Tale of a Working Boatman (Approx 3500 words!)
Greg Chapman
anticipation that one would finish the day bronzed and incredibly
attractive to the opposite sex without being the slightest bit burned,
rippling water and a gentle breeze, bird song in the surrounding trees
and the gentle burble of a diesel engine at tickover coming in to moor
at the pumps outside the marina opposite.
Well! It wasn't like that!
Saturday was overcast, with many clouds still lower than the dull grey
ceiling that was the sky above the Ely waterfront. The breeze was
anything but gentle. The clouds scudded across the sky appearing to
bump into that ceiling above and once or twice were to spill just a
little of their contents.
I had arrived at 11:00, armed with keys supplied by Stephen King, owner
of Liberty Belle. This was to be my first day as a working boatman!
How I remember the days of my youth, when I imagined such a day! The
joy of that first time each year, in the sea off Sandown beach, with my
brother, astride a Li-Lo, singing "Ooooh, a life on the ocean waves is
better than life at school...". The family's tradition of a fortnight
by the seaside every summer in the mid-1950s has a lot to answer for.
But this wasn't the ocean waves. This was just the quiet backwaters of
the Great Ouse passing through Ely. But it was earning a wage on the
water, and I never had done that before. This was to be an important
moment in my life!
Though, it didn't turn out like that!
Clutching the notes, which Stephen had sent me, following my day's
training the previous Sunday, I reminded myself how to prepare the boat
for its first passengers. The cushions were in place along the benches.
The sign boards were out on the quay. I had plugged in the microphone
and checked the amplifier. I'd negotiated the precarious gunnel on the
far side without incident and managed to roll up the sidescreen neatly
and fixed the press studs to keep it in place.
The life belts had been placed on the roof. The stern tube greaser had
been turned. The engine had been test run. The gauge needles were
pointing where they should. The circuit alarms had made all the right
noises at all the right times. The bow and aft mooring lines had been
released and the Liberty Belle was now held in place against the quay
only by a short line from an eye mid-way along the gunnel ending in a
simple galvanised hook attached to a mooring ring on the quay. Only the
tension provided by the engine, at idle and in forward gear, ensured the
hook didn't become disengaged.
Now there I stood, a large leather change bag hung over my shoulder. I
imagined that, apart from the lack of London Transport uniform and
ticket punch, I looked quite the bus conductors on the 118 route that
ran past our front door, between Clapham and Raynes Park, back in the
days when those seaside holidays were taken. I was ready! I was a
working boatman!
Well! Actually, I wasn't!
I would have been a working boatman, but there were no passengers. It
was mid-day, the time of the first scheduled 30 minute trip. Those who
were on the waterfront seemed to be making a bee-line for the Maltings,
which according to the script of the commentary that Stephen had
supplied, was built in 1868 and had a working life of about 100 years.
As the script explained, having survived a fire, it was now used,
amongst other things, as an exhibition hall, and today was the day of
the annual Ely Model Railway Exhibition. Given the weather, it was
hardly surprising those that were around were not interested in a boat
trip.
The rain didn't last long. In fact, there was so little you could still
see the individual drops protruding like randomly placed miniature
rivets, from the chocolate-brown painted stern deck. So what does a
working boatman do, when there's no cargo? Like a fireman from Penny
Lane, he sets to and polishes the brass! That seemed to do the trick.
A mother and young daughter appeared. "Can we eat our sandwiches on
board?" asked the mother. "Of course!", says I, figuring that at least
people might realise that the Liberty Belle wasn't just some static
aquatic exhibit, if there were some others already aboard. To make them
feel at ease I even pointed out that there was a large swing bin on
board where they could throw all their rubbish, in case they felt that
it all looked too tidy for sandwich munching.
At last! I was a true working boatman!
It was 12:35. We set off, on the dot, with my two passengers aboard. I
set the revs at 1600rpm. I had been told that, if late, 1700rpm would
cut half a minute off the trip. That precision had surprised me during
training the previous week, but then Stephen is a much practiced
professional, with experience on the Thames as well as the Great Ouse
and Cam! What I hadn't experienced was the wind. In spite of the
script being encased in the plastic sleeves of a presentation binder,
the pages were being blown over. I had to wedge the clipboard over them
to keep them in place, while I stumbled over the words about Babylon,
where the river went to downstream, and how, with enough time and a
suitable boat you could reach London, Bristol, Liverpool and Leeds from
here. I'd like to say that the rest of the trip proceeded without
incident.
But, it wasn't like that!
The moment approached that I had worried about most - the return to the
quay! It had been the weakest part of my efforts, during training, the
previous week. Now I had to face up to doing it solo. I felt a sudden
empathy with the pilots of Apollo 8's Lunar Module when approaching the
Moon's surface. OK! I hadn't got several million TV viewers taking
note of my every move, but I had got half dozen fresh passengers on the
quay, and a selection of other gongoozlers, and unlike those TV viewers
back in 1969, they weren't about to board the vessel which I was
piloting directly towards them.
Of course, it wasn't the plan to be heading straight for them!
The plan was to sweep in a gentle arc towards the mooring. Then, with a
deft bit of reverse gear, and the paddlewheel action of the propeller,
now turning backwards, the stern would nudge the quay first, allowing me
to step ashore, flick the hook over the mooring ring, and proceed to the
front of the boat where I could assist passengers disembark and warn
them to watch their step and head as they came off the boat.
So much for the plan! Does a working boatman offer explanations or
excuses? It was like this M'Lud!
Stephen had demonstrated how to approach and I had had three goes at it
myself the previous week. The first two of those attempts were
following his detailed instructions with regard to helm, revs and
forward and reverse gear. Only one of those attempts had been, what I
thought was passable. Stephen had explained how he had even specified
the screw so that on engaging reverse the stern would be swung into the
quay. But none of this seemed to work for me now. Stephen had said
that the secret was in doing it slow. I had failed to get the stern in
first. This wouldn't be a worry, if boating by yourself, but there's
the risk that passengers will suddenly take it into their heads to
disembark before the boat is secure, with all the risks that that
implies.
But all seemed well! My passengers left, with the mother remarking on
it being a pleasant trip. Obviously, they had been totally unaware of
the worries of a working boatman! Now for the next worry!
Those not used to boats, often don't appreciate the implications of the
fact that boats float. This means they bob up and down in the water.
They bob more if you suddenly place a large load on one side. That's
just what happens every time someone gets in or out. Now, you, dear
reader, will be aware of all this. Passengers on trip boats, even if
they think about it as they step aboard, once they have negotiated the
steps and are down on the "level" deck, often seem to forget. They
compose themselves, look around, and stride forth boldly to their chosen
seat.
Now imagine, dear reader, that the next person to board, is not some
slender young thing, fresh from the catwalks of a fashion show and is,
instead, someone whose bulk, if slightly differently arranged, could be
used to smooth freshly laid tarmac on a motorway. The effect, as you
know, will be to materially change the angle of the boat. As our
original passenger takes their second or third step, with less care and
ever gaining confidence, the floor is no longer in the expected
position, but instead several inches lower or higher. The effect, is
not unlike that where someone runs along a springboard over a swimming
pool and misjudges the bounce in the board. We've all seen it many
times on "You've been Framed" and we all laugh like mad as unexpectedly
horizontal, our subject finds themselves travelling in directions and at
speeds they certainly did not intend. Stephen had given me detailed
descriptions of passengers, having bounced of others, on their backs
legs in the air, with skirt around their heads, having to be calmed down
and sorted out.
To counter all this, my training said that I was to stand astride bank
and boat, with 80% of my weight on the boat. That way I would be able
to pull my legs together to counter any tendency of passengers to push
to boat off, and also, should a passenger be particularly large, ease my
weight onto the bank foot as they stepped aboard, so minimising any
sudden change in the angle of the boat.
I can tell you that I rapidly decided that this manoeuvre, when done
while engaged in tasks of mental arithmetic, of a kind not attempted in
thirty-odd years, but necessary to calculate, and then find in ones
shoulder bag, the right change, is the kind which only those who are
bold enough to take part in simultaneous sessions of "The Krypton
Factor" and "The Weakest Link" should consider. However, I seemed to
manage it, and we set off for the second trip.
This time, I was just reaching the part of the commentary where I talk
of the last of the old eel catchers of Ely, when there he was! Sid, a
wonderfully wizened local, of untold years was there, on his boat, a
blue-hulled wooden cabin cruiser. What's more he was waving at me. For
a moment panic set in. Was I too close? Was I about to wreck his nets?
My commentary was becoming a little hesitant by now, not just because
the wind was whipping the pages over but as I struggled to decide
whether I should be moving into deeper water in mid-river. I struggled
to continue to articulate the carefully constructed script, paced to
work at 1600rpm.
Finally I decided that this was just a friendly greeting. Perhaps, his
eyes losing their faculties, after so long spent staring in the water
for eels, had mistaken me for Stephen. Perhaps, Stephen had briefed him
that I would be on Liberty Belle today, reminding him of the fellow that
had sat next to him for a meal in the Maltings, the last time that
Anglia TV had come to film a documentary on the Ely waterfront.
Whatever the reason, with microphone in one hand and tiller in the
other, I had no spare arm with which to acknowledge him. I finished
reading the sentence and flipped the switch to off as I placed it on the
cabin roof, only to watch it crash to the deck below as I raised my hand
to wave. The microphone's fall was broken only slightly by the cable
from which it dangled, and the spring like action of the mesh dome on
its top popping off and rolling its own course towards the open cabin
doors and the depths of the cabin beyond. By the time I had picked up
the microphone again and reconstructed the microphone, Sid was well
astern. There was no point in pointing him out to my passengers and
they had missed the chance of knowing that they had seen the great man
himself who, every day of the season, still sends of Ely eels to top
restaurants in London. Three minutes later we were passing the spot
again. Sid, and his boat, were gone not to return.
In spite of, from my perspective, another imperfect landing. Once more
there were pleasant remarks about the trip as the passengers
disembarked.
The next trip, too was only a half load. A man had flashed past me and
onto the boat. "He's not with us!" said another, who I thought had been
head of the queue, as I arranged myself in the required position,
astride boat and quay. Having got the fare from him and sorted out the
change, which caused problems, as he needed a fiver, which I didn't have
until after I'd got the following party on board. We set off and there
I was, pen in hand, knowing I'd got six on board, but only one according
to the ticket numbers I had to record on the waybill. It took me a
while to work out that I'd managed to forget to issue the tickets rather
than mis-record the numbers last time around.
No dramas on the trip this time. I did have to do a bit of hasty
reversing as I boat did a U-turn in front of me and headed for a gap in
the boats on the bank opposite Sid's mooring.
No dramas? Well! Not until I came into moor again!
Perhaps I should have explained last time. Part of the reason for my
difficulty, is that Liberty Belle is not a purpose designed trip boat
for Ely. Bought as a shell by Stephen, it is based on a design used, in
days gone by, by Canal Company Directors, for the annual inspection
cruise of their waterway. It has short bow and stern decks and a roof
running the full length of the rest of the boat. The roof covers an
open cockpit for the first third of its length, a glazed cabin for the
second part, though Stephen has not fitted glass and has the roll-up
side screens instead, and a fully enclosed cabin towards the aft, which
has just a couple of small portholes. the significant thing about the
design, however, is the hinged hatch in the roof at the forward end.
This is where the steps are and passengers embark and disembark. It is
on the port side. And the quay is on the left bank!
This means that one has to come alongside the quay facing downstream.
Not the way one is taught to do, if you want to maintain control of a
boat. Not only that, on this day, a magnificent GRP cruiser complete
with flying bridge, of some 13ft beam was breasted up with a similar
only slightly smaller vessel immediately upstream of Liberty Belle's
mooring.
Conscious that Stephen had said the secret is to do it slow, this time
approached still slower than before.
Mistake!
I had slowed so much I lost all steerage way. I looked behind me and
realised that I had swung the tiller over a full 90 degrees. In that
state the rudder was acting virtually as a brake, not a steering device.
I was now at drifting gently sideways and pointing directly at the bank.
My stern was turning, but the wrong way, caught by the wind and flow of
the river, while the bows were nicely out of both the wind and eddies
from two breasted boats upstream.
Had I been in a conventional narrowboat, equipped for use on the canals,
I'd have nuzzled the bows into the bank and then applied a bit of
throttle to bring her round. But Liberty Belle is equipped as a river
cruiser, with no big button fender on the bows. Just lots of shiny
paint, which I didn't wish to damage. Reversing, did not appear to
swing the bow into the stream. Somehow with various forward and reverse
manoeuvres I craft eventually came alongside. Not without some paint
being lost along the way. Ignominy!
The sky still looked grey. If anything the clouds were lower still.
The 14:20 trip left with just one person aboard. He still got the full
commentary, though I didn't put in the extra bit that I had thought
about adding when I told the young girl on the first trip about the rare
black swans which have been resident in Ely for a number of years. No
one seems to know where they came from, but I understand that the
variety originates in Australia. I had expected to see them above the
High Bridge but they has spotted them out side the Cutter Inn, which the
commentary reminds you is named, not after a type of sailing boat as the
inn sign suggests, but the navvies who cut the new course of the Great
Ouse between Adelaide and Littleport in the early 1800s.
Another imperfect landing! News must have got about, that I gave bumpy
rides. There was no one waiting for the 15:00 trip. On the dot of
three, the rain started to fall. Once again it was only a few spots,
over in a couple of minutes, but there were no longer families
promenading along he waterfront. Incongruously, it seemed to contain
just people rushing between Mr King's ice cream van and the warm and dry
of the model railway exhibition.
I did a quick calculation. Unless I was very careful I would cost
Stephen more by staying trying to drum up business than he would take
in fares. Enough was enough. I called it a day. I counted the money.
Several times over! I hadn't checked the float, but now I seemed to be
one pound over. Back on board came the sign boards, everything was
locked up and battened down. Mooring lines were taken back on board and
tied with a round turn and two half hitches, as requested. Padlock and
chain were applied as a further deterrent to those thinking of casting
Liberty Belle adrift.
I left the boat at the end of my day, stopping only to have a word with
the ice cream vendor, who was surprised that he was, indeed, still doing
a good trade on such a miserable day. I thought of the answers I'd
given to questions I hadn't been given the answers to on my training
day. "Can I book the boat for a family party next month?" Yes, but not
in public trip times. And another, "Will you be here, tomorrow?" Yes,
but it will be the boss, not me! And the long conversations with the
very pleasant guy in the boat moored downstream of the Liberty Belle
mooring It seemed he had known that Stephen would be away today. So
did the ice cream man. Perhaps, Sid had been told and remembered me?
Still more fascinating was the chat with the history teacher, who wanted
to know if Liberty Belle could be used for making a film about the
Cambridge Crew of the boat race from some date I didn't quite catch.
Initially, I thought she had said the original boat race, but later
realised that couldn't be the one, as she referred to six of them still
being alive. They'd found some archive footage of them. They were
making a film which they hoped to show to Channel Four to get the go
ahead for a full blown project. 'Twas all fascinating stuff, but my
brain wasn't working entirely well at that stage in the afternoon. In
spite of my early employment being with the Westminster Bank Ltd, I can
confirm that mental arithmetic takes
regular practice and it's not like riding a bike - something you never
forget how to do!
So! Will I do it again? I guess that depends on how desperate Stephen
is and how much paint he is prepared to lose. I do need a bit more
practice, preferably without adjacent breasted up gin palaces during my
early training, before I'll be happy that I'm really familiar with the
boat. New jobs are always tiring, and I'm sure I'd get over that. Even
the worry about finding time to visit the loo, didn't turn out to be a
problem.
Won't it be boring, just doing seven and a half minutes downstream and
return following by seven and a half minutes upstream all day, some had
asked. But there are fascinating changes from minute to minute, always
different activity around you on the water and, at the times, you're
working, always plenty of activity on the banks too.
Given the chance - Yes I'll do it again!
--
Greg
http://www.waterwaysguides.co.uk
(for updates to Nicholson, Imray and (coming soon) Pearson Guides)
Molly
Chapman (Greg Chapman <gr...@waterwaysguides.co.uk>) wrote
>I had arrived at 11:00, armed with keys supplied by Stephen King, owner
>of Liberty Belle. This was to be my first day as a working boatman!
Brilliant stuff, Greg - thank you so much!
You have every right to feel proud of yourself for your achievement, and
I hope you get another opportunity very soon. Maybe we should arrange a
miniGIG to go out on the Liberty Belle!
--
Molly
This sig temporarily vacant due to lack of inspiration.
Anthony Matheson
says...
> Imagine the scene!
<SNIP>
> Well! It wasn't like that!
>
Enjoyed this, Greg. How did you get up the courage to volunteer? Even a
duck watching me a bit too closely made me pretty tense about 'coming in
to land'. Passengers would be a nightmare. I think I'd have to try to
anticipate all the ways I could possibly cock it up, and how I could
pretend each one was deliberate.
--
Anthony Matheson
http://www.amath.co.uk
To reply by email, please remove footwear
Greg Chapman
"Molly" <nos...@mockfords.clara.co.uk> wrote in message
news:kZmvTWC+i$68E...@clara.net...
> Brilliant stuff, Greg - thank you so much!
Thank you!
> You have every right to feel proud of yourself for your achievement,
and
> I hope you get another opportunity very soon.
Stephen has asked that I do it on a few days over the summer to give him
a break. Last year he worked 49 days without break. I can well imagine
that it gets very wearing. I'd like to help but don;t expect to be able
to give regular cover.
> Maybe we should arrange a miniGIG to go out on the Liberty Belle!
Whether I am at the helm or otherwise I am sure that Stephen would
welcome the trade.
There has been a little talk, on urwf, of a micro-gig at Ely over the
summer, but no one has suggested a date yet.
I doubt that my other half, who only tolerates my boating, wouldn't take
kindly to me suggesting an August Bank Holiday weekend date, the only
summer weekend that we have uncommitted at the moment. That weekend
should be a good time for business for Liberty Belle anyway, so extra
trade then wouldn't be needed.
Greg
Greg Chapman
"Anthony Matheson" <scr...@freeSHOESuk.com> wrote in message
news:MPG.17561c59e...@news-text.blueyonder.co.uk...
> In article <acgh3c$kcj$1...@news6.svr.pol.co.uk>,
gr...@waterwaysguides.co.uk
> says...
> > Imagine the scene!
> <SNIP>
> > Well! It wasn't like that!
> >
> <SNIP>
> Enjoyed this, Greg.
Many thanks. After all the praise heaped on your exceptional Trip
Report efforts, I was almost reluctant to post my offering.
> How did you get up the courage to volunteer?
It wasn't so much volunteer as I was asked.
I've known Stephen for about three years now. He has invited me aboard
Liberty Belle a couple of times, more for my "local knowledge" than my
boating skills. One occasion was when he was being filmed by Anglia
Television for part of a volunteering program, which for one episode had
a waterways theme. The producer had been aware of the campaigning Soham
Lode cruise in October 1998. I had cadged lifts on various boats to
take part in that.
> Even a
> duck watching me a bit too closely made me pretty tense about 'coming
in
> to land'. Passengers would be a nightmare. I think I'd have to try to
> anticipate all the ways I could possibly cock it up, and how I could
> pretend each one was deliberate.
Ah! I can see that you think like a professional boatman already!
Greg
Captain Beeky
fonecalls this am.
You went on
> I doubt that my other half, who only tolerates my boating . . . .
. . . . and none of your other activities !
--
Captain Beeky
http://www.beekychuggers.co.uk
Su/Cutworks
> I think I'd have to try to
> anticipate all the ways I could possibly cock it up, and how I could
> pretend each one was deliberate.
When I was first traveling single-handed, I spent a fair amount of time in
remote stretches of canal practicing such things as landing the boat. I
didn't notice the man on the towpath behind me who was apparently bemused by
the way I'd pull alongside the towpath, jump off with the rope, and then get
back on board to move off again, ten times in a row. When I did stop for
the last time he walked past and commented 'Didn't you like the first nine
spots?'
It's a fact in boating that perfect landings, windings and lock entries are
unwittnessed, but crashes, falls and horrible mistakes happen on holiday
weekends.
-Su
Greg Chapman
"Captain Beeky" <chug...@onetel.net.uk> wrote in message
news:acilft$ouddd$1...@ID-127975.news.dfncis.de...
> Greg . . enjoyed the 7 page report, printed and sneaked a peek in
> between fonecalls this am.
>
> You went on
>
> > I doubt that my other half, who only tolerates my boating . . . .
>
> . . . . and none of your other activities !
My other activities, she always reckons she can do better. You know the
kind of thing a "semi"-retired house husband has to do, cooking,
cleaning, ironing, dog walking, etc etc.
Jealously really! She reckon she'll "retire" soon too! Then it really
be hell! :-)
Forgot to get round to posting a Mepal micro-gig report! John Chapman,
Neil Arlidge, Stephen King, Tony Clarke and I attended. Did little more
than talk, railway preservation and boats, with a bit of railway
modelling and Ely and Fen history thrown in!
Robin Nicholson
>My other activities, she always reckons she can do better. You know the
>kind of thing a "semi"-retired house husband has to do, cooking,
>cleaning, ironing, dog walking, etc etc.
and moving the house three inches to the left.
>Jealously really! She reckon she'll "retire" soon too! Then it really
>be hell! :-)
Mine has been muttering about retiring. It has made me ultra
depressed. Today I got back and was promptly asked to dismantle the
hoover and find out what was making a strange noise. Found nothing
wrong, naturally.
---
Robin