The gannets started it

10/05/2008 / Bill

The gannets started it.

We were about three miles off Polperro, heading towards an invisible Rame Head. Low cloud was hiding the cliff-tops, cutting the view with an unnatural straight line. The colours of the day were shades of grey. There was no one but us and a lone fishing boat, some way ahead off Looe Island.

In theory, 090 degrees would place us just south of Rame, but not in this wind, in this tide, in this visibility, at this speed – 020 (if she would head that) to take us well south until we could see it.

We had been watching the gannets since we left Fowey, their brilliant white backs shining, contrasting with the ink black tips of their long narrow wings – not fishing but flying in two and threes, vigilantly, almost lazily.

All at once, everything changed. Action crackled in the air.

Over there, they were diving.

“Dolphin!” Tony, at the helm, pointing towards the shore.

“There’s another . . . . and another . . . . they’re everywhere!”

Sure enough, everywhere you looked, a dark, finned, back would rise easily out the water and slip back, leaving an emptier surface . . . to be replaced by others near and far.

I grabbed the camera, forgot to put it on video record and went forward.

From the pulpit, I watched three dolphins, two of them twisting around each other, shoot under the bow, then another – not breaking the surface – just looking. Out of the corner of my eye, not six feet away, a shiny back had turned and was swimming alongside us. Two more crossed beneath me.

$They won\'t keep still!$

The sea was full of movement. The excitement was contagious, you could put out a hand and feel it. You could smell it.

The dolphins were doing what comes naturally, of course – herding a shoal of (probably) mackerel. Spinning it around, pushing it, playing with it. Lunch in grand style.

In the few minutes it took us to appreciate the moment, they were gone, moving west behind us – all that activity rapidly slipping astern. We quietened down. Time to put the kettle on and talk about it.

Forget our strictly human feelings, we just happened to be there, a bit part in a world that is bigger than us, older than us – one that constantly needs tending.

But . . . to stand at the bow of your own boat in a sea full of dolphins!! Can it get much better than that?

A Little Learning

20/09/2007 / Bill / 1 Comment

I woke up in the middle of the night in a hot sweat, convinced that we’d fouled the forward warp and Blue Mistress had swung with the tide, hard against the boat in front of us. Somehow every boat in the area had sprouted a deckload of people – all laughing at us. The fact that I was lying in my own bed, thirty miles from the boat made it no less real.

The problem for the following day was that there would be a particularly high spring tide and my single crewman – (my son), was going to arrive at about half ebb when the weight of tide against the stern would be at its strongest. We could wait for it to ease, but then we would lose precious sailing time. (This is the lot of the weekend sailor).

Blue Mistress is moored fore and aft, with doubled warps, on a line of trots. Mooring this way is secure and safe, but getting on and off it requires some concentration. Like the boats around us, we are moored facing downstream – into the flood tide, and the technique for leaving the mooring depends on whether the tide is ebbing or flowing.

Normally, we have little problem, but this time the speed of the tide was worrying me – and I like to get it right. Get it wrong, and we contact the boat in front and, maybe, others. At best, this would be untidy; at worst, expensive.

The plan was to let go both the aft warps before we start, replacing them with a longer, light, slippable warp; and to let go one of the forward warps, while holding the bow close to the forward buoy with the other, able to let it go at a moment’s notice.

By gently slipping the light stern warp, and easing the tiller to starboard, the stern should turn out into the main stream. Once well clear of our neighbour, a nudge astern on the throttle should pull us into the main fairway. As we move away, the bow warp is dropped and the stern warp slipped. When clear, we go ahead.

Sounds easy enough. However, too much stern throttle combined with too much rudder will bring the boat side onto the stream, causing it to slew round rapidly to face upstream. This is manageable when the stream is fairly slack, (I’ve done it before), but with a strong tidal stream, there would be a danger of being carried too close to the other boats in the few seconds between going astern and ahead. Hence my bad dream.

In the event, we were helped by a light but steady wind pushing us in the right direction. I put the engine slow astern to hold her in the current, we rearranged the warps, and I let the stern warp slowly bring the stern out. At this point, I was still worrying about slewing round because the current was obviously strong, leaving a marked ‘wash’ around the nearby buoys.

Then I noticed that something else was happening.

There was none of the expected tight pull on the stern warp. We were held in the current by the engine and the lightest of touches on the tiller was moving her gently sideways.

Pete let go of the forward warp and I slipped the stern warp, and, free now, still slipping slowly sideways – 20, 30, 40 seconds – still level with the mooring, Blue Mistress was steady and easily controllable.

Two men, on 25 foot or so of deck, with the ebb tide flowing past, could have been on dry land for the stability and strength they felt beneath their feet. Here was a fine hull shape, working as it was designed to do in wind and water, making the helmsman’s life easy.

Once clear of the other boats, the engine now firmly ahead, we shot down the line of boats towards the sea. And the moment had gone.

The young man said, “See, I told you you worry too much. It was easy.”

The older man (in that way older men have) said, “Yes, but you’ve got to do it right. Be prepared for things to go wrong and mostly they won’t but sometimes they will, but you’ve got it sorted.”

Inside he was thinking, “Yesss – this is why I like this boat. She may not be as light and fast as many of the newer racing-cruisers, but she rewards you with moments of sheer, seamanlike pleasure – and these are the moments I go to sea for.”

On Becoming a Skipper

18/08/200719/08/2007 / Bill

“Make a list. Then work through it.”

Good advice generally, but a list implies some sort of linear order – one item written after another. However you look at it, your brain makes the items at one end of the list more important than the other. And what happens to the items in the middle? Working through a list takes time, and, the human condition being what it is, the enthusiasm that greeted the construction of the list and dealing with the first entries will wane as time goes on.

OK, a list works if you can afford to forget a portion of its contents, but what happens if your occupation involves items that are all of equal importance – each relying on the other for success?

Take, for example, the knowledge, skills and attitudes required to be the skipper of a small boat, particularly if you want to sail single-handed. You need to get it all right, or at least a good enough proportion of it – in your own style. It might be helpful to know what Robin Knox-Johnson or Ellen MacArthur did in similar circumstances but they’re them and you’re you, and the circumstances won’t be exactly the same, and they’re not there to help you anyway.

So how do you start? Well, “Make a list. Then . . . . .” No, there’s another way, using a mindmap.

Below is a group of skills and attitudes for skippers that I first saw listed in a book – (and my apologies for not noting which one), early last year. It struck me as interesting, well thoughtout and a good starting point from which to build my own skills, so I copied it down. Then I forgot all about it. I found it again this week.

This is an exercise in getting it all together – and keeping it together. It’s an exercise in converting someone else’s thinking into my thinking. If it appears to you to be an exercise in the blindingly obvious, bear with me, some of it is – but these are the early stages of a much longer enterprise.

Here’s how I’m going about it.

Step One: Create a new mindmap. Call it, in this case, ‘On Becoming a Skipper’. Add two branches – ‘Practical Skills’, ‘Theoretical Skills’. Add sub-branches for each set of skills, taken from the original list. Now we’ve developed an image of a complex subject which appears all on one screen. However, at this stage, the content is still someone else’s work.

Step Two: Begin to sort the branches by adding icons based on your own style and needs. Pencil = work on this, cross = not ok, tick = ok and so on.

Step Three:Think about it for a while. A couple of days after producing this, I added ‘rigger’ and ‘purser’, the latter being very relevant at the moment. The point here is that it is not a fixed picture, we can alter it at will.

Step Four: Rearrange the skills and attitudes into some sort of order that suits your current needs and style. What are you going to do with what you are learning here? (Or, in this case, what am I going to do?)

Step Five: Keep this image at the front (or back) of your mind. Every now and then something else will occur to you and you can add to it. This is a work-in-progress to maintain a balanced approach to growing as a skipper in an age when traditional apprenticeships are not always available or appropriate. The sea is still the sea, sailing is still sailing, and we all need to learn the same stuff regardless of the way we do it.

As for me, I shall revisit this file regularly. I can see where I need to be working now and I shall add another level of branches, going deeper into each topic, but always the overview will be there.

Maybe we shall look at it again later in the year and see what’s happening.

The Fate of the “Ceres”

01/08/2007 / Bill / 1 Comment

Taken from an article in the Bideford Weekly Gazette dated December 1st.1936.

FATE OF THE “CERES”

The 125 years old “Ceres”, veteran of the merchant service, her course now run, lies at the bottom of Bideford Bay, somewhere off Baggy Point.

The “Ceres” sprang a leak on Tuesday night while on a voyage from South Wales to Bude, and foundered after her crew had put off in her boat and had been picked up by the Appledore lifeboat.The Captain is Mr Oswald Jeffery, a married man, whose home is in Richmond Road, Appledore, and the mate Mr Walter Ford, a married man of Irsha Street,, Appledore.They reached Appledore in the lifeboat at about 11 o’clock, and on arrival the Rev Muller offered a short prayer of thanksgiving for their safety.

Captain Jeffery said,” We left Swansea on Tuesday bound for Bude with a cargo of slag.. Because of the weather we intended to go in over the Bar for the night as it was to rough to venture on to Bude. At 8 o’clock I went below to rest for an hour, leaving the mate in charge. An hour later he told me there was water in the engine room. We manned the pumps. We tried to get the ship over the Bar, but the water made her roll badly, and I gave the order for the ship’s rowing boat to be launched. I fired two rockets, and we abandoned the vessel. We lay in the shelter of the “Ceres” which was sinking, and were taken onboard the lifeboat.

Dr. Valentine stood by in case medical assistance was needed, but although wet through, neither the captain nor his mate appeared any the worse for this ordeal.

The “Ceres” was owed by a Bude firm of coal merchants, and was built in Salcombe.

Ketch Ceres 1811 – 1936.

Built in Salcombe, Devon in 1811.She carried stores as a revitaling ship at the blockade of Brest during the Napoleonic wars. Was the oldest sea-going vessel afloat until she sank in Croyde Bay one November evening in 1936. My late father Walter Ford always maintained that she sank because the vessel had recently had a new timber set in, and this had swollen and had displaced the much older timbers which surrounded it.

The night she sank was flat calm and the sky clear.

This is one of a number of posts on the Ketch “Ceres”. They are presented in a random order as and when I have found, or been given, new material. If you are interested in maritime history and would like to read more, please use the Search facility on the top right-hand side if this page (‘Ceres’). If the Search box does not appear on your current screen, then click on ‘Bill’s Boat Blog’ – (or the title of this entry, then ‘Bill’s Boat Blog’), to be taken to the correct page.

The picture on page 90

20/07/2007 / Bill / 2 Comments

Re picture on page 90.

The ketch Ceres is said to be the oldest sea-going craft in existence. She was built at Salcombe, Devon, in 1811, and began by trading to Northern Spain, more than once having narrow escapes from French and American privateers. In the years 1818 and 1814 she was employed by Government carrying British military stores in connection with Wellington’s Peninsular War operations, subsequently reverting to her owners and resuming ordinary trading. She first came back to Bude in 1826, and has been in the ownership of her present owners since 1852. She was altered in rig in 1865, and subsequently was cut in two and lengthened by 13 feet, being registered 44 tons and carrying 85 tons. In 1912 she was successfully transformed to a motor ship by the successful installation of a 30 h.p. semi-Diesel engine, which enabled her to keep close to the shore and so avoid the fate of several other coasting vessels sunk by submarines off the North Cornish coast during the Great War. Ceres is still in active commission, having passed her four-year Board of Trade survey in 1930.

(Photo by J. H. Petherick, Belle View, Bude. Sent by Mr. J. W. W. Banbury, Lloyd’s Agent, Bude, Cornwall.)

More History of the Ceres

20/07/200720/07/2007 / Bill / 3 Comments

When you explore the history of a boat, any boat, you quickly discover you are not the only one interested in her. Ceres was particularly well-known and appreciated by a wide variety of people. The piece below, from the P.S.N.C. Magazine, was written by someone with a far greater call on her than I – the great-grandson of the original owner.

The History of the Ceres.

The Ceres was built at Salcombe, Devon, in 1811 for my greatgrandfather, William Lewis, of Bude, Cornwall, for the Spanish-London fruit trade. He went master of her, and during the Peninsular War she was employed carrying stores to the British troops in France, under the Duke of Wellington. On the death of my great-grandfather in 1829 my grandfather, ”his only son,” not 18 years of age, went master of the Ceres, and kept her in the coasting trade until 1855, when he sold her to Captain P. M. Petherick, of Bude, who went master of her. In 1866 he was relieved by his eldest son, Captain W. W. Petherick. In 1884 he was relieved by his brother, Captain Walter Petherick, who retired from the sea in 1930 after being master of the Ceres for 46 years. I have known the Petherick family since my childhood. Finer sailors never walked a ship’s deck.

My grandfather had many souvenirs from the Ceres, including the two old flint lock pistols which his father and the mate carried to shoot Napoleon and his bodyguard if they attempted to board the Ceres; the old horn lantern that was lighted by a tallow candle, made by the crew ; the lantern, the only light, was carried at the bowsprit end when possible, to light the Ceres to glory; the old bull’s horn which was used as a foghorn; also a piece of flint and steel used to strike a light with.

Ceres – details from the shipping register

18/06/200722/06/2007 / Bill / 10 Comments

The details below are taken from the official records of “Ceres”, found in the shipping registries of Dartmouth and Padstow. However exciting the stories of fast voyages, near disasters and real tragedy (see later), what follows are the details that count, (even though not all the dates tie exactly with those I have found from other sources). These are the bare bones that underly the ownership of a coasting ketch.

Throughout her life, “Ceres” was used for business – to earn her keep and, hopefully, make a profit for her owners. Given the length of her service, this she apparently did in carrying cargo around the coasts of Britain. However, from the records we find that not only were her cargoes a source of income but shares in the ship changed hands and she was mortgaged several times as a way of raising money.

I found these records fascinating, and was particularly delighted to find the wonderfully named Barnabas Stenlake Shazel.

CERES OF BUDE.

Built Salcombe, 1811.

Sloop of one deck and one mast.

Length 49 feet, breadth 17 feet, depth in hold 7 feet 3 inches.

Rigged with a running bowsprit, square sterned, carvel built. No galleries. No figurehead.

Tonnage 57 and 60/94ths

Dartmouth registry.

Port no. 13 of 1812.

Employed in the coastal trade. Master J.Keepell, Crew of 4.

Registered de novo 4th October 1824. Port No.202.
” 5th May 1828. Port No.16.
“ 13th May 1830. Port No.17.

Registry finally cancelled on 11th April 1837 and property transferred to

Padstow registry.

Registered No 9 Padstow. 11th April 1837. James Greenway, Master.

Owned – Richard Beeuleu of Launceston 32 shares. Henry King of Stratton 16 shares and Ann King 16 shares. (Richard Beeuleu sold his shares to a Mr Lewis of Bude, Henry King transferred his shares to Ann who sold all to Lewis, who was thus sole owner.)

Reregistered No 4 Padstow. 12th July 1841.

On 11th July, 1855, William Lewis sold 32 shares to Henry Petherick, Merchant, 16 shares to Samuel Knight, Miller, and 16 to John Wakely , Yeoman. The last two sold their shares to H. Petherick in 1856 and 1860.

It was mortgaged in 1862 for £300 to Edward Barker of Launceston and sold by H. Petherick in 1863 to John Henry Hooker of Bude who in turn sold to William Walter Petherick in October 1868, the mortgage also being discharged in that year.

Wm.W. Petherick mortgaged the vessel for £150 in 1869 to Edward Hockin and John Henry Hooker, then once again it was reregistered as No 26 Padstow , 1st Dec 1869 with Wm Petherick owning 38 shares /Barnabas Stenlake Shazel owning 26 shares.

Wm Petherick purchased B.S.Shazel’s shares in 1374 and the mortgage was discharged in 1889.

She was registered anew in 1913 (material alterations… new engine fitted)
Sold to Donald Murch Petherick in 1921 and to Alfred Petherick in 1924.

The register was closed 2 Dec. 1936 on the advice from the managing owners that she was a total loss on 24th November 1936.

This is one of a number of posts on the Ketch “Ceres”. They have been presented in a random order as and when I have found, or been given, new material. They represent steps in a personal quest to find out more about one branch of my family.

If you are interested in maritime history or would like to read more, please use the Search facility at the top right hand side of this page (‘Ceres’). If this is not available on your current screen, then click on ‘Bill’s Boat Blog’ – (or the title of this entry, then ‘Bill’s Boat Blog’), to be taken to the correct page.

Crossing the Bar

15/05/200722/06/2007 / Bill / 1 Comment

My aunt has given me a sheaf of articles, and newspaper clippings about the ketch ‘Ceres’, which, as I have mentioned before, was in our family for 73 of her 125 years active service.

Many of these articles were copied over the years from issues of Sea Breezes, which started life in 1919 as the house magazine of the Pacific Steam Navigation Company. The subtitle changed later to “The Ship-Lovers’ Magazine’. It ceased publication in October 1939 only to restart in 1946.

I had thought I would stop posting blogs on ‘Ceres’ but I am finding that publishing them as individual pieces from different sources gives a colourful history and allows the reader a personal insight that is sometimes lost in a formally-presented, official ‘history’. This is partly because the ‘facts’ sometimes differ from article to article.

Talking of ‘colourful’, I hope you enjoy the following. I curled up with embarrassment when I first read it, then laughed out loud for the sheer joy of it.

Crossing the Bar

By C.L.Lilbourn, Newport, Mon.

Editor’s Note:- The June issue gave (on page 90) a wonderful picture of the ketch Ceres crossing the Bar at Bude, Cornwall; more of her history was promised and this is contained in the following article:-

The ketch Ceres, of Bude, Cornwall, has been crossing Bude Bar for over 200 years in practically all weathers. Owing to sunken rocks the channel is very narrow, and the Ceres has been kept close enough to the Chapel Rock, seen in the photo, to knock the shell fish off without damaging the rock or the Ceres. Some steering, I guess, but Captain Walter Petherick is at the helm and nothing is impossible to this 24-carat sailor, who has been master of the Ceres for 46 years. He is now nearly 80 years of age, as upright as a lifeguardsman, with a good head of hair as strong as rope yarns. He is one of the best known and most respected coasting captains living today. He has made thousands of passages up and down the Bristol Channel, and if all the lights in the lighthouses and lightships were extinguished, and their fog signals silenced, he could probably make a passage in the Ceres from Newport to Bude in a dense fog, by the use of the lead and the assistance of the different herds of cattle along the coast bellowing.

Call everything “he” except the tomcat.

For instance, if he heard a cow bellowing in a soprano voice he could say to his mate, “Ben, us be off Minehead; that is Farmer G’s cow a-bellowing: can’t you hear he (Cornish sailors call everything ‘he’ except the Tomcat, and they call ‘he’ ‘she’)? Drop the lead over the side and see what water us have got.” Ben would retort so many fathoms and hard sand. The captain would say, “Yes, I knew us was off Minehead.” Some hours later another cow would bellow in a contralto voice. The Captain would know it was Farmer T’s at the Foreland. Some hours later they would hear a bull roaring in a bass baritone voice, the Captain would know they were off Bull Point. The last cow would be heard at Hartland Point, where they would get their departure. When they arrived in Bude Bay they would have to wait for the fog to clear before they could cross the Bar.

I wonder what my great grandfather – (he of the ‘hair as strong as rope yarns’), thought of this!

This is the Boys Own writing of the time, of course, and maybe a little embellishment for the reader was considered worthy.

I must admit, the more I find out about him, the more fond I grow of Captain Walter Petherick; and I can’t help feeling he had earned the right to a short piece about him without the need for any superlatives.

I will post the remainder of the articles and clippings over the next few months.

Winches

07/05/2007 / Bill

He is a little embarrassed to tell this – not sure why, except he thinks he should know better.

Recently the brake on the starboard sheet winch stopped working. The drum turned freely both ways – no comforting click. Now that both winches have been removed from Blue Mistress for her refit, this is the obvious time to repair and service them.

For anyone who hasn’t seen inside, a winch is one of those objects that is fine in itself but, to be honest, is a complete mystery. How does it work? What makes it click? What stops it rotating anti-clockwise? And if the clicking stops does it mean some sort of spring or clip or finely engineered dubris has fractured? Will this be highly expensive? Does it need a specialist to sort it out?

At the very least, it means getting out the ‘how to’ books and reading them very carefully.

‘How to’ books are hot on warnings and the sections on winches particularly so. Instructions like ‘gently’, ‘slowly’, ‘carefully’, ‘remember to record the order the parts come off’, ‘ use a container to put all the bits in’, ‘a coordinated softly-softly approach’, ‘do not lose these springs and makes sure they don’t jump out as they are freed’, ‘always take special care that you don’t lose any of the tiny springs etc’, ‘spread a sheet under the vice to catch them’ and so on.

This is all very sound advice, and now that he knows, he understands why. However, by the time he had finished reading, he was jolly sure it would be an impossible task, especially as the winch in the pictures looked nothing like the winches in front of him.

And he’s left-handed, which means that all the pictures had been taken the wrong way round for him. Eighty per cent of the time, this doesn’t matter – after all, he’s had a lifetime to get used to looking at ‘right-handed instructions’, but when a job needs ‘care’, gentleness’, ‘slowness’ , i.e. has all the hall-marks of a precision job, he needs to be spoon-fed (or he thinks he does).

The reality usually turns out quite differently, of course.

However, it took three days of looking at the winches, absorbing the instructions, downloading the parts manual from the internet, before he plucked up the courage to start.

When he did so, the bomb-squad would have been proud of him. He made absolutely sure no one was anywhere near him. (The area had been cleared!)

Carefully, gently and slowly, he prised off the circlip on the top of the first winch and, placing his thumbs on the drive shaft and his fingers around the drum, he gingerly lifted the drum millimetre by millimetre until it was clear of the base. At any moment he expected a small explosion and a shower of little springs to fly across the room.

And this is what he found?

He could have removed this drum in an open cockpit in an Atlantic storm and not lost a single part!

Now he could see why the clicking has stopped – all four pawls (the comma-shaped objects at either end of the drum) were jammed by grease and salt – as were the rollers. Every other part was dry and covered in salt.

It took two hours of soaking in paraffin, carefully separating parts, brushing, scrubbing, polishing, light greasing and oiling to get it back together again. There was no corrosion or fracture or any engineering defect whatever – four pawl springs were replaced. It works perfectly again – job done.

It took half an hour to strip the first winch and five minutes the second.

Now he knows it’s straightforward he will service them again next year.

He’ll have to be careful, of course, next time the parts really will be freer – and just maybe will explode everywhere.

After thought

22/04/2007 / Bill / 1 Comment

I’ve been thinking about the “Ceres” and the last entry in my grandfather’s notes on her.

“Foundered midnight Nov 24 1936. Bideford Bay, Crew saved by lifeboat.” This after 125 years of active service.

It’s not the crew I’ve been thinking of. I met them when I was young – they survived.

It’s what happened to the ship that fascinates me. How did she settle?

Did she go down bow first, stern first?

Did she settle upright? (She was carrying approximately 80 tons of slag as cargo).

What happened to the mast, the rigging and the sails?

I guess the captain’s cabin filled pretty quickly. I saw a picture of it once. My grandfather’s office was lined with wood paneling that matched that cabin.

More relevantly, how does she look now – on the floor of Bideford Bay – sixty years or so later?

I thought of her the day I delivered Blue Mistress for her haul out.

While waiting for the hoist, I walked from Turnchapel back to Oreston to fetch the car.

The walk skirts Hooe Lake which is a tidal inlet on the south bank of the River Plym.

At the east end of the Lake, I took these pictures.

This is a sight you can see on any of the major rivers, estuaries and inlets of the Westcountry, (the Fal, the Fowey, the Dart, the Tamar, the Plym, the Exe and on). Indeed throughout the UK and Europe too, and, I guess, around the globe – in the mud, beneath tree-lined banks, wooden vessels of a certain age gently decay, slowly fading into their surroundings. Biodegradable, most of the materials they were made of allow that to happen. A slow end to a hard, romantic life.

Well, that was then. What about now.

Wrecks still happen.

This one (MSC “Napoli” ) within the last few months – a greater spectacle, with more visual impact, and a great deal more environmental consequences than “Ceres” – or the three wrecks above. This is not a wooden vessel – no biodegration here.

OK, the wreck was a result of heavy weather and a judicious (?) decision on where best to beach her – (as it happens, off a World Heritage coastline).

You might say, “These things happen. However skilled and careful mankind is, major disasters will occur. It’s how we deal with them that marks us out.”

That may be so, but some “disasters” can be anticipated and maybe we should be ready for them. Try this for example:

In years to come, we will have to deal with another environmental concern. This one will creep up on us: Where are all those yachts and boats that fill our marinas, harbours and rivers going to go after we’ve finished with them? Will they slowly fade into their surroundings? I hope we will enjoy them for many more years. And when we’ve finished, pass them on to new owners for their turn. But will they last 125 years? The boats themselves might not, but the materials they’re made of will. For certain, tree-lined banks of tidal inlets will not be an option.

I am not wishing to make a huge issue about this, nor am I despondent about man’s ability to cope. But I am interested, (and I hope you are too), because it is one small aspect of a much greater concern that is beginning to concentrate our minds and will continue to do so over the next decades – What are we going to do with all these indestructible materials?

I won’t be here to find out the answers, probably neither will my children, but my yet-to-be-born grandchildren will . . . and I care about them and their generation.

Beyond Steeple Point

"Not all who wander are lost"

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