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Please make a post about the story of the RMS Carpathia, because it's something that's almost beyond belief and more people should know about it.

Carpathia received Titanic’s distress signal at 12:20am, April 15th, 1912. She was 58 miles away, a distance that absolutely could not be covered in less than four hours.

(Californian’s exact position at the time is…controversial. She was close enough to have helped. By all accounts she was close enough to see Titanic’s distress rockets. It’s uncertain to this day why her crew did not respond, or how many might not have been lost if she had been there. This is not the place for what-ifs. This is about what was done.)

Carpathia’s Captain Rostron had, yes, rolled out of bed instantly when woken by his radio operator, ordered his ship to Titanic’s aid and confirmed the signal before he was fully dressed. The man had never in his life responded to an emergency call. His goal tonight was to make sure nobody who heard that fact would ever believe it.

All of Carpathia’s lifeboats were swung out ready for deployment. Oil was set up to be poured off the side of the ship in case the sea turned choppy; oil would coat and calm the water near Carpathia if that happened, making it safer for lifeboats to draw up alongside her. He ordered lights to be rigged along the side of the ship so survivors could see it better, and had nets and ladders rigged along her sides ready to be dropped when they arrived, in order to let as many survivors as possible climb aboard at once.

I don’t know if his making provisions for there still being survivors in the water was optimism or not. I think he knew they were never going to get there in time for that. I think he did it anyway because, god, you have to hope.

Carpathia had three dining rooms, which were immediately converted into triage and first aid stations. Each had a doctor assigned to it. Hot soup, coffee, and tea were prepared in bulk in each dining room, and blankets and warm clothes were collected to be ready to hand out. By this time, many of the passengers were awake–prepping a ship for disaster relief isn’t quiet–and all of them stepped up to help, many donating their own clothes and blankets.

And then he did something I tend to refer to as diverting all power from life support.

Here’s the thing about steamships: They run on steam. Shocking, I know; but that steam powers everything on the ship, and right now, Carpathia needed power. So Rostron turned off hot water and central heating, which bled valuable steam power, to everywhere but the dining rooms–which, of course, were being used to make hot drinks and receive survivors. He woke up all the engineers, all the stokers and firemen, diverted all that steam back into the engines, and asked his ship to go as fast as she possibly could. And when she’d done that, he asked her to go faster.

I need you to understand that you simply can’t push a ship very far past its top speed. Pushing that much sheer tonnage through the water becomes harder with each extra knot past the speed it was designed for. Pushing a ship past its rated speed is not only reckless–it’s difficult to maneuver–but it puts an incredible amount of strain on the engines. Ships are not designed to exceed their top speed by even one knot. They can’t do it. It can’t be done.

Carpathia’s absolute do-or-die, the-engines-can’t-take-this-forever top speed was fourteen knots. Dodging icebergs, in the dark and the cold, surrounded by mist, she sustained a speed of almost seventeen and a half.

No one would have asked this of them. It wasn’t expected. They were almost sixty miles away, with icebergs in their path. They had a respondibility to respond; they did not have a responsibility to do the impossible and do it well. No one would have faulted them for taking more time to confirm the severity of the issue. No one would have blamed them for a slow and cautious approach. No one but themselves.

They damn near broke the laws of physics, galloping north headlong into the dark in the desperate hope that if they could shave an hour, half an hour, five minutes off their arrival time, maybe for one more person those five minutes would make the difference. I say: three people had died by the time they were lifted from the lifeboats. For all we know, in another hour it might have been more. I say they made all the difference in the world.

This ship and her crew received a message from a location they could not hope to reach in under four hours. Just barely over three hours later, they arrived at Titanic’s last known coordinates. Half an hour after that, at 4am, they would finally find the first of the lifeboats. it would take until 8:30 in the morning for the last survivor to be brought onboard. Passengers from Carpathia universally gave up their berths, staterooms, and clothing to the survivors, assisting the crew at every turn and sitting with the sobbing rescuees to offer whatever comfort they could.

In total, 705 people of Titanic’s original 2208 were brought onto Carpathia alive. No other ship would find survivors.

At 12:20am April 15th, 1912, there was a miracle on the North Atlantic. And it happened because a group of humans, some of them strangers, many of them only passengers on a small and unimpressive steam liner, looked at each other and decided: I cannot live with myself if I do anything less.

I think the least we can do is remember them for it.

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My cartoon for this week’s Guardian books.

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fiber crafts is like oh you think you know how to count? think again. also count again.

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just because someone can articulate their point better doesn’t make them right, it makes them articulated. 

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This is a water-seal stoneware crock. The design is ancient.

It is, essentially, a large ceramic vessel that you put vegetables and sometimes brine into. To prevent spoilage, you place those ceramic weights on top of whatever food is in the crock, and that keeps them weighted down, below the level of the water. Because fermentation creates gases, most crocks have a "water groove" in them. The lid sits in the groove, which allows air to escape but not come in. Because fermentation creates gas, the interior of the crock is positive-pressure, and because the gas created is almost entirely carbon dioxide, it's a low-oxygen environment that additionally helps prevent spoilage.

And all this would be pointless without lactobacillus, the bacteria that chomp down on the vegetables you put into the crock. They're anaerobic, which means totally fine without oxygen, and they produce an environment that's inhospitable to most other organisms. The main things they produce are CO2, which means no oxygen for other bacteria, and lactic acid, which makes the fermented thing sour and also decreases the pH low enough that many other bacteria cannot survive. They tolerate high levels of salt, which kill yet more competitor bacteria. It ends up being a really really good way to keep food from going off.

Our ancestors figured this out thousands of years ago without knowing what bacteria were. This general ceramic design has been in use around the world in virtually every place that had ceramics, salt, and too much cabbage or cucumbers that was going to rot if they didn't do something about it. It's thousands of years old, so old that it gets hard to interpret the evidence of the ceramics.

And I have crocks like this in my kitchen, where I make my own ferments, and I always think about how beautiful and elegant it all is, and how this was probably invented hundreds of times as people converged on something that Just Works.

(I do have pH testing strips though.)

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i wish people would normalize being lost in life and just not knowing anything. not knowing what you’re passionate about, where you want to live, what you want to do, where you want to go— or what lies next. as a society, we normalized going to school, finding a passion, getting a job, finding a partner, getting married, having kids, working hard to earn an honest living. but what about when shit just doesn’t go that way? you really just don’t know. and what’s even worse is, you don’t know why you don’t know or even where to start so you feel alone. you feel as though you’re a disappointment to your family. as if you failed in life. but you haven’t, it’s okay, to not know. to be lost. you have your whole life ahead of you to figure things out. patience is a virtue. there is no time limit on life. you don’t need to rush. don’t allow society to fixate the narrative of having all your shit together at a certain age. it isn’t realistic for most. being lost is so much more normal than we think. and i just wish people would be more transparent about it.

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At the gate for my flight home from visiting friends and there's a woman here with a service Shiba Inu. No pics because he has a Do Not Disturb vest and taking pics of strangers is illegal but I need to stress how ON DUTY this animal is. Ears up. Eyes doing Lazer scans of everything. Examining everyone who passes within 10ft like a security guard. Ass planted on her feet. I have never seen a dog with such intense chivalric guardian energy before. He has tiny eyebrows and they are FURROWED with concentration.

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That Seems Totally Unnecessary. 

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rb to tell prev they're being so brave right now and pat their head a little please

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I'm not upset discussions of Sally Ride these days don't leave out the fact that she was a lesbian and therefore the first known queer person in space (albeit a fact only known after her death), but I hate that the fact that what is left out is that she, while part of the Roger's Commission after Challenger exploded, was the whistleblower who made sure the information for the defects of the O-rings made its way to Richard Feynman, who then famously, publicly, and on camera demonstrated how icy coldness (such as the cold and icy weather the morning before Challenger launched) could critically deform the O-rings used and keep them from forming a seal. This was also only revealed after she died. (x)

Whenever Sally Ride comes up these days among my (overwhelmingly queer) friends, we all acknowledge that she was a lesbian and celebrate what a role model she was not just for girls but for queer kids (and adults) too, but everyone is always surprised when I bring up the whistleblowing thing, which I think is damn shame and a disservice to her legacy.

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Real and implied birds.

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Donate to Back Story's Education and Conservation Work:

Hello y'all! You know me now as Story, but some of you might remember me better as Vampireapologist or Mallaidh-Anne.

I am thrilled to have accepted an offer to attend University College Dublin’s School of Irish, Celtic Studies and Folklore this autumn (2025).

Although I graduated at the top of my class in my undergraduate degree, and I happily earned a small scholarship through community service work in 2022, I cannot afford the cost of attendance on my own. I am therefore turning to my community for support.

I do not ask lightly, and it is only after many months of encouragement and insistence of friends and family that I am taking this step.

I have dedicated the last eight years of my life to the study, preservation, interpretation, and presentation of natural resources and cultural heritage.

It's my ambition to continue and expand my work, in service to ecological conservation and community involvement, focused on the intrinsic link between cultural and natural heritage.

In 2023, I was thrilled to accept an unconditional offer to UCD for 2024. Unfortunately, health complications exacerbated by a Covid-19 infection interrupted my path, and I had to defer my offer for one year. I pivoted to a work-from-home job with less physical demands, to focus on intensive, weekly medical treatments and to save money for school. In my free time, I continued my conservation work with my former colleagues, as a volunteer for the marine mammal rescue team. I also co-founded a grassroots nonprofit which serves Queer people in rural, island communities.

Read More about my education and service goals below, or go directly to the GoFundMe page for more information!

Donations can be made to the GoFundMe OR for as little as $1.00 via PayPal to my Ko-Fi (click this link)! All donations will go directly to a savings account for this fund.

While my health has vastly improved so I can confidently succeed in school, I was impacted by layoffs in November 2024, dashing my school-savings goal. Despite my tireless efforts, I have yet to find full-time work. Like many Queer people who grew up in Appalachia, I have tangled with poverty in adulthood and even overcome homelessness. I work hard to keep up with everyday expenses, but I have no savings. I cannot defer a second time.

This GoFundMe will cover immediate costs, including tuition, residency permits, and course fees. It will supplement other costs, including accommodations, health insurance, and class materials. This is a one-year graduate degree program, and I am seeking support for one year.

As a donor, you will play a crucial role in my life, empowering me to work my hardest and secure a future that would be otherwise out of reach. This may be a one-year program, but it will chart the course I follow for the rest of my life.

If you have income to spare and the desire to support my future, I gratefully accept your donation. If you cannot donate, you can share a link to this campaign to offer support.

This campaign will end August 1, 2025, to meet my tuition and relocation deadlines.

Thank you, sincerely, for empowering me to continue my work and education and dedicate myself to ecological and cultural conservation! You can read more about the cost breakdown, my scholarships, and other information directly on the GoFundMe page!

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We also figured out—the hard way—that the ancients probably cut each layer of linen to the proper shape before gluing them together. For our first linothorax, we glued together 15 layers of linen to form a one centimeter-thick slab, and then tried to cut out the required shape. Large shears were defeated; bolt cutters failed. The only way we were ultimately able to cut the laminated linen slab was with an electric saw equipped with a blade for cutting metal. At least this confirmed our suspicion that linen armor would have been extremely tough. We also found out that linen stiffened with rabbit glue strikes dogs as in irresistibly tasty rabbit-flavored chew toy, and that our Labrador retriever should not be left alone with our research project.

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Reblog if you think it’s okay to platonically say “I Love You” to your friends