A life on the river Brian Ridalls


Ridalls, 85 years young, has had a life which has been linked to the river since the day he was born.


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The first baby to be born in the Higher Side Flats, on April 2nd 1926, Brian has been looking to the river for his work, inspiration and solace throughout his life. His warm wit and twinkling eyes sparkle as he regales you with tales of time’s on the river.


He grew up around the south of the town – 20 yards from his school and with the eight boys who also lived in the flats by the time he was school age. It sounds idyllic and frankly something from another age.


But it was the life his father lived which would set Brian on the path to a life lived for, by and on the river. His father was a river pilot, licensed by Trinity House. His name was George Henry Ridalls, and his uniform now hangs in Dartmouth Museum. In the 20s and 30s George was one of four full-time pilots whose only role was to bring in ships safely to the harbour. Based in the Pilots House, which was next to the Customs House on Bayard’s Cove, the pilots were vital to the economic life of the town.


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There were hulks in the river which held coal for the ships, which were fed by ships coming from Newcastle by three floating cranes with grabs that could hold five tons of coal at a time. Men were employed to ensure that coal that was delivered to the hulks was ‘smoothed’ so they were always full to the brim – known as ‘coal trimmers’ or, more often, ‘coal lumpers’. As Brian grew, he and his two brothers, Dennis – who tragically died when he was 25 – and John were all schooled in the ways of the river by his father who was highly respected for his knowledge of it. Life was hard, and the reduction in the number of ships running off coal meant that there was less and less work to do for the pilots. George began running a little 12 seater boat, called Gertrude after his wife, for charters to bring in a little extra money.


Brian and John both went to work for Philip & Son, building boats, before John went off to work on ships at sea. But the whole family felt they could see the way commercial shipping was going: each year fewer ships came in, each year the pilots had less to do. They retired one by one, until in 1960 George Ridalls was the last one left.


“Fewer and fewer commercial ships were coming in to the harbour, and there were more and more holidaymakers. There was no point in being sentimental about it: it was just the way it was.”


They were on call at all times of the day and night – and each one was connected to the developing telephone network so they could be contacted at any time. But life was not easy - they were all freelancers and only got paid for the ships they piloted in – and there was no guarantee enough would come in to support them. ‘I remember taking my father’s lunch down to him in a wicker basket,’ said Brian. ‘And I can remember being taken by my father regular as anything to bring ships in. The pilots had a boat which they used, called Condor, which was moored off Bayard’s Cove. The first ladder, nearest to Bayard’s Fort was the Pilot’s ladder. My mother used to say he would get into trouble, taking out one so young - but I loved it.’


Hundreds of ships would pull into the harbour each week – the pilots were on shifts to deal with the visiting vessels, many of which were stopping off to pick up coal on route to the Mediterranean.


The world of shipping was very different in the 1920s, and Dartmouth, consequently, was a very different port. There was a huge amount of commercial shipping coming into the harbour because it had to – Dartmouth’s position meant it was the natural place to pick up more coal for ships coming from Northern England and the Baltic and aiming to go around to the Mediterranean to deliver goods and timber.


He began to look around long before that day came and decided he needed to make more money on the river. He bought a boat, called Champion, in 1947. Fitting it out with an engine he began to run trips on the river,


charging holiday makers for running them on various fun routes up and down the river – and giving a commentary as they went.


Although the boat was black, it was the beginning of the famous ‘Red Boats’. ‘Champion was an old naval launch, which could carry 42 people,’ said Brian. ‘I used to work at Noss in the winter and then work on the boats in the summer for a few years. ‘We started it because we looked around us and saw they way the river was going. Fewer and fewer commercial ships were coming in to the harbour, and there were more and more holidaymakers. There was no point in being sentimental about it; it was just the way it was. ‘We had a lot of fun and although we had competition in the River Steamboat Company, we kept investing in bigger and bigger vessels, starting with the Hearts Content, which held 80, the Dartmothian, which used to be owned by the naturalist Tony Soper, onto things like the Queen of Helford, The Dartmouth Princess, My Queen and the Dittisham Princess.’ Brian retired from the Red Boats in 1986 – his brother continued on with his wife Sylvia until the 1990s.


‘It was a wonderful life, and one which we both owed to our father,’ said Brian. ‘I’ve been living around, and working on the river since I can remember, and I love the river, it’s just perfect, and I still love it as much as I did when I was a lad.’u


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