Early 70's I left the sea to go to University, Cardiff Institute of Technology, Marine science degree. Used my Chief Officer Certificate as my entrance key. Quite a lot of the guys had A levels, old type, but we were all mature students so we started in February. The idea was that we would do an intensive 6 month course and be examined on the science, maths and english to ensure that we were up to university standard before the start, proper of the academic year. Four year honours course. Hilarious really when you hear about the standard of english and maths of graduates and teachers nowadays.
Yours truly did not start in February, arrived about three weeks late. I had purchased an old folk boat, a thing of beauty, hardwood timbers, gaff rigged on a wooden mast, watermoto engine with controllable pitch propellor (never did get it to work), even the rudder was made of lignum vitae...very very expensive. I only found out the latter when I later tried to chip the paint off the rudder, until then I thought it was iron or steel it was so hard. Decided to get it ready for voyage across to Wales. My mum asked me at the time how I was going to get my A series landy onto the deck of the boat. My mum also assumed that when I went to sea that we stopped every night, god love her and may she rest in peace. Told her would come back for landy, thought it better not to explain that the ships travelled all day and night, she would have worried.
Sailed out of Newcastle harbour, Newcastle N.Ireland that is, on a reasonable February morning. Single handed on a gaff rigged vessel is not for the faint hearted, especialy when you do not have a working engine. Most especially when you arrive outside Dun Laoghaire with a Force 8 gale blowing. Could not see much of inner harbour because of high harbour walls and did not have a radio or VHS, but definately wanted to get a bit of kip for the night. Could not take the sail down completely, had lowered it about half way but every time I left the helm we were in danger of broaching. Decided to go for it, full steam ahead through the harbour entrance. Well, its been a while since I have been to Dun Laoghaire but in the 70's the inner harbour was filled with very smart yachts moored underneath the lighted lounge of the Dun Laoghaire yacht club house on the heights above.
As I came through the entrance at a fair old lick, I could see the members looking down on me. I have not mentioned that my old girl, "Sweet Afton" by the way, had a bloody great bowsprite. A round balk of oak that took the forward halyard and projected about a yard in front of the bow. I could not leave the cockpit as I would lose control of the yacht so the sail stayed up and we carried on our way. The next few minutes must have caused the millonaires in the club house a few anxious moments, as I dodged amongst those very expensive yachts, bowsprite looking like an old fashioned cannon. It would have had a similar effect if I had hit any of them. Finally got my intransigent lady under control and into wind, ran up and dropped my anchor over side. By the time I was lowering the sail the club had sent a launch out to tow me to a safe mooring. Great bunch, allowed me a shower, would not take a penny and bought me drinks all night. Took me back to yacht about midnight.
Next morning, lovely fresh day, rigged sail, let go mooring and sailed out of Dun Laoghaire a lot more sedately than I had entered. Pointed her to the Welsh coast with a nice prevailing wind and felt life was good, apart from a sore head that is. More to follow.
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