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TREW’S TRAVELS


PANISH Tourist Board ‘went overboard’ to be more hospitable than ever to our local Travel Trade and Travel Media by holding their annual pre-Holiday World hospitality events on board the SS NOMADIC.


As well as meeting up with my Spanish friends, I was thrilled to enjoy an excellent lunch amid the unique ambiance of a rare survivor of Belfast’s world- renowned maritime greatness. Yes, Nomadic is our fi nal link with the White Star Line - the most famous customers of Harland and Wolff who built all their great liners, notably RMS Titanic.


February 2019 Travel News


ALL ABOARD FOR NICE NAUTICAL NEWS! JOHN TREW


By Award Winning Travel Writer


Many readers will already know that Nomadic was bought by our then government in 2006 and was restored to her 1911 glory by H&W as one of its its rare shipbuilding jobs. She is now nestled in the historic Hamilton Dry Dock, and has been incorporated since 2015 with neighbouring TITANIC, Belfast’s Number One Visitor Attraction with tickets that include a Nomadic tour. Nomadic was designed and built by the same people as Titanic, to function as the quarter-size tender for her big sister at Cherbourg, whose harbour was too shallow for the World’s Biggest Ship. Sad to say, Nomadic only performed that function once, when she ferried 172 Ist and 2nd Class passengers from the new White Star Terminal on Cherbourg quayside, to join the maiden voyage of Titanic, anchored half-an hour away. Those excited passengers were to become the luckless victims in history’s most famous maritime disaster four days later.. However, in her chequered subsequent history, Nomadic was to serve as a ferry many more times. She was requisitioned as an Allied vessel in WWI and ferried thousands of American soldiers from transAtlantic troopships in and out of Brest harbour until 1919. During WWII, she took part in the 1940 evacuation of Cherbourg and was saved from the Nazis by the Royal Navy; from her new base in Portsmouth she served as a coastal patrol vessel, minelayer and D-Day auxiliary. After the war, she returned to Cherbourg and ferried the likes of CHARLIE CHAPLIN, JOHNNY (Tarzan) WEISMULLER, RICHARD BURTON & LIZ TAYLOR towards their staterooms on the great ocean liners of the day, such as Queen Mary and Queen Elizabeth, until retiring on November 4, 1968. She remained unused and unloved for ages until she was eventually rescued from an ignominious end in the shipbreaker’s yard, by an enterprising Parisian, who has become an unsung hero of Belfast’s shipping heritage by keeping her alive. He was called YVON VINCENT and he refurbished her as a fl oating restaurant and entertainment venue, ending up on a prominent riverside location in the centre of Paris for 22 years.


That’s where I fi rst set eyes on SS Nomadic - but it was not the fi rst time I had heard of her. This was the ship I had listened to my father, Thomas James Trew, talking about as ‘The Wee Sister’. It was a vessel he had worked on when he was an apprentice riveter at the time Titanic, Olympic and Nomadic were all being built simultaneously in the World’s Greatest Shipyard. I have been a regular visitor to Paris since my student days in the 1960s, and was an enthusiastic guest on the Press/Media fl ight (as Editor of the Belfast News Letter) which inaugurated the Aer Lingus service to the astonishingly futuristic Paris Charles de Gaulle Airport back in the mid-1970s. We were treated to a no-expenses-spared Press Trip: Hotel George V (v.dear indeed!); Irish Embassy champagne reception; exquisite €150-a-head dinner in Le Taillevent (3 Michelin stars); Crazy Horse Saloon (saucy but untacky show); Tours of CDG and, to make this old gossip relevant, a Seine boat trip. By 1974, time of that Press freebie, the Nomadic was operating as a daytime fl oating Japanese restaurant on the bank of the Seine opposite the famous Bateau Mouches sightseeing cruisers’ terminal near Eiff el Tower. It was while awaiting a boat to take our Press Party cruising down the Seine that I pointed to the big title ‘NOMADIC Cherbourg’ on the stern of the white restaurant across the river.


“That’s a White Star Line ship built in Belfast,” I loudly proclaimed by way of asserting my superior knowledge in front of a distinguished Press Pack including Henry Kelly and my late friends, Frank Delaney, Ian Hill and David Dunseith. “How d’ye know that?” demanded Henry, the ebullient Irish Times journalist (later TV quizmaster on Going for Gold). “Just think about it,” sez I. “BritannIC, OlympIC — all White Star ships end in I C”. “That’s certainly true of Titanic,” retorted Frank Delaney, the witty broadcaster. “She defi nitely ended up in ‘I C’ waters!” How I miss Frank’s sparkling wordplay, the multi-cultural craic of Ian (my best friend for over 40 years) as well as the encouragement of David during my couple of years as a Talkback weekly contributor before my extended stay in the USA. I always meant to have a lunch on board Nomadic during my many visits to Paris during the 80s and 90s when we rented a succession of diff erent fl ats in our favourite city through my friend Gail Boisclair’s PerfectlyParis.com apartment rental company. Nomadic was towed away from Paris in 2002 and eventually restored to greatness back home, She was


canal lovers - like the Crockarts, Fords and Trews on that occasion.


SISTERS UNITED: I photographed TITANIC’s little sister, SS Nomadic from the stern, in the historic Hamilton Dry Dock where she was originally fi tted out in 1911. Nomadic was registered


in Cherbourg, as you can see, and had a local crew because she was intended to work in French waters only


Across the nearby high metal bridge (designed by Gustav Eiff el who is reputedly also responsible for a big tower somewhere around Paris) you can walk from The Blue Shutters B&B to a gob-smacking visitor attraction called AMPHORALIS. This is a vast Gallo- Roman pottery where archaeologists have uncovered thousands of terracotta tiles, oil lamps, bricks and,in particular, those distinctive oval jars called amphorae that were used for olive oil and wine. Indeed, wine jars made around 50BC in this factory of 17 kilns in southern France have recently been recovered from an ancient wreck in the Baltic nearly two thousand miles north! Alas, wine of that particular vintage is no longer available from the local co-operative winery where we went for cheap but very drinkable Vin du Pays. We were there when a huge mound of sour black grapes were being delivered off a lorry and down a chute. The driver smiled at me and threw the smouldering butt of his cigarette into the grapes and exclaimed: “Gauloise pour notre saveur fumé celebré!” - which roughly translates as ‘Stinking Gauloise butts give our wine its famous smokey fl avour!’


HERE I AM, seated centre left, together with my Spanish friends who came to promote sunshine destinations, particularly Murcia’s Costa Calida, at Holiday World Belfast. As you


will see in my main story, they hosted their traditional events on board ss Nomadic , which explains the two portholes: From left: Carlota Farriol,PortAventura World; my good friend Paco Gutierrez, Spanish Tourist Board,London; Rosa Ferrer,Castellon; Inga Norvilyte,guest; John Trew, veteran travel journalist; Pere Granados, Mayor of Salou: and Natalia Bel, Salou Tourism


described in the Nomadic Preservation Society’s book as BELFAST’S CHILD. I glowed with pleasure when I toured the elegant interior of this truly iconic product of Ulster ingenuity,thanks to Spanish hospitality. ¡Muchas gracias, amigos!


There’s more to French waters than Perrier and Badoit!


THOSE HAPPY memories have recalled the tidal wave of French waterways reports I have shared over a quarter-century with readers of Trew’s Travels - Ireland’s longest-running tourism column. These enthusiastic boating articles contributed to my award by the French Government of the Medaille de Tourisme - the fi rst person from the island of Ireland to be so honoured.


Following a delightful dozen cruiser/ barge rentals on the Shannon-Erne system over the years, I fell for France. From self-guided canal boats in Brittany and the South of France, to a luxurious river cruiser on the bustling Rhone and Saone, I have urged readers to sample French waterways. My aquatic love aff air started with an invitation to a Press/ Media Inaugural Trip celebrating a new Ireland - France service. It was the launch of Irish Continental Line’s vessel MV St KILLIAN on the Rosslare-Cherbourg/Le Havre routes. Thanks to ICL’s PR maestro, DON HALL, my wife Karen and I were privileged to sail with our car to France on many occasions on the ‘Killy’ and subsequently aboard the rebranded IRISH FERRIES company’s new vessel, the OSCAR WILDE.


(Irish Ferries services to France, with big new ship W B YEATS replacing Oscar, will re-start in mid- March - not from Rosslare, but from Dublin Port, now seen as being ‘more convenient’. This move has caused bewilderment in the close-knit seafaring communities of Co Wexford among whom my son-in-law Henry was brought up. Thankfully, STENA LINE continues to operate three sailings a week from Rosslare to Cherbourg with the Stena Horizon).


OTTERly unexpected delights on Napoleon’s canal


‘HAVING WET’ our appetites on the salt-water crossing from Rosslare, we were well prepared to hire a cruiser on the fresh waters of Brest-Nantes Canal, which was constructed on the orders of Napoleon to provide a safe inland connection between his two main Western ports. It is now purely recreational. Our cruiser was a bit small for our family but it was OK as a self-drive vessel for someone like me who can’t even drive a car! The Brittany scenery along the canal can be somewhat ‘samey’,with cider orchards, fi elds of grain and pastures - then you suddenly see something like a totally naked walker, waving (his hand) at us as


we gape in disbelief.


As wildlife lovers, we were advised to seek out the quiet Ile aux Pies (Magpie Island) near REDON where the scenic River Oust and its lakes are surrounded by craggy cliff s on one side, and bullrush covered inlets on the other. I loved to fi sh there while Karen and our daughter Suzy dandered to the village for fresh bread, patisserie and local cheeses. Bliss.


We berthed for the night alongside a rarely-used towpath and slept under a starry sky. I woke at dawn and dressed quietly. I collected a toilet roll, a plastic bag and Canal Guide to read, then crept up the towpath to fi nd a suitable spot for a you-know-what. The perfect place was under a tree with its roots in the water. I crouched with my back against the tree-trunk and went about my business…


What happened next has lived with me for years and I can see it in my mind’s eye exactly as I witnessed it then: An adult otter swam out of her underwater den just below where I was squatting, and circled the river tentatively without spotting me. Another otter, the size of a tiny pup, fl oated out, followed by two more babies. They soon were playing underwater hide-and-seek the the crystal waters while Mother Otter patrolled the area vigilantly, presumably to ensure that a massive pike could not suddenly arrive to make breakfast of her babies.


This astonishing scene went on for ages, but there I was, my shorts around my knees and no camera or camcorder to fi lm close-ups of previously unrecorded wild otter behaviour. Otter-ly unforgettable!


Maxi Fun and Fascination Along the Midi


CANAL DU MIDI is one of the most remarkable waterways of the world and I am proud to have navigated quite a few kilometres of its vineyard-edged delights.


It is part of the ancient Canal Entre Deux Mers linking the Mediterranean and Atlantic; it earned fame in the UK when it was the location for Rick Stein’s French Odyssey series on BBCtv. I have only experienced the scenic section around Beziers which also happens to be where NINE Locks in quick succession form the infamous Fonserranes Staircase where onlookers disparage the fl ustered eff orts of holiday-sailors (like me!).


Our canal craft was the Weekend Break Hideaway of Ulster joint-proprietors who invited us over. There was a total of six good friends on board when we set out but two of us are happier in a bed rather than narrow- boat bunk, so Karen and I opted to leave the vessel after dinner each night and sleep at LES VOLETS BLEUS, a classy B&B in the canalside village of Sallèles d’Aude. It’s in the heart of the seemingly unending Languedoc vineyards and is run by Issy and Nick Evans, a Welsh couple who are now in their 20th year of providing as well as beds, a convivial dinner for hungry and thirsty


An ability to understand French is one of the few skills I have retained from my A-Levels in Annadale Grammar School where Modern Languages were taught by good teachers like John Foster (who bequeathed me a Vienna accent that makes Germans laugh) and French teachers Ernie McCleary and Frank Redhead. I am also indebted to David Coff ey for my lifelong delight in things historical. Thanks, Davey, I will thank you again at the Annadale Schools Cup 1958 Reunion lunch at the Four Winds on St Patrick’s Day.


I was occasionally taken for being French as I used to have a gallic moustache and was built like an old-school French rugby hooker back in the day. One afternoon I was waiting around one of the many locks on the Canal du Midi, wearing denim jeans and a navy blue top — the traditional working-mens’ outfi t in France. I saw a cruiser coming in,complete with Hoseason’s pennant and incompetent posh Englishman wearing a new Admiral’s Cap. He tried throwing me his line three times before I could catch it. He shouted rudely at me: “ I say, Vous, Mon-Sewer. Attendez moi, immediatement.” I thought to myself, this idiot reckons he can boss me around because he thinks I’m one of those French johnnies who exist just to serve the likes of him.


“Parley voo Englais,” he asked. “Oh yes, Mon Capitaine, I spik a leetle,” sez I. “We need water” sez he. “I get you plenty, Mon Capitaine Twenty Euros to fi ll, ” sez I. “Oh dear…that seems a lot, but OK.” I went to the garage-style pump on the quay, hoping that he couldn’t translate the big EAU LIBRE sign on it and pulled the long hose over to fi ll up his cruiser’s tank. When I fi nished he handed me two 10 Euro notes plus - wait for it - a 50 cent coin.


“That’s a very generous tip, sir, and I will treasure it forever”, I said in my normal Ulster accent, leaving him very puzzled indeed as I walked up to the village to put the €20.50 which I had embezzled from the rude man, into the poor-box outside the church. Happy days!


STAIRWAY TO HELL is the nickname of this complex of ‘staircase locks’ near Beziers on


the Canal du Midi. Amateur crews are often mocked by sight-seers when they get fl ustered by non-stop,exhausting work getting their boats through a succession of cramped locks. I loved it from the bottom here, but hated to be met by a bigger crowd than now attends nearby Beziers Rugby stadium since their team was relegated...


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