Adventure of life J
JOHN RIDGWAY
An inspirational meeting with John Ridgway, rower, sailor and outdoor trainer, interviewed and photographed by Patrick Roach
ohn Ridgway’s handshake is firm and he stares into your eyes. He asks lots of challenging questions, but is always in complete control: you must rise to the challenge. Here in Ardmore, he has created a special community with his family. The first challenge is reaching it.
Opposite: John Ridgway at Ardmore, with his Holman & Pye ketch English Rose VI behind his shoulder
46
Sutherland is a 700-mile drive from the south coast (Spain is nearer), but that was no real problem. And John’s directions were simple enough: follow the lane off the main road signposted to ‘Ardmore’ until you get to an old Land Rover permanently parked at the end for post, provisions etc. After that, just follow the track, it’s all on foot. What we had not expected was to need the tracking ability of Tonto: there were three mountain passes, two crevasses, a stream and a waterfall to climb over. After this a steep climb up the side of the loch to a glossy green bank in a clearing at the top. It took us an hour and a half; his grandchildren apparently do it in 40 minutes, travelling to their school each day. We felt as if we had been spat out into Ardmore, which lay before us, a magical group of charming weather- boarded houses, above the glorious Loch Laxford. John had invited my friend Joanna and me to call in for a cup of coffee (as long as I brought chocolate wholemeal biscuits!). He proved to be charismatic and charming, autocratic but with an old-fashioned courtesy. He is very happy to talk but he can be provocative and teasing. He has always been restless, constantly planning travels and writing books, and he is a keen naturalist. He has a beautiful garden, plantations of rare trees and knows all about the local wildlife. He has all his possessions around him; they fill the house. All the things that he and Marie Christine, his wife, have collected over the years are contained in this home. There is no wall space: there are photographs, paintings, wall hangings, letters, rugs and textiles, natural objects like shells and…. books, books and pamphlets on every conceivable subject. The house has increased in size and structure; he has had to build a tower up on the roof as he ran out of space sideways, to accommodate all that pleases him. It is like a museum devoted to the Ridgway philosophy and spills out into other buildings. Some of these are
CLASSIC BOAT FEBRUARY 2012
inhabited by people who work for John, Marie Christine and their daughter Rebecca. There is also an old smokery and a boatbuilding shed.
Everything is precious, as transporting materials to this isolated spot is hard work. When building a much- needed slipway, many tons of concrete were required. This was no problem for John Ridgway – (yes, he did carry it himself) – he and his instructors brought 103 tonnes of materials across the loch.
For the next few hours we were royally entertained, except that I forgot to bring the biscuits; punishment lay in wait.
RECORD-BREAKING ROW It was in 1966 that the 26-year-old paratrooper Captain John Ridgway made his first claim to fame when he recruited Sergeant Chay Blyth to row a 20ft (6.1m) boat across the North Atlantic from Cape Cod to Ireland for a record-breaking attempt. They had known each other for about eight years and shared a great respect for each other’s considerable abilities, having endured many parachute jumps and survival exercises around the world as well as long-distance kayaking together. Their passage is well documented elsewhere, but when they set off the US Coast Guard predicted a 95 per cent chance of their committing suicide. After that, John explains, “A lot of people wanted to be the last to shake our hands. Once you say you’re going, there’s a lot of people wanting to see if you’ll die.” After two and a half months in atrocious conditions, their health aboard the boat – English Rose III – had deteriorated, but they determinedly plodded on. Their oilskins were disintegrating along with their bodies. Besides backaches, swollen feet, and blisters, painful rashes caused them misery. In addition, John suffered from boils, an excruciating vestige of an earlier bout with blood poisoning. He felt he was worn out and dying. That was the real challenge.
Their previous military training stood them in good stead for this hare-brained idea and doubtless ensured their survival. Sadly, two journalists who attempted the same trip around the same time did perish, and their upturned boat was found empty in the mid-North
Page 1 |
Page 2 |
Page 3 |
Page 4 |
Page 5 |
Page 6 |
Page 7 |
Page 8 |
Page 9 |
Page 10 |
Page 11 |
Page 12 |
Page 13 |
Page 14 |
Page 15 |
Page 16 |
Page 17 |
Page 18 |
Page 19 |
Page 20 |
Page 21 |
Page 22 |
Page 23 |
Page 24 |
Page 25 |
Page 26 |
Page 27 |
Page 28 |
Page 29 |
Page 30 |
Page 31 |
Page 32 |
Page 33 |
Page 34 |
Page 35 |
Page 36 |
Page 37 |
Page 38 |
Page 39 |
Page 40 |
Page 41 |
Page 42 |
Page 43 |
Page 44 |
Page 45 |
Page 46 |
Page 47 |
Page 48 |
Page 49 |
Page 50 |
Page 51 |
Page 52 |
Page 53 |
Page 54 |
Page 55 |
Page 56 |
Page 57 |
Page 58 |
Page 59 |
Page 60 |
Page 61 |
Page 62 |
Page 63 |
Page 64 |
Page 65 |
Page 66 |
Page 67 |
Page 68 |
Page 69 |
Page 70 |
Page 71 |
Page 72 |
Page 73 |
Page 74 |
Page 75 |
Page 76 |
Page 77 |
Page 78 |
Page 79 |
Page 80 |
Page 81 |
Page 82 |
Page 83 |
Page 84 |
Page 85 |
Page 86 |
Page 87 |
Page 88 |
Page 89 |
Page 90 |
Page 91 |
Page 92 |
Page 93 |
Page 94 |
Page 95 |
Page 96 |
Page 97 |
Page 98 |
Page 99 |
Page 100