium was spare: just a large room with dirty white walls and, fortunately, a decent wood floor. The venue had been changed at the last minute requiring re-taping and setting all of the strips. Nevertheless, we started on time and the pools and DEs I saw were conducted efficiently and expeditiously. That may sound like a small thing but if you’ve ever participated in a competition where pool bouts were delayed because, for example, over-lapping events ran long, you know how dreary it is and how it can take a terrible toll on performance. If you don’t know when you’re going to fence it’s impossible to be ready.

We arrived a half hour early for the event, as had most of the other fencers. The room was cold. The pale faces and distract conversations suggested a higher level of stress than at the previous circuit tournaments, possibly because it was the last of the year. I stretched, warmed up and bouted with my cousin Robert in preparation, but it wasn’t clearly enough as I realized later. A critical mistake.

My first pool bout was against a newer member of our club. He’s capable, intelligent, athletic and he’s beat me in practice. It was a difficult and exhausting bout but I won with hand touches, one attack into his preparation and counter attacks that closed the line after his attack was short. The key was managing distance and that’s probably the most important thing I’ve been able to put into practice this year. Afterwards, I was confident, a bit exhilarated and totally exhausted. My warm up had been far from sufficient. Lynn suggested I eat a banana and I stupidly refused.

And so after that I promptly lost my remaining 4 pool bouts. Some were against better fencers, but some were not. And though I had a few good touches (a nice bind on a fencer with a rigid arm), my focus and attentiveness were far from where they should have been. Our pools finished early; many of the other strips were still busy. As I looked around, slightly dazed and embarrassed, Lawrence’s experience of shooting his own camel came to mind.

By the time DE’s started I was settled, nourished, warmed up and ready to battle back. I won my first DE, ironically against the clubmate I’d faced in my pool but then lost the second. He was a better fencer by multiple measures but I felt I should have taken more points in the encounter. The one positive point and most important aspect was that my coach came by during the bout and gave me some direction, which I then successfully applied to win a point. It may sound trivial, even to some fencers, but because of the speed and complexity of the sport it can be extremely difficult to do. But it can also be critical: at the last tournament the top fencer in our club won the final match in the tournament in part because he was able to do just that. To my mind, it’s a skill as important as knowing how to advance, lunge or parry.

My favorite bout of the day, however, turned out to be one that I had the pleasure to direct. It was a semifinal in the mixed senior event between two clubmates, Tom Gandy and Dakota Nollner. Both have improved during the last year and I suspect that improvement has not come easily for either, albeit for different reasons. From the very beginning it was clear it would be fierce. Almost every point was careful, demanding and draining. My favorite was the last: they were tied at 14 all. After a little blade play, Dakota suddenly and unexpectedly went for a low percentage shot, a toe touch. And got it. It was both elegant and clever. When he took off his mask and yelled I thought it was one of the few overt displays of passion that day that was merited.

The thing that stood out about the veterans event that followed was that everyone had improved. By now, I was fencing consistently, and doing consistently better. I was where I should have been in the morning when we’d first started.

Two regrets: the first, which I’ve already mentioned, is that in spite of my age and experience I persist in learning things the hard way. The second is that because I spent so much time watching the people I was competing against, I saw little of the other bouts, particularly, Lynn’s and Robert’s.

Fencing Instructor Essentials

“The best thing for being sad,” replied Merlyn…, “is to learn something. That is the only thing that never fails. You may grow old and trembling in your anatomies, you may lie awake at night listening to the disorder of your veins, you may miss your only love, you may see the world about you devastated by evil lunatics, or know your honour trampled in the sewers of baser minds. There is only one thing for it then – to learn. Learn why the world wags and what wags it. That is the only thing which the mind can never exhaust, never alienate, never be tortured by, never fear or distrust, and never dream of regretting. Learning is the thing for you. Look at what a lot of things there are to learn – pure science, the only purity there is. You can learn astronomy in a lifetime, natural history in three, literature in six. And then, after you have exhausted a milliard lifetimes in biology and medicine and theo-criticism and geography and history and economics – why, you can start to make a cartwheel out of the appropriate wood, or spend fifty years learning to begin to learn to beat your adversary at fencing. After that you can start again on mathematics, until it is time to learn to plough.”
(Merlyn to Arthur in T. H. White’s, The Once and Future King.)

I don’t know how much White is read these days, I fear he is less popular than he once was, which is unfortunate. His magnum opus is sometimes dismissed as pastiche which is lamentable and ironic as he is in many ways a 21st century novelist. He understood the medieval world in a way few people of his century did, (T. E. Lawrence being an interesting exception.) That is to say, he understood it by doing it. For example, he raised a hunting hawk using the medieval method using Hohenstaufen’s classic work as his guide and chronicled it in The Goshawk one of the finest and deepest books about a relationship between a man and a wild creature. Then there is that quote above. One can “spend fifty years learning to begin to learn to beat your adversary at fencing.” That isn’t hyperbole; it’s the practical humility of someone who actually fenced for years.

In that regard, I think my own skill has improved a little. For example, at open fencing a few nights ago I sensed I was at least a more interesting adversary to some of the more advanced fencers in the club. When I make a list of reasons for it, my coach, Kenny Nopens, tops the list. Here’s why:

1. Relentless attention to precision and detail. For example, something as basic as a parry four is still a complex movement of larger and smaller muscles requiring split second precision and nearly autonomic response. Kenny is able both to communicate that and work relentlessly with his students to achieve it. And that applies to everything: foot work, blade work, timing, observation, tactics, strategy.

2. Adaptability. In our club our fencers ages span fifty years. Kenny is able to work within the challenging and changing bounds of every person’s interest, skill, physical capacity and does so with good cheer and diligence.

3. Patience. When I taught (just before the end of the last ice age) I used to believe I was a patient instructor and I learned how crucial patience is. Kenny exceeds that by an order of magnitude. It produces results; I’m constantly amazed at how quickly his students improve and excel in competition.

4. Inspiration. On numerous occasions, Lynn, Robert and I have walked outside after a lesson and one of us has commented, “that was an amazing class,” even after practicing basic parries, or something equally fundamental. The reason is the depth Kenny approaches everything, whether basic or advanced. After each class, I always want to fence more and be a better fencer.

The point of this is not to embarrass my coach with praise (albeit deserved) but rather to identify what I think are the most important attributes for a successful coach, which I’ve just done.

Finally, on another note, I’m beginning to believe the multiple anecdotal pieces of evidence that suggest our sport is growing and in interesting ways. I don’t know that I believe Tim Morehouse’s quote that the number of fencers in the US has quadrupled in the last two years but I do know that the fencing equipment suppliers are doing well and that media attention appears to be increasing. And, there’s the local data point: our club is doing well.

Pocatello Epee Circuit Tournament

The first Saturday, October 16 and all too soon after our return from Wales, was the USI Epee Circuit #2 tournament. Needless to say, we’d had three weeks to forget everything and I felt I’d done a particularly good job of it. In my still relatively new experience, I find that my skill as a fencer is highly dependent on the quality and amount of recent practice, my attitude and my level of adrenalin. Balancing them is as important as skill.

Nevertheless, we rose at 5:00, fed the tigers, made cheddar and Branston pickle sandwiches and coffee for breakfast on the road and set out. Though I’m a native westerner I’d never been to Pocatello and was pleased to discover how beautiful that part of Idaho was. I found autumnal distances, mountains and hills nicely settling. Lynn was particularly quiet. It was her first tournament. I completely understood.

I was very pleased with the venue, the Pocatello Methodist church, when we arrived. The gymnasium had abundant natural light from open windows through which fall trees were visible. We warmed up, dressed and greeted the people we knew and appraised the ones we didn’t.

My pool for the first event, mixed seniors, was a challenge: three C rated fencers and one other E, a clubmate, Kim Grundvig, who regularly beats me. This time, I beat her and came close with one of the Cs, the score was 5-4. Not a brilliant performance but given my lack of practice, respectable. Nevertheless, as a result, I expected immediate and certain death in my first DE. As it turned out, I won my first DE, (against another clubmate, a D rated fencer). My next DE, against another clubmate, Dakota Nollner, was another experience all together. I hadn’t fenced Dakota since early in the summer and in my estimation his fencing has taken a significant step. He was moving much better, hiding his attacks much more effectively. I won a couple of points then I never came close again.

Meanwhile, Lynn and Robert, who had been in other pools, were having some interesting times of their own. Robert told me later he found the first part of the day particularly difficult and Lynn was in the middle of a nail-biting first ever DE in which both fencers had periods of being ahead. At the end, they were tied at fourteen all and I recalled that Lynn has noted multiple times how hard it is for her at that stage in a bout to rise to the occasion. At that point, the fencers removed their masks, saluted each other and the director because it had been such a good bout and resumed. Of course, the tension was palpable. Lynn told me later that she simply decided she would not lose this time. She didn’t and won her first DE and a medal, as third among the women in the event.

In the afternoon, Lynn, Robert and I participated in a much smaller veterans event: only two additional fencers participated, one of whom, Jennifer Nopens, happens to be Dakota Nollner’s mother and the wife of our coach, Kenny Nopens. She and Kenny jointly manage our club and do a phenomenal job of it. I was aware that Robert hadn’t been doing as well as he’d liked and decided I had a good chance of medaling and perhaps even winning. And I was further encouraged by winning all four of my pool bouts. Then, in my second DE, I faced my nemesis: my cousin Robert. His fencing suddenly and dramatically improved: his stance was better, his attacks were more clever and hard to predict and though it was close at the beginning, it wasn’t at the end. His final DE, against Jenny, was a nail-biter, but Robert was as solid as I’ve ever seen him and he won the bout to take the gold. His grin in the photo says it all.

After that we watched and cheered for Kim in a particularly difficult DE with a Pocatello Club fencer, Amy McGary, in the mixed college practice event.

After the requisite ceremony and pictures, we joined Kenny and Jenny and several other members of the club for garlicky salads at Buddy’s restaurant. Kenny was chuffed: it had been a good day for our club: we’d taken first in 5 of the 7 events, and in Senior mixed, Dakota had taken third out of a field of 18.
Now, it’s November, some of the fall color is still with us but there’s snow in the peaks of the Wasatch and Oquirr mountains. Skiing is coming. We have another tournament this weekend. Time to practice.

Fencing again

Afternoon light filters down from the high windows. The gymnasium is empty but for the club-mates and friends on the bleachers who’ve stayed to watch. I’m hyperaware, sensitive to so many contrasts. Everything is distant through the patina of my mask’s screen. But there is also immediacy and adrenalin. I’m facing my opponent alone on the piste. Then there are the contrasts of time. We’re fighting with swords, a continuous practice thousands of years old. But this is modern, dynamic sport fencing, liberated by new athleticism and innovation. And right now each instant has meaning. I’m down, 13 to 14. I wait, provoke an attack with an exposed shoulder, successfully parry and riposte in one gesture. I hear a muffled sound of cheering from some of my club-mates and university students. The score is tied. It’s the final match of the novice event.




How did I come to this? I’m a reluctant athlete in my fifties facing an eighteen year old who’s faster and a better fencer. I’ve never had anyone cheer for me in an athletic endeavor in my entire life and probably won’t again. I decide I’d better appreciate it.

That was on March 27th in a rural area called South Weber at the base of a canyon in Utah’s Wasatch Mountains. It’s known for unusual high winds. All the trees arc to the west and the fences are bent or missing slats. In spite of recent residential development the place is still rugged and severe.

And I was there because after two years of classes with my wife and cousin, I’d finally tried competing at my cousin’s prompting. This was only my third tournament. I was also there because of my coach’s unending patience, diligence and gentle dedication to excellence in the sport. It is no surprise to me that one of the best fencers in the state is in our club and was accepted to Duke this year on a fencing scholarship.

I have discovered I’m in love with fencing. I love the diversity of the participants, from fierce six year-old foilists to the small set of veteran epeeists. I love the devotion of the local clubs.

So this entry is a thank you for those who’ve helped me find the sport, my coach and the local competitors, nearly all of whom are better than I.

Oh yes, I should mention, I lost the last point. It was timing. But both my cousin and I returned from the tournament with metals, something neither of us expected. As nice as that is, it’s not the important thing. The important thing is that, for the most part, I fenced as well as I could that day and even a few short weeks later I’m fencing better. My wife, my cousin and I celebrated that evening at a small restaurant in Salt Lake called the Paris Bistro. Dinner, a good red wine, beet salad and local Utah rack of lamb was excellent. We were late coming back and so ate dinner in our whites.