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leaving it all astern

Published December 6, 2008 in going ashore, Pirates, Irishness, England, Irish and From the ship. 5 Comments

One of my favourite vistas, the ship fading into a speck on the horizon and me being carried away at high speed in the opposite direction. The water in the photo being churned up by the launches twin props is Southampton water, as I left the ship at anchor near the Isle of Wight, and got a boat trip into Southampton docks, before being taxied up to Heathrow for further processing.
I don’t know what it is about the English but they have some sort of Irish detection thing going on, I don’t know if it was my leprechaun looks and the bright green outfit with large black belt and shillelagh, while I tugged my forelock shouting “begorrah and top of the morning to you” even though it was 3 in the afternoon or they had been given intelligence prior to my landing on the deck, but the first thing the coxswain said to me was, “You’re Irish, aren’t you?” No good afternoon sir or sit down and let me take your shillelagh and bags of gold sir, straight to the identification of nationality, No I replied Judas like, I’m from Kilburn, London and was raised by an itinerant builder named O’ Sweeney due to the fact that I was orphaned at birth so in fact I’m as English as you are….I only picked up the accent from my guardian and mentor O’Sweeney, …….
Naturally I was taken aback with the sudden request for an authentication of my origin, Yes I replied, Irish as Guinness and Shergar, the two lads in the boat gave a laugh and both started to relate their experiences of Ireland as if I would be in the slightest bit interested. They didn’t ask me if I was a member of the IRA, but mentioned Mountbatten, I said it wasn’t anything to do with me being only 10 at the time. I wondered silently if any other nationalities got the same treatment or was it only reserved for the Irish.

They left me on the docks in the good hands of a taxi driver, who said “You’re Irish, aren’t you?” No I said American from South Boston, but the accent kicks in thanks to a genetic code and the proximity of Ireland, the closer I get the more thick the brogue, and if I landed in Shannon for example I wouldn’t even be able to understand myself.

Yes I said I’m Irish as DeValera and U2, what he said? Nothing I replied a bit of Irish humour.

He of course turned out to be an ex-military and proceed to tell me all about Norn Iron, as if I had never heard of the place and how the problem could be solved, more military seemed to be the gist of his argument. I begged to differ and suggested that the “problems” were being sorted out better now that in a long time and maybe better off to be sorted out by the people that actually live there. This seemed to be an alien and incompatible suggestion, and he changed the subject to his love of tanks and how he had driven across Salisbury plain in one and fulfilled a boyhood dream. Dream on I thought, but said no more as it was he that was driving me to the airport and imminent departure.

I had been dreading the thoughts of Heathrow the whole time, my least favourite airport on the planet, but terminal 4 has now become a ghost town thanks to the new terminal 5, and was manned by a population almost exclusively descended entirely from South East Asia, they were friendly and not really interested in me at all, and they didn’t say “You’re Irish, aren’t you?”

Asgard II sinks in the Bay of Biscay.

Published September 13, 2008 in Sinking, sailing ships, training, wrecks, Ireland, Navigation, Maritime and Irish. 9 Comments

Asgard
the entry in my Discharge book from AsgardII

I read on the internet that the Irish Sail Training Vessel Asgard II sunk on the 11th of September 2008, in the Bay of Biscay. I was deeply saddened to learn of this event, not only because I had done a stint as a trainee on her 17 years ago this November coming, but I have also many dear friends who are closely associated with Asgard II. There are plenty of people who are experts about sailing and tall ships, I am not. I just had one of those lifetime experiences back in 1991 sailing a real tall ship.

I joined her with a gang of trainees in Dublin, and we were to do a trip across to the Isle of Man then on to Wales and back to Dublin. There was plenty of wind so getting under sail wasn’t an issue. One of the first things we had to do after being allocated our bunks and muster stations was to go “up and over” meaning climbing up the rigging to the top of the mast and down the other side. It wasn’t so hard, the ship was alongside and still, I climbed up the first set of ratlines, then you had to reach backwards and climb up the second set, and finally the same for the third set to get to the top of the mast, then climb over and down the other side. I think everyone made it. A few grey faces but no casualties or cases of vertigo. Then we learned the orders for “sheets and tacks”. After a few hours of getting lessons and being divided into port and starboard watches, we sailed from Dublin.

The weather was shite, and before long half the trainees were vomiting over the side, one guy was being washed over with sea and just puking all the time as we rolled and pitched in the Irish sea with the stink of sweat, diesel and boiled cabbage coming from below. The skipper didn’t seem too worried and we had nearly all the sails out. We got to Port St. Mary in the Isle of Man and moored, the weather got worse and we had to put out extra moorings, we still managed to pull a couple of fairleads from their mountings. After a rough night alingside we had a fairly pleasant morning, and we sailed to Douglas, on the way the Bosun wanted 2 volunteers to “go aloft” and strike a sail, I was quick off the mark and he pulled me aside and dug his hard fingers into my shoulder and said “If you think you can’t make it, climb down, no one will think less of you” So I started climbing, about half way up I felt my legs turning to lead and my head started spinning and I thought “fuck this” and was about to climb down when I saw one of the girls climbing up fast as you like blonde curly hair blowing in the wind and right behind me, I would have had to climb over her to get down, valour got the better of discretion and I bit my tongue hard between my back teeth until I could taste blood, and up I went like a monkey, there was no way I was going to look a gobshite in front of the assembled ranks on the decks below even though the ship was rolling and I could see blue water below me half the time. Later back on deck when the adrenaline had faded the bosun gave me a nod, and said “you were thinking about backing?” I nodded he smiled and said “that’s why I sent up blondie!”

On the way back from Wales we had some of the worst weather that had been experienced on the Irish Sea in decades, we were rolling and pitching and the seas were huge piling up behind as we cork screwed across the sea. I wasn’t so scared because I was soaked and puking in between getting salty waves across my face, so I just wanted to die. Finally we got to Dublin. In the end I didn’t want to get off.

17 years ago. The memory is still as fresh as if it was yesterday, the experience of a lifetime. Unforgettable.

Asgard II what a loss.

Balance

Published April 5, 2008 in Wexford, Irish, pinch of salt required and from Erin. 8 Comments

The balance of justice is obviously weighted in favour of one side according to this sign advertising the services of a solicitor in Wexford. I won’t say the name of the establishment for fear of legal repercussions, but I did note that it seemed to be closed or moving shop, but it was on the Crescent Quay, close to yer man John Barry. Who said the legal profession wasn’t honest? You know that their scales are fixed anyway.

I like this cartoon of Blind Justice…..

Blind Justice

Berties exit

Published April 2, 2008 in Bertie, Ireland, Irish, Denmark and Politics. 1 Comment

The Teflon Taoiseach has finally decided to throw in the towel, even teflon wears out in the end and the non-stick surface was getting thinner and thinner and as the heat was starting to burn……resignation, in the interests of the people the nation and nothing whatsoever to do with the tribunals oh no. I heard the news in Danish, we had the local FM radio going as the ship was heading through the Great Belt in Denmark when I heard”Bertie Ahearn, Sinn Fein and Gerry Adams” in the space of 30 seconds so I knew it had to be big if the Danes were bothering their holes to report it. And sure enough a quick surf on the net confirmed the truth.

Bye bye Bertie.

Liverpool (Learphol as Gaeilge)

Published March 29, 2008 in Irishness, graffiti, Liverpool, Police, going ashore, photos, Religion, Ireland, Irish, England, Catholic, History and On the ship. 3 Comments

Famine

I cycled into the city of Liverpool from the docks to have a look around on Easter Monday, we had previously that day tied up in the Huskisson branch dock after going through the Langton locks, a fairly hairy business on the best of days. Anyway I was at the end of the dock taking a photo of the ship when this big white van pulled up, and in it were two big coppers with body armour and the utility belts with cuffs and radios and jaysus know what else.The driver scowls at me and says (THICK SCOUSE ACCENT), what are you doin’?, “I’m off that ship” I point at the subject of the photograph, (SCOUSE)“takin’ a picture of yer own ship, are yeh?” I think I nodded at this when he says “yer, not supposed to be takin’ pictures down here” and that was that, apparently I neglected to read the notice that said “no photography” as I left the gangway, or I would have if there had been such a notice, anyway I was allowed to proceed as the UK isn’t a police state…..

I headed into town and visited Paddy’s Wigwam, for some reason a remnant of my Catholicism pushed me in that direction and it was Easter Monday, it was closed due to a TV recording for HTV so I took a photograph (and played with it in photoshop), I took a few more photos and wandered around the town, it felt familiar even though it was my first visit. I found a memorial to the Famine in the city, I stood at it and was silent, I didn’t take a photograph. I cycled onwards and managed to stay away from anything to do with the Beatles except for seeing some graffiti entitled “Sgt.Pepper spray” very clever.

Beatles
I went to Bootle, won’t be doing that again. Sorry Bootle.

On the way back I found a plaque in English and Irish on the wall near the Clarence Dock gates, 1.3 million Irish people passed the spot where I stood 160 odd years previously avoiding the starvation, I don’t know what I felt. I felt Irish and sad. I took more photos, as I did the white cop van passed me by again, shit I thought and tried to look like I wasn’t the same person. They kept going, and so did I.

Later back on the ship, the mate came into my office, out of breath”The Police” he gasped, slow down I said to him…. “The Police are looking for you”, shite I thought, so I walked down to the control room, and there was my old pal from earlier, “Good evening, Sir, sorry to bother you but you are under arrest for……..only taking the piss, he handed me the following notice, making me understand his suspicion from earlier, he went to explain about all the crooks in the area and warned us to be on the alert, and then he shook my hand and said “good luck now to you” put on his cap and away he went.

Police warning