Entering The Arena
You always remember life’s most important first time events. First kiss. First day on the job. First Malort shot. Those firsts happen less frequently the more spins around the sun you make, but I recently had one that I have to tell about: my first morse code QSO.
Late last year, I gave myself a 45 day goal to learn morse code, also known as CW in the amateur radio community. What is morse code? It’s the dit and dah sound that early radio operators used to communicate with each other. Pearl Harbor’s bombing was first communicated over morse code.
How hard could this be? I learned German and French many years ago with the pain dulled by time. After a few days and barely being able to differentiate di-dah and da-dit, I faced the truth that this was going to be quite an uphill climb. After a month, I succumbed to reality with a new target set for Arrl field day.
Day after day, I invested about fifteen minutes. Like the march of a drummer leading to battle, I could feel the distance shrinking to my goal. Some days the drum sounds were no louder than the day before. Other days, I could feel the beat deeper in my soul. Many days, my session ended seemingly right where I started. While the shortest path between two points is a straight line, I was progressing in a zig zag fashion. But eventually, I stood in front of the arena ready to step into the arena.
I had finally built up the nerve to enter the arena and hunt a POTA activator, which requires only sending my callsign and signal report. I found an activator who I could clearly hear. Istalked my target, N4FFF, who called CQ a few times without receiving a response. When I was sure there were no other hunters sending, I leapt up and frantically swung my straight key sword!
My sword clattered and clanked like an earthquake, shaking randomly from side to side. The next swing struck somewhat true, but received a curious response. I luckily recalled the question mark symbol, an indicator of uncertainty. I gave my callsign twice more then listened to an unintelligible string coming through the speaker.
I just waited until hearing silence, then keyed ‘TU UR RST 599 5NN’. I’m sure it sounded like someone using a megaphone in a tunnel. He blazed something else back that sounded like the Gettysburg Address to me, but then I heard the international symbol of “I’m done with you:” dit. dit.
I wasn’t really sure what just happened, but it seemed promising. Was that my first POTA CW hunt? Did I send my callsign clearly enough or does he think I’m some real ham radio operator just two four lokos deep in the evening?
I ran to my club Discord community and recounted the great encounter to my CW elmers, who were very supportive for the excited newbie. My heart rate lowered as I wished everyone a good night and waited for the official activator POTA upload. It felt amazing to have entered the arena and to escape alive to tell the story to my tribe.
The next morning, I scrambled to grab my phone and load the hunter log. As the screen refreshed, I became a CW operator. The first battle was over and I survived.
With that first QSO successfully recorded, I immediately went to hunt more CW POTA activators. Having survived the CW Arena, I wanted to taste the thrill of battle and the pride of surviving the CW Arena.
