AN ANCIENT ART No matter how you say it, ‘atlatl’ competition is historic
The first thing you need to know about the prehistoric throwing weapon, the atlatl, is that no one seems to be able to agree on how the Aztec word for it is pronounced.
There’s “attle-attle,” and “at-attle,” and even “at-lattle.”
But the second thing you should know is that for those who compete in modern day atlatl competitions — trying to hit the bull’s-eye of targets, like an archery contest — it is more than just another weapon to them.
Given its use as the primary hunting tool by humans for thousands of years before it was replaced by the bow and arrow, for most competitors there is a near-spiritual element to it. It allows them to connect to thousands of years of human history.
But if that competition takes place on a field just above the Meadowcroft Rockshelter near Avella, where there have been human settlements going back 19,000 years, and where the atlatl was probably used to catch a meal, well, atlatl practitioners — generally a pretty contemplative group anyway — can sound positively poetic when explaining what it means to them.
“It’s totally special” to be here to compete, Doug Bassett, 65, a
five-time World Atlatl Association world champion from Warsaw, N.Y., said Saturday as he prepared to throw in the 22nd annual Meadowcroft Atlatl competition.
When you’re not throwing in competition, he said, “you can be down at the rock shelter and see the same stream that people have looked at for more than 10,000 years, and see the same birds, and the same plants. It’s a timeless place.” (And for the record, he pronounces it “attle-attle.”)
Victor Ahearne, 51, of Schuylkill Haven, Pa., who has been competing in atlatl competitions for 25 years, and now runs a small business, selling atlatls and the “darts” that are thrown from them into the target, said though there are hundreds of atlatl competitions around the world every year, coming to Meadowcroft “has always been important to me because it brings that spiritual link.”
“Knowing our ancestors lived here and used these? That’s special,” he said.
Every one of the 20 competitors who attended this weekend’s competition knew about the “Miller Point,” one of the most significant artifacts excavated from Meadowcroft’s history when it was discovered in 1976.
The small arrowhead could well have been a point on a dart used with an atlatl, said David Scofield, director of Meadowcroft Rockshelter and Historic Village, and is believed to be 14,000 years old.
Though no atlatls have been found at the Meadowcroft site — likely because little of anything made of wood in this climate would survive — atlatls have been found in other native settlements, and were first documented and named when the Spanish invaded the Aztecs and got the word “atlatl,” a term they came to understandably fear.
The Spanish learned quickly a dart thrown with the atlatl “could pierce armor,” Mr. Scofield said.
It also could help throw a dart incredibly far. The current world record for throwing a dart with an atlatl is 283 yards — nearly three football fields.
The atlatl is most commonly made of wood, but also of animal horn. The feathered darts also can be made of wood and large grasses, like bamboo, but now are made of everything from plastic to aluminum to the $55 carbon fiber darts that Mr. Ahearne sells.
The atlatl essentially functions as an extra lever to propel the darts both farther and faster than they would if you were just throwing them like a spear, much the same way a cesta in jai alai is used to propel the hard rubber ball, or pelota, faster.
Every competitor Saturday had a handmade atlatl that was as different as the person who made them.
Some had two “rests” — the V-shaped wooden pieces that hold the darts in place before being thrown — but some had just one. Some had fingerholds to better grip the atlatl as it was thrown, with some made of wood, some of leather and some that had no fingerholds. Some had “spurs,” which hold the back end of the dart in place until it is thrown, made of antler, some out of wood and some out of plastic.
“Everyone’s is different,” said Mr. Bassett, who spent 75 hours designing and building his atlatl, using three different types of wood, and adding three stone weights — bound to the shaft of the atlatl — to give it balance.
Some people have been trying to perfectly duplicate authentic atlatls found from prehistoric humans, but everyone has their own likes, Mr. Bassett said, even if they aren’t exactly what was used 10,000 years ago.
That connection to the past is why Meadowcroft first agreed to host an atlatl competition in 1997.
“Part of our philosophy here is to do hands-on activity that teaches about history, or, in this case, pre-history,” said Mr. Scofield, who has been director since 1998. “This [atlatl competition] seemed a good way to do that.”
So, in addition to the competition, which attracted competitors from five states, there was one target throwing area set up for newcomers to give the atlatl a try.
“It’s just like throwing a softball,” said Alex Grunaski, 23, of Wheeling, W.Va., who was on a date with Sam Carroll, 25, of Washington, who had suggested trying the atlatl as part of their day out. “It was harder than I thought,” Mr. Carroll said. “The resistance of it was more than I thought it would be. And it was nothing like archery. It’d be harder to hit a deer with this.”
Susan Gunchuck, 61, of Fredericktown, Pa., brought her granddaughter, Caridee Kubicar, 8, to try the atlatl and later go see the rock shelter.
After a couple throws in which she got better and better, Caridee said it wasn’t as strange as she thought and “it felt like it was something I did before, but I wasn’t sure what.”
Her grandmother said it probably felt like casting a fishing pole to her.
Whatever it was, Caridee said, oblivious to the history she was enmeshed it, or how to properly pronounced atlatl said: “It was fun. I just liked it.”