One
day in autumn, Puff the Pixie went nut picking in the Home Woods and when his
basket was full the decided to take a short cut back to the Fairy Dell. Before
he had gone very far, the little Pixie realised that it was a foolish thing to
do because he had never been in this part of the woods before. “No” he said to
himself “I had better go back and take the path that leads straight back home,
even if it is longer”, so he turned back.
After
he had been walking for quite a long time, Puff thought, “that’s funny, I
should be back on the old path by now, I must have taken the wrong turning
somewhere. I seem to be lost. Well I am sure to meet someone soon and then I
ask the way”. Sure enough, a little further he met a hedgehog who was rather
grumpy and when Puff asked the way, all that the hedgehog said was, “You should
stay in your own part of the woods”, and shuffled away muttering to himself
“Silly Pixie”.
“What
a rude hedgehog” said Puff indignantly, “but there comes a rabbit, maybe she
will be kinder”. The rabbit listened to Puff’s problem then said, “Now you
follow this path until you come to the fallen tree then ask again”. Puff
thanked her and set off again. When he reached the fallen tree however, there
was no one about to ask so he sat on the tree trunk to wait until someone came
along.
While
he was sitting there he saw a little bag lying in the path a little distance
from the tree and the inquisitive Pixie said to himself, “Now I wonder what is
in that bag. Maybe the one who dropped it will come back soon to look for it
then I can ask the way again”. Puff waited and waited and he started to feel
restless. “Well, I am not going to wait all day” he said, “I shall just follow
this path and see what happens”.
As
he passed the spot where the little bag was laying, he decided to open it and
see what was inside. The bag was quite small, not heavy and altogether
mysterious. “What can it be?” wondered Puff and sat down to untie the string
which held the bag closed. ”Powder” he exclaimed, “Just a lot of yellow
powder,” and he sniffed it. “No smell” he said, “I wonder if one can eat it”,
and he dipped his finger in and tasted it. “No taste either, this is a strange
thing, I wonder who lost it”.
There
was still no one in sight so Puff put the bag in his pocket. He would take it
to the Fairy Queen; she would know what to do about it. Anyone who lost
anything always went to the palace to see if it had been found.
The
Pixie started walking again and after a while he saw another rabbit and when he
was close by Puff said, Excuse me, can you tell me the …?” but before he could
finish his sentence, the rabbit had turned tail and was running away as fast as
he could. “Well” said Puff, “he might at least have listed to me”. A little
further along the path he saw a squirrel and Puff walked up to where the
squirrel sat daintily nibbling a nut.
“Ahem,
excuse me Squirrel, please could you tell me …?” but the squirrel acted very
strangely too. She looked this way, that way, up and down the scurried into the
nearest tree as fast as she could go! “Whatever is the matter with everyone in
this part of the woods?” grumbled the pixie crossly “They are all rude and not
a bit helpful, ah well”; he shrugged his shoulders and carried n down the path.
At
last, after walking and flying a long way he came to a place he recognised.
“Hooray” he shouted, “now I know where I am. Just a little further and I will
be on the path to the Fairy Dell” and see, there was Fern Rabbit with her family
of little ones sitting outside their home. Puff skipped up to them and called
out, “Hello Fern, hello little ones, have you a drink for me? I have walked …?”
What on earth was the matter with everyone today? Fern rabbit screamed, the
baby rabbits squeaked and whisking their white tails they all disappeared into
their hole.
Poor
Puff, he just could not understand it. Oh, he would be so glad to be home. Sad
and tired he continued his walk and then, there at the side of the path,
sitting on a toadstool, was his best friend Topaz. “Hey Topaz” Puff called
happily “I am glad to see you, I …?” Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. Topaz jumped
up, looked all around and in a very frightened voice he asked “Who are you,
where are you?”
“Oh
come on Topaz, it is me, Puff, I really am getting tired of people running away
from me. I have never had such a miserable afternoon”. “P, P, Puff?” asked
Topaz shakily, where are you? Come where I can see you”, and Puff reached out
and tapped his friend on the shoulder saying “Oh Topaz, I am sitting right in
front of you”. Topaz sprang in the air “Who is playing jokes on me?” he asked.
“No one, you old silly it is me, Puff”. “But I can’t see you wailed” Topaz “oh
Puff, you are invisible”. “Ooooh” said Puff “The powder, now I understand”.
Sit
down Topaz and I will tell you all about it, hey! Watch out, don’t sit on me!”
Then Puff told Topaz about his strange afternoon, about the little bag of
powder and how strangely everyone had behaved. “I don’t blame them for behaving
like that, Puff, I was frightened too at first, but come on we will go to the
palace. The Fairy Queen will know what to do”.
The
Queen was sitting in the garden and when she had heard the Pixies story she
said, “I am very glad that you found that bag of powder Puff, one of the Elves
lost it and when he went back to look for it, it was gone. You see, sometimes I
send Fairies into the village to help the humans and I make them invisible to
keep them out of danger. Now come with me”.
They went into the palace and the Queen took her magic wand and waved it over the little Pixie. One – two – three, and there stood Puff. Topaz ran to him and put his arms around his friend’s shoulders “oh Puff, I am so glad to see you”. Puff laughed happily “and I am very glad that you can see me”. They thanked the Fairy Queen and Topaz took his friend home to tea so that the awful afternoon ended happily after all.
Puff the Pixie stories were written by D.L. Hardy-Jesshope and may not be copied or reproduced in any way as they are under copywrite.
If you live in Australia you drink Shiraz
and if you live in other parts of the world (especially near Avignon
in Frances’ Rhone Valley)
you drink Syrah. Same grape, different name. Legend has it that during the 13th
century Crusades a French knight called Gaspard de Sterimberg discovered
wonderful grapes near Shiraz in Persia. And, as
winery people tend to do, he ‘liberated’ some cuttings to plant back home at
his Hermitage (farm) in the Rhone
Valley. The city of Shiraz is the provincial capital of Fars and is around 935
km from Tehran.
Shiraz lies at
an altitude of 1,600 meters that makes for mild winters and moderate summers.
An ideal climate for grapes. The Shiraz
region had some of the world earliest vineyards. Greek amphorae have been
unearthed in Hermitage but this could work both ways. It could have been the
Roman legions who brought their own wines with them as we know wine was grown
in the Rhone Valley during Roman times.
Unfortunately, DNA testing by Dr. Carole Meredith of the University
of California has shown that Shiraz is a native of the Rhone
Valley and not Persia. It was
a good story while it lasted. Syrah accounts for the majority of wines coming
from the northern Rhone
Valley. Two of the worlds
most famous Shiraz appellations are in the
northern Rhone Valley: Hermitage and Côte-Rôti. The
southern half of the valley is the origin of the Rhone blends, traditionally a
blend of Shiraz,
Mourvedre and Grenache grapes.
Australia and France seem to
be obsessed by the grape. About 40% of all red grapes planted in Australia are Shiraz. France has somewhat less than this
but is still way in front of any other country. The first cuttings of Shiraz made it to Australia,
probably with James Busby in 1832 and were incorrectly labelled Scyras which is
a popular northern Rhone
Valley variety. The
cuttings first reached South Africa
from Europe. They were then picked up by the
first fleets when they took on provision in South
Africa and made it to Australia. Recent DNA testing by
Carole Meredith at UCD and Jean-Micel Boursiquot of France
shows Shiraz as
a cross between Mondeuse Blanche and Dureza grapes. Dureza is from the northern
Ardeche region west of the Rhone
Valley. Mondeusa Blanche
comes from the Savoie region and the earliest recorded plantings of Shiraz in France
date back to 500BC. Grosse Syrah and Petite Syrah is another divergence of the Shiraz branch. The only
difference being berry size. Petite Syrah tends to produce dry, dark wines with
lots of tannins, spice and black pepper.
Petite Sirah (that’s an ‘i’ and not a
‘y’) is a completely different grape. In the 1880’s Dr Durif in France was
promoting a mildew resistant variety that he naturally called: ‘Durif’. It was
planted in the United States
and somehow the naming didn’t make it across, it was incorrectly labelled
Syrah. Phylloxera wiped out a lot of the grapes in the late 1890’s and it
wasn’t till the 1970’s that Californian Syrah was correctly identified as
Petite Sirah. DNA testing in 1991 confirmed the Durif label for Petite Sirah.
Australian Shiraz is made in two
different styles. The big, full, rich, tannin laden wines and lighter fruitier
‘drink now’ styles with lots of blackberry and raspberry. You’ll often find a
bit of Grenache in with some of the cheaper and nastier ones just for a bit
more flavour. But this is just a small portion as there are some fantastic
examples around. The Hunter Valley in NSW produces Shiraz that has a trademark
‘sweaty saddle’ characteristic while the Barossa Valley produces a more peppery
and herbaceous style with less fruit nose and more tannin. The cooler climates
produce rich fruit driven wines with lots of pepper.
Shiraz grapes are used
to create the world famous Grange Hermitage. Now called Penfolds Grange as the
name Hermitage was a casualty in the great France versus the rest of the world
naming debate. Max Schubert created Grange in 1952. He pioneered the use of
refrigeration to control the rate of fermentation and hence the flavour
extraction from grapes and the use of new oak barrels to store and mature
wines. Both these practices are now standard for premium red wines but were
revolutionary in their day. And, it took more than 10 years for Grange to be
accepted as a great wine. It was universally criticised when first released and
only Max’s determination to see it succeed kept it alive. Imagine the loss to
the wine world had Max listened to everyone and given up.
Shiraz is a very
vigorous growing grape. It produces large bunches of anywhere up to 130 berries
per bunch. They are long and loose bunches with very good disease resistance. Shiraz does very well in
our cool climate and thrives in warm spring weather to produce a strikingly
peppery wine.
And one final legend on Shiraz grapes, from Cyrus Kadivar, The
Iranian: One ancient Persian legend says that Jamshid, a grapeloving king,
stored ripe grapes in a cellar so he could enjoy grapes all year long. One day
he sent his slaves to fetch him some grapes. When they did not return he
decided to go to the cellar himself only to find that they had been knocked out
by the carbon dioxide gas emanating from some bruised fermenting grapes. One of
the king’s rejected, distraught mistresses decided to drink this poisoned
potion, only to leave the cellar singing and dancing in high spirits. The king
realised that this fruity liquid had the wonderful and mysterious power to make
sad people happy. When Alexander overthrew the powerful Persian
Empire he entered Darius’s palace in January 330 BC. During one of
the conqueror’s orgies soldiers raided the wine cellars. In a drunken moment
Alexander ordered the destruction of Persepolis.
Not long after my return from England I started work as a toolmaker at a small factory in Amsterdam. Although it was interesting work, I just couldn’t see myself working there my whole life. I realised that there must be more in life than being “locked” up in a factory. I had the urge for something with more freedom and adventure. In April 1971 I started looking for something different to do and eventually ended up at Botel Cruises at de Ruyterkade in Amsterdam as a dishwasher. Obviously the job wasn’t that exciting but the environment surely was. I didn’t really care what he job was, I wanted change, see more of the world and meet people.
I can’t remember how many cruises I made on the Amsterdam, which was probably the oldest ship of the fleet of four ships the company owned. Most likely I didn’t do more than two or three cruises from Amsterdam to Rüdesheim and back which was a seven day cruise. This didn’t bother me, I just wanted to get away and see more of the world, although it was only a tiny part of Germany. It didn’t take long before I really fancied one of the stewardesses, her name was Jenny, and she was from Maastricht. One day we agreed that we would go out together in Rüdesheim, to visit the Drosselgasse, a narrow up-hill ally with loads of souvenir shops, bars, restaurants and terraces.
After I had finished my work washing up the dishes, pots and pans and scrubbed the floor, I went to my cabin to get changed. When we were just to leave the ship I was stopped by the chef who said that the kitchen floor wasn’t clean enough and that I had to do it again which I did. We then again planned to go and I was told it wasn’t clean enough and that I had to do it again. I refused this and left the ship together with Jenny.
When we returned at the ship late that evening, the manager, the chef and the captain where waiting for us. I was told that because I had refused to do my job, I was fired and that I would have to leave the ship first thing in the morning. Without money in my pocket I was taken of the ship and saw her leave the jetty turning around for the trip back to Amsterdam. I just stood there wondering what just happened, how could they do that? Leave me behind in Germany without any money. I started to walk and found a place where I stopped to put my thumb up hoping for a lift. A dozen or so rides later I arrived back in Amsterdam.
The following day I went back to the Botel Cruises office to tell them what had happened. I also told the HR manager that I wanted to work for the company but this time not as dishwasher but as mate/sailor. His response was that it would be very unlikely to fulfil such job without any experience. He resumed by saying, if you would have any experience he would seriously consider. I thanked him, walked to the door, turned around and said, see you next year!
From the office I went home and told my parents about my plans. The following weeks I just relaxed and looked around for work. After doing several odd jobs during the summer, one day my dad came home from work, I believe he was more excited than I was, he had seen a sign outside a tugboat company in Amsterdam searching for an apprentice. First thing next day I went for an interview and was hired on the spot! I was assigned to a captain of a tiny tugboat, we were to transport sand from near Pampus in the IJsselmeer. The sand was loaded into a huge barge which we didn’t tug but pushed it all the way through Amsterdam. The sand was used to strengthen a dyke near a place called Lijnden along the Ringvaart.
In May 1972, after a period of 7 months, the job was done and my service was no longer required. I could have stayed working with Tjeerd the skipper and owner of the tiny tugboat, but I had set my mind on the Rhine River cruise ships. Once I had received my certificate as mate/sailor; I went straight to the office of Botel Cruises behind the Central station in Amsterdam. The HR manager Mr. de Graaf was willing to see me even without an appointment. With a huge smile on my face I gave him the certificate which I had just received less than 20 minutes ago. He looked at it for a minute or so and then looked at me over his reading glasses. So, who are you and what do you want, he asked. I told him that he had told me that if I came back with experience as mate/sailor he would consider hiring me on one of his ships, so here I am. His reply was, well well, you really want to do this don’t you!
It went silence in the office, after a minute or so he asked, when can you start? My answer was, immediately… or is that too soon I said. No, no that’s just fine; one of our ships is coming from Zaandam and is on its way to Volendam. If you go and wait at the end of the jetty, you can jump on board when the MS Holland passes by. The ship will return tomorrow and if the captain is satisfied with you and your work, you will leave for a Rhine cruise to Strasbourg the day after. It’s a 14 day cruise and make sure you don’t get fired again!
That year I made several trips from Amsterdam to Strasbourg and back, can’t remember exactly how many but must have been at least 6 two weeks cruises.
During the summer of 1973, while I was in the military, I had two weeks’ vacation, my brother Peter and I decided to go backpacking. Not remembering the details why we decided for Luxembourg or how we got there, we ended up in Echternach situated in the north east of Luxembourg at the German border. We found a suitable campsite and pitched our tent which actually was quite small. Peter being as tall as he was, slept with his feet outside the tent. I still don’t know why we went there, two young lads in a small town crowded by tourists, most of them from the Netherlands. With the exception of some cave exploring, we really didn’t do much more than sleeping in and visiting bars and terraces drinking local beer. Peter really like smoking his joints, something I never did like, just didn’t like the taste or smell of it.
The camping where Pete and I stayed for a couple of days in 1973
In those days it wasn’t so much accepted and I was constantly worried we would get caught by the police, something I couldn’t afford being in military service. Soon enough we got bored and decided to go to Brussels in Belgium, after packing up the tent and our backpacks we headed for the main road and stuck our thumbs up for a ride.
After a while this bloke driving a Mercedes convertible, stopped and agreed to take us to the motorway where it would be easier to catch a lift to Brussels. He and Peter sat in the front both smoking their joints, me sitting on the back seat enjoying the ride with the wind in my hair which I still had plenty of back then.
Mercedes convertible exactly like the one with which we had a lift.
The guy had an 8-track device installed and asked if we would like to hear some music. He inserted a cassette from the rock opera Tommy by the Who and the track I remember best is the Acid Queen, which I had not heard before. I really didn’t need a joint to enjoy the music. It was great, driving along beautiful forest lanes with the cool breeze and the sun shining on our heads with that mysterious sound of the music, it was awesome. Late afternoons we arrived in Brussels, although we had a plan that we wanted to go there, we had no plan where to sleep. After walking for quite a while we found a “sleep-Inn” for backpackers. We checked in, offloaded our backpacks in a room with I believe had ten bunkbeds and went into town. We only stayed there for two nights and then decided to travel back home because we had run out of money.
It wasn’t long until we caught a ride to Rotterdam which was great, but in Rotterdam we just couldn’t get a lift. We stood there for many hours without result so we came up with the idea to travel by train. At Rotterdam Central Station we boarded the train to Amsterdam, this after we had prepared an excuse why we didn’t have a ticket in case we were asked for one. The train left Rotterdam direction The Hague and we felt quite comfortable that all would be well. About halfway the ticket inspector came along asking for tickets, when he asked us, we replied in English saying we didn’t understand what he had said. When he made it clear to us our acting started. Peter said, Dave, you have the tickets don’t you? On which I replied, no Pete, you put them in your wallet. Did I he said? Opened his wallet but no tickets, there was a hole in the walled and he continued by saying, the tickets must have fell out! Apparently the conductor wasn’t impressed and at The Hague Central Station we were taken of the train by the railway police and taken to an office.
Pete and I were still speaking English as if we were tourist from England. After being questioned for about 20 minutes they turned away from us discussing in Dutch what to do with these “trouble makers”. In the meanwhile I had asked for a glass of water, one of the guys said to his colleague not to give me a glass as he might do something crazy with it. While drinking my water from a plastic cup, they continued discussing their options what to do with us. Because Pete and I were traveling with British passports one of them suggested, we could put them on the midnight boat from Hook of Holland to Harwich! At that moment I almost choked in the water I was drinking, the last thing I wanted is being deported while I am in the Dutch military service, I could be court marshalled.
Then they asked why we were going to Amsterdam and we informed them that we were going to visit our parents. We gave them their telephone number which they called to verify if we were family and if they expected us. Once all was clarified, dad had to hop on his moped, drive to Amsterdam Central Station to pay our tickets and fine. Once the police received information that the tickets were paid we were released to travel to Amsterdam.
The police officer passed on a message from dad informing us that we were not welcome that night, he was somewhat angry because he had worked hard all day redecorating the house. In Amsterdam we went to Peters friend for the night and I returned home the following day, on time for me to return to the barracks after the weekend! Again a vacation never to forget.
After I saw an advertisement in the newspaper for crew members on a yacht, I finally found a job with an adventure so I left the Rhine River Cruise Company convinced that I would be hired for this great trip. The owner of the yacht Conrad, an American, was planning a trip from Amsterdam to Spain with his brand new sailing yacht which he had commissioned from a shipyard in North Holland. Normally a sailing boat has a large and deep keel for stability. Because Conrad had planned this canal trip the Zig-Zag was designed with a retractable keel.
Two of the crewmembers and the owner Conrad on the right.
After I received an invitation for an interview I went straight to the Six Haven in Amsterdam North where I met Conrad. He was looking for three crewmembers with sailing experience, something I didn’t have! The interview wasn’t going well; I had to come up with some good reasons why he should hire me. So I started bluffing, I told him that although I do not have any sailing experience, I had knowledge of diesel engines, “I assume”, I continued, “you do have a diesel engine don’t you”? I think that all I knew is how to change an oil filter.
I also mentioned that I had experience with housekeeping and cooking which was true by the way! He probably realised how eager I was to come along on this trip and decided to hire me together with two other guys, Ed and Robert, who both had sailing experience. During the trip we would not get paid any salary, it was like a voluntary job but he provided meals and beverages and naturaly a great adventure. Before it was all agreed, mum insisted to meet Conrad first before she gave her blessing for me to travel with him and two other guys.
After stocking up the boat with the necessary provison and inventory, we left Amsterdam on Monday August 28. The trip was expected to take three months, cruising through Holland, Belgium and France over rivers and canals with about 240 locks before reaching Marseille in the south of France. From there the plan was to erect the masts and sail to Spain crossing Golf du Lyon with final destination Alicante.
From Amsterdam we cruised to Maastricht, a border town with Belgium. From there we continued to follow the river Maas (Meuse) which was a smooth trip. As mentioned earlier, we expected to pass 240 locks and some tunnels during the voyage. For this purpose we had a bicycle with us. In turns one of the three crewmembers would ride to the bike to the next lock and get the lock prepared to enter, once out of the lock ride on to the next one etc.
When we reached the town of Huy in the Belgium Ardennes, we had a technical problem with the engine. A bracket which held the exhaust in place had broken, most likely due to the vibration of the engine. So now it was up to me to get this fixed as that was my “speciality” at least, that is how I managed myself into the job. After removing the bracket I went off to find a metal workshop / blacksmith where they could weld the bracket. It didn’t take long before it was all good and well to go; we continued our trip the following morning direction Givet, the border of Belgium and France. It was a very tricky part of the trip as it was very misty, we didn’t have radar and navigated by listening to sounds we could hear. Quite dangerous when thinking about it but we finally made it without any collisions.
At Givet the French customs came aboard to check out the boat for drugs, Tabaco and alcohol. All was well and we received a stamp in our passports. We left Givet to our next stop which was Stenay. Unfortunately we couldn’t continue our trip due to a broken barrage further upstream. Initially the repairs to the barrage would be a couple of days; eventually we ended waiting in Stenay for 10 days. It was very frustrating just being there for so long. We cleaned the boat so often that we started wondering if we wouldn’t clean of all the paint.
Entering tunnel at Ham sur MeuseComing out of the tunnel
As Conrad and I agreed, I was also responsible for cooking and cleaning. He provided me with household money for the shopping. He was very strict about using his money for visiting bars etc. It was ok to buy beer from the supermarket and bring it onto the boat for our personal consumption which worked out just fine.
After a long boring ten days, we continued the trip to our next destination which was Verdun. We travelled at very slow pace which didn’t allow us any time for sightseeing, only in those places where we stayed for the night. Even then it wasn’t easy because for security reasons, two crewmembers had to remain on the boat at all time.
From Verdun further the Nancy. I can’t remember where it was but we left the Meuse on to Canal de l’Est and at Le Faubourg we left that Canal onto the Saone which brought us all the way to Lyon.
Ed and I cleaning the boat in the Port of Stenay where we had to stay for 10 days.
Not sure where it was exactly but somewhere along Canal de l’Est we ran aground, the boat wouldn’t move an inch. There was no other boat traffic that could help us so we had to come up with a solution. We dropped the dingy into the water, took the anchor into the dingy and paddled to the shore where we tide the anchor chain around a tree. The guys on the boat winched the anchor pulley which was a manual task so it didn’t go really fast. Eventually she came lose and took the anchor back to the boat, loaded up the dingy again and off we went.
Vieuw of ToulCrossing the Moeselle
Eventually we arrived at Lyon where we moored the boat at the marina. After checking in at the harbour masters office, we were informed that we couldn’t continue the final stretch to Marseille due to the low water levels on the Rhone River. We were told we would need to stay there for 10 days after which water was launched into the Rhone from Switzerland. Lyon is a beautiful city but not for 10 day, we were so eager to continue our trip which so far was going so well. Finally the day came that we would leave Lyon. There were so many boats and ships waiting to move down the river.
The Rhone river in LyonPort plaisance LyonView of Lyon
Despite the water flowing in from Switzerland, the water level was dangerously low that it was decided that the first and every fifth boat would had a designated Pilot. All other boats had to follow their exact manoeuvres which was quite stressful at some times. Next stop was the huge lock at Bollène with a drop in height of 23 metres. Luckily the lock was designed with floating bollards, which made the drop quite easy. Once at the bottom of the lock, looking at the sky was very impressive, just two huge black walls and a blue strip of sky.
After passing through the lock, the journey continued smoothly. We stopped at Orange where we stayed for two nights getting ready for the final stretch to Marseille, it now started to become even more exiting. We followed the Rhone River to Avignon and Arles, from there through the Camargue which was awesome too. Once we reached the Mediterranean, we crossed open water to Marseille where we were allocated a jetty for a week so that we could prepare and rig the boat for the crossing by sail to Spain.
Photo of the lock at Bolene in the Rhone river (borrowed from internet).
We checked in at the Marseille Marina office, apparently we should have made reservations, the marina was completely full! The marina manager found a solution; we could use the berth of one of the marina members as he was out on a sailing vacation. The only downside was that we had to be out within fourteen days. No worries, we’ll have everything prepared before that date we said.
With no time to loose we started rigging the boat, erecting the masts, fastening the guy wires, testing the sails etc. I took care of the engine, renewed the oil and checked the cooling system, batteries etc. Tightened all nuts and bolts and also checked the folding keel. All seemed well to go. I suggested to Conrad, the skipper, that we might need to check the propeller and rudder too. He said that it wouldn’t be necessary as it’s still so new. After discussing with the two other lads, we decided to check it anyway. I went into the water with some goggles on, the water in the marina was surprisingly clear. We didn’t have any diving equipment so it was just with a snorkel which went well. After the first inspection it was clear that it wasn’t a bad idea after all. The rudder was fixed by eight nuts and bolts of which several of them had come undone during our voyage down the rivers in France. The propeller and the keel were fine so nothing to worry about that. Of to the store to buy two same size spanners to fit the nuts and bolts of the rudder.
With the spanners tied to my wrists, back into the water to remove one nut and bolt to check the condition of them. It turned out that because they hadn’t been tight they had worn, we decided to replace all eight of them and we added extra an extra nut on each bolt to make sure they couldn’t come un-done again. Conrad was quite pleased with our engineering action!
So now all the preparations had been done, we went out and bought provisions for the next step of our voyage, crossing the Golf du Lyon. According to the books we had read, it was advisable to follow the French coast to Spain. This due to the possibility of the Mistral storms which were very unpredictable. The four of us talked about the crossing to Spain and came to a consensus that it would be better to cross straight over, would save time and money. The following morning the marina manager came to inform us that the owner of the berth had planned coming back sooner than expected and that we had to leave the next morning. Although we were mentally not one hundred percent prepared we arranged to leave the following morning. We sat down with the map and planned to crossing in detail, Spain here we come. In the evening we all went out for diner, we had bouillabaisse in a local restaurant, a place where only locals go to, no tourists at all. Although it tasted well, it was not something I would order again, I can still see those fisheyes staring at me.
Early the following morning we left Marseille, at first we used the motor and once out on open water we put up the sails, one by one as no one of us had ever sailed on this boat before. So with the compass set at Roses, we were finally heading for Spain. During the day all went very smoothly, not much wind but enough to keep us going and to learn how the boat handles on open water. We took turns steering the boat which wasn’t that difficult at all, just keep the eyes on the compass.
All went well even the first hours of darkness was pretty smooth and easy going, but then, suddenly out of nothing huge waves and strong wind, getting worse by the minute. We were in a heavy storm, one they had warned us about, a Mistral storm, the boat was making very heavy movements and slamming onto the waves didn’t make it easier. We all started to feel seasick and inside the living compartments things were not much better, the furniture was going all over the place, the bookshelves were emptied, the cupboard doors opened and everything inside was flying through the cabin, which wasn’t looking very good!
Ed and I were the only two not sick, the others couldn’t do anything, they were in the cabin too sick to help Ed and I navigated the boat. The storm was so strong that the steel cable of the main sail snapped, the sail fell into the water long side the boat. So now we were sailing on the small sail only but the boat was tilting so bad we were scared it would capsize. Ed and I decided that it might be better to continue by motor and take the sail down. The engine wouldn’t start so I had to check why that was. It appeared that the exhaust was full with water and there wasn’t enough pressure to clear it. I had to remove the exhausted, start the engine and after emptying the exhausted replacing it again. Believe me; it wasn’t as simple as I just wrote!
Now we were sailing by motor, we took down the last sail too, staring at the compass all night, Ed and I navigated the boat until the storm was over. Now all four of us were in the steering cabin, trying to figure out where we were. Finally we noticed the lighthouse of Roses; it appeared that we were way off course.
Full sail on the way from Marseille to Roses in Spain crossing Golfe du Lion (Mediterranean sea).
Approaching Roses from a completed different angle as planned we were sailing along the coast. Suddenly the boat stopped, we had stranded on a sandbank, stuck, couldn’t go any were and we were so close. After sitting there for a while we saw this guy on the beach waving at us, it was a Guardia Civil, Spanish police. Somebody had to go to the shore and get help, that somebody was me, with dry clothes in a plastic bag tied around my arm; I went into the water and made it to the shore. The policeman was not very helpful, but took me to Roses where we managed to find a fishing boat to sail out to sea to pull the Zig-Zag from the sandbank and into the harbour.
In the harbour we realised how much damage we had suffered and how lucky we had been to survive this dreadful storm. After paying the fisherman for his help we ended up with a fine from the police. He stated that it was forbidden to anchor so close to the coast! No way would he believe that it was an accident.
Port of Roses, Spain.
Once we had done a complete inventory of the damage, we started reparations. First we needed to pump the bilge dry. During the storm the boat hit the high waves so often that water had entered the bilge through the opening of the retractable keel. This is something that needs to be looked into before even thinking of crossing the ocean which eventually would be Conrad’s plan. The cabins and the galley were cleaned up while damages to the interior were repaired. A tricky task was repairing the steel cable of the main sail which had snapped of at the top of the mast. I volunteered to go to the top of the mast, sitting in the bosun seat the guys winched me up for a preliminary inspection. From the ground the mast didn’t look as high as when being up there. With every little swell in the harbour, the boat moved with the waves, it wasn’t much but enough when at the top of the mast. One moment I was above the boat, the following moment I was hanging over the water. Anyway, the inspection showed that not only the steel cable had broken but also the pulley. All required parts were ordered and replaced making everything was as good as new, maybe even better!
Me making repairs at top of mastView from the top
After a week or so we started planning the next leg of our trip, not sure yet where the finish would be. We left Roses heading for Barcelona, which was probably not more than 200 km which would be approximately 110 nautical miles. It was a beautiful day and a pleasure to sail along the coast.
The trip to Barcelona was exceptional relaxed and pleasant, we were very content with all the repairs we had done in Roses, the boat sailed beautiful and it felt like a real vacation. Arriving at Barcelona, we moored at the marina which is very close to the city centre, just a short walk to the famous La Rambla. It was so pleasant being there that we decided to stay a couple of days longer allowing us to some sightseeing.
From Barcelona we sailed to Alicante with overnight stops in Tarragonaand Castellón de la Plana where we just stayed for the night. During the trip I had spoken with my parents several times by calling them “reversed charges”. As they knew we would be going to Alicante, my dad had sent me post to Poste Restante and the main postoffice. After collecting my mail, back on the boat I opened the letter and to my surprise I found my draft papers for military service. That was not what I had expected at all. After it had sunk in, I made some inquiries at the local Dutch Consulate.
Apparently I had two choices, go back home or stay away for ten years. After this time I would be free and couldn’t be charged for not showing up. Now that’s a tough call at that age. I had to face the facts and go back home; this after receiving an interest-free loan from the Dutch government provided by the Dutch Consul I bought my train ticket back home. On October 31st 1972 I said goodbye to Conrad, Ed and Robert at the station of Alicante. It took almost 24 hours before I arrived in Amsterdam where two days later I had my medical for military service. It was only two week later that I was drafted for 18 months service for Her Majesty.
Conrad and his crew continued their adventures, first sailing the Mediterranean, then to the Canary Islands from where they crossed the Atlantic Ocean to the Caribbean, up the East coast along the Hudson River to the great lakes. Then down the Mississippi, along the west coast of Florida, via the Bahamas and Haiti through the Panama canal up to San Francisco where he arrived in 1981 after traveling for nine years. How different would my life have been if I had stayed on board, we will never know..
After I had finished school in June 1970 I decided to have a vacation before I would start work in October. I had seen an advertisement for students to go strawberry picking in Eccles on Sea in Norfolk, the combination of traveling and earning some money seemed like a great idea. The urge to go traveling most likely came from my brother who had been backpacking through Europe; also my mum had some lodgers from England, Wales and Denmark with whom she worked with at the Hilton in Amsterdam. These lodgers where traveling Europe too, mainly hitchhiking. Their stories just sounded so great that I wanted to experience some of that adventure. So after lots of discussion and convincing my mum we started preparing my trip. First I needed a passport, and because I was born in England the most obvious thing to do was to apply for a British passport. Off I went to the consulate in Amsterdam with the photos. Then I needed to get my stuff together. The most important item, a backpack which I borrowed from my brother Pete, bought a second hand tent, a sleeping bag and other requirements needed for a backpacking trip.
Mum was not yet one hundred percent convinced that hitchhiking was a great idea and suggested I use public transport, as they provided me with extra cash for this, obviously I saw no reason to decline this generous offer. Finally the day arrived, the overloaded backpack was placed on the table; I put the straps around my shoulders. After the first step forwards, I almost fell backwards, the backpack was so heavy, but I was cool and didn’t want to let anybody notice and held myself strong. After promising like a hundred times that I would be careful and that I would call home every so many days I left through the front door. The first obstacle begun, walking down the stairs from our flat on the third floor, holding to the railings on both sides so firmly so that I didn’t fall over backwards, I manged to get down without injuries. Out onto the street and walked to the corner, I looked back and saw the whole family on the balcony waving and throwing hand-kisses, so well meant but back then I found it so embarrassing.
Arrived safe and well at the bus stop and got myself a ticket to Amsterdam central station. The day I went to collect my passport I had also bought my train ticket to Hoek van Holland. After arriving at the ferry terminal I boarded the ferry and found myself a comfortable place where I could settle for the crossing to Harwich from where the following morning I took a bus to Eccles on Sea.
After arriving at the campsite, I was allocated the location to pitch my tent, in the evening there was an introduction and explanation of what you were expected to do. Sounded easy, take an empty crate and fill it with ripe strawberries. The more crates you filled the more you would earn. The first two days went well, the money was flowing into my pocket, this while I started to feel quit ill after eating so many strawberries, which was allowed, as long as you didn’t take them off from the fields.
The third day we had lots of rain which is bad for picking the sweet fruits, stayed in the tent for the whole day. The following day wasn’t much better and the forecast was that it wouldn’t change for the coming week! I overheard a discussion between some other students that a couple of miles down the road you could pick potatoes, and that it would pay better than the strawberries. We moved to the potato farm and started work in the pouring rain.
After a couple of days with severe rain, I decided to quit, the weather forecast was just too bad to hang around. One of the guys tent had been leaking and had no place to sleep. He came from Leeds and we got on well together. We agreed that he could borrow my tent and once he got home he would send it back to my me in the Netherlands. I was so naïve and agreed to this proposal. Naturally the tent never did arrive back home which didn’t please mum at all.
From Eccles on Sea I travelled back down to Ipswich to see my cousin Alan and his wife Beryl. They were very welcoming and set me up in the guest room at the front of the house. First I unpacked my backpack then Beryl washed my clothes of which most were soaking wet. My brother and our lodgers taught me that rolling up clothes would be better than folding them, less wrinkles they said. I removed my fancy apple green disco suit which I had brought with me from the bottom of the backpack; it was bought especially for my brother’s wedding recently that year. After camping for the last week I felt like dressing up nice and tidy for an evening. Needless to say that the suit was wrinkled badly and that it needed pressing first.
All dressed up I walked into the living room causing my cousin and his wife’s jaw to drop. Where do you think are going, he said, you’re not in Amsterdam! I replied that I was going down to the local for a few beers. After being advised not to go there, certainly not dressed like that, I decided to take my chances. I remember well when entering the pub, it went totally silent and all eyes were looking at me and it was quite that you could hear a needle drop. It was a rough bunch, skinheads wearing what was called bovver boots. A bovver boot is a type of boot that was associated with violence. Such boots are generally of sturdy design and may be steel-toed too! After closing time I walked back to my cousin’s house, they obviously had expected the worse. When I went in they asked well, how did that go? I replied that I had a ball, didn’t spend a penny all night. The guys in the pub bought me pint after pint, I was the cool guy for a change which made me feel great. They wanted to know everything about where and how we lived in the Netherlands and everything about Amsterdam! It was truly a night to remember.
To finance my trip I really needed more cash in my pocket, so the following day my cousin took me to a local marquee company to ask for a job. I believe the name of the company was Rants and Jackal. They were specialised setting up huge marquees for grand events. I stayed with them for a couple of days until I had enough cash in my pocket to continue my trip. I decided to travel to Preston to see Hazel, a friend of my mother. She lived at Spring Gardens which is on the outskirts of Preston. Alan took me to the edge of town where I started hitchhiking, I believe that I had a dozen rides before I arrived at my destination in Preston, a distance of approximately 400 km. Hitchhiking does come with risks, like this one guy who couldn’t keep his hands to himself, he continuously kept touching my knee and stroking my leg, after a while he realised that I wasn’t interested he dropped me of in the middle of nowhere. Anyway, safe and well I walked back to the main road and continued my trip to Preston.
Hazel was very surprised to see me at her front door; she welcomed me in and offered a place to stay. The following days it was just one big party with many different people walking in and out. The whole day we were playing records and drinking beer. One record that was played over and over again was All Right Now from the band The Free. One evening we went Ballroom Dancing at the Winter Gardens in Blackpool, I looked great again in my cool apple green suite!
It was time to head back home, in the morning, not long after I left Hazels house, I caught a direct ride all the way from Preston to Harwich and the driver had never picked up a hitchhiker before and was very concerned about my wellbeing. It’s too dangerous to travel like this he said, I am going to Harwich too and will take you all the way. I was so lucky! During the trip we stopped various times and each time he bought me drinks and food, all that without a catch, just a friendly bloke. I checked in onto the ferry looking forward being home the following day.
