81 Life Aboard BY MARIANNE BARTRAM
Marianne lives aBoard the MV TreSHniSH on the river dart With her husBand niGel
hotelier supremo, nigel Way, can make the sun shine- except out of his …well, anyway. The summer is slipping away in a grey onslaught of rain, wind and mist. We are all despairing. How can you paint your boat when you have thirty feet of water under you and another thirty inches pouring down on you? she would be annoyed to be lifted out at the grand old age of seventy one! even the relatively gentle leaning against the scrubbing grid causes galley tiles to pyramid and doors to jam and she takes two days to “take up” for all to return to normal. I doubt we would spring a plank but won’t take the risk of her flying apart in front of us especially as we only have half a stern in place at the moment! (We have been left an unsightly mess through no fault of our own but help is on its way….) As river users we naturally hold the whole team at the
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Dart Harbour office in affection and esteem. They will do anything for you if they can. sulking about the weather, I called Diane, on the front desk, to point out peevishly that as this is a summer mooring and I can’t actually see across the river to her office window due to mist and rain, a refund is surely called for. Without a second’s hesitation she cheerfully informed me that a plan was currently being considered whereby we would all be issued with jam jars and for each ml of rain collected we would be awarded one euro. I was hugely enthused. until I did the sums. And remembered I can’t spend it because I won’t be allowed in anyway as the borders will be closed. Which reminds me – what happened to getting our fishing rights back on exiting the e.u.? I have always been angry beyond reason at the unfair quotas and stupid rules imposed on our fishing fleets.. It’s been two weeks now and all I have caught is one mackerel. I feel very let down. We were both born by the sea but have spent a lot of our lives deep in the countryside and feel equally at home in either but some of the adjustments required are subtle to say the least. When you go shootin’ , fishin’ and huntin’ you must look as though your Barbour has been handed down through several generations, along with your smelly Labrador and battered shotgun. If you buy brand new kit, you will be laughed out of the shoot or worse, branded the sort of person who has to buy his own furniture. ouch ! This ethos does not seem to apply to sailing kit or lifejackets. ours are no longer acceptable as
eel sorely tempted to abandon ship. The Royal Castle beckons, though I don’t suppose even owner and
they are faded, ripped and paint spattered and therefore we look like ruffians. our sailing jackets smell. our hair usually forms the fine halo of stiff upright strands that you normally only see on a baby gibbon. We wouldn’t have perhaps considered the matter until a sailing friend said he’d taken a look at Hub and thought he really looks the part these days... oh dear! Have we got it right or wrong? our social lives afloat are more invigorating than you
I called Diane... to point out peevishly that as this is a summer mooring and I can’t actually see across the river to her office window due to mist and rain; a refund is surely called for.
might think! You may assume that bobbing around in the middle of the river prevents the joy of unexpected guests. You would be wrong. We are now used to what frightened the life out of us some years ago i.e. an ear shattering pounding on the hull and a bellowed “Ahoy there !”. If you happen to be ( as Hub frequently is) still in his dressing gown and looking like the bedraggled creature from the black lagoon or in my case, a bad tempered version of Whistler’s Mother and decide to ignore it, you can’t. They just keep pounding all the harder and anyway it may be that you are sinking or something and it would be rude not
to at least thank them for their concern and avail yourself of their dinghy. But better than that are the parties. We regularly host and attend “Pontoon Parties”. This is for when friends’ yachts arrive and depart so given this happens frequently, we are never short of such delights. In fact it is considered somewhat impolite to depart without it. What is wonderful about them – and do not faint when I say this – is that they don’t depend on vast quantities of stimulants. It is about tales of life afloat, dreams of what comes next and always, always music. You can guarantee that at some point instruments will be produced – guitars, ukuleles, drums and singing - a few sea shanties and not a little pathos because you have just met and instantly liked people who are about to leave. It is a strange and wonderful thing. understandably we have to take some flak about our lack of sea going adventures but I will have you know that a few
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