VOYAGE OF THE “LOCH-ARD”-from Worzel

I need ask, why are all skippers of near derelict boats, such as the “Loch-Ard” named Verne?. And when, at what age and in the name of wisdom, will I ever learn?

In writing his story, I may have given the impression, that I trusted my friend Godfrey  without question, mostly I can report that this was true, when one summer he showed up, all excited, “Worzel dear, he cried, “I have planned a lovely Sunday outing for you’. He was an odd young man who disliked the common beet, but would talk of anything else, talk to anyone he would meet.

“I have met a fine chap, said Godfrey, with a sailboat who will take us for a ramble out to sea, there will be seal viewing, and a luncheon buffet,  and if we bring beer we do not have to pay”. (My husband, a cowboy disliked waves and spray, we left him mind the luggage shop this day).

It was fine summer, hot and clear, I packed Cordial for Godfrey, and 12 tins of beer. Verne was our age, jolly around as his plump, scruffy boat, tufts of grey hair grew through gaps in the long under wear Verne wore neath coveralls. More underwear hung high, in the rigging with care, whispered Godfrey, “his winter pair”.

Feet bare, Verne happily showed me about, I tried not to look at his greasy bunk crammed in the stern, or his galley of crusty cereal bowls, or all the dead flies, proud of the old “Loch-Ard’ was Verne.

Off down the harbor, past the scenic, towering scrap yard, puttered the sturdy  “Loch-Ard”. Godfrey steering, out of hearing, the Skipper drank beer, and gave his tourist spiel. “Oh the old “Loch-Ard”, built her myself, welded from “Baggy- Wrinkle” down to keel, 15 years since we set out from Glascow, meandering where and how we go”.

” Indeed, it was hot, I drained beer number three, I needed to wee, found no toilet on the listing old tub, that crawled at the pace of a snail, no bog, no head, no loo, not so much below as even a pail”.  Crackers, cheese and Spam were our luncheon buffet, I had to go in the worst way”.

“After the seal rocks, we cruised up the wide estuary. To net some flounder in the mud flats, Verne informed me, for our tea. We had to wait out the tide, he put tinny music on, “Ragtime Jazz”, I curled up among engine parts I pushed off the boat’s deck to one side”.

I had to go, as “Loch- Ard” bobbed in the swell, every time I tried to squat in the scupper, Verne would toss me up a flounder for our supper. I implored Godfrey, “use your kilt as a drape of privacy”, he did, and at the worst moment, came the laughter of a boat load of passing families, waving to me.”  I gave up, and prepared for my bladder to burst, thus ending my misery”.

It got much worse, but I will skip the sad verse, more waves from old men as we passed neath the cliffs below a golf course. So bad I near cried, when Godfrey, in his gentle way, offered to toss me over the side. “Pretend to fall overboard so you can pee, no one will see, Verne is now deep into the Sherry”. “So I did, Godfrey was not wrong, Verne was singing, did not even notice I was gone.”

Verne sang, “Oh I married a fine girl from Isle of Man, that makes us Manganese.’ “I bought her a silk dress and a donkey cart, the two of us do as we please. 

I bought her a fine set of fishing gear, built her a cottage of stone, with a big strong privy round the back. She goes there to be alone…. 

The singing was awful, the timing all wrong, Godfrey pulled me out by the scruff of my pants, and insisted on singing along.   Homeward we finally sailed, Verne now passed out, Godfrey steering by the first evening star, I was still soaking wet, and a Pelican or more, had shat all over the car.

“Couples passed, enjoying romantic strolls, two nuns laughed, holding fishing poles, Godfrey reminded me, of “The Wisdom Inherent Of Not Drinking Beer At Sea”. “I lectured him back on Boats Without Toilets And The Folly Of Thinking A Day Out On One For Free”.

“It’s the closest we ever came to a quarrel, as with tufts of grass, scraped Pelican shice from the windshield glass”. “The Pelican crap was sun baked on, with no hose to spray it down, Godfrey hung out the window as I drove, directing us slowly through town”. “Even he was quiet that night, sun and wind burnt we were, smelly is Pelican shite.

“I fumed the nasty drive home, sulked in the bath till the water was cold, declined the stuffed Flounder brought to me in the tub, with a rose on the tray”.   “But I’d take it all back, the time wasted, angry and moping, for a chance to reclaim laughter lost, a chance to relive that day”…

“Summers are just that, and soon like this one, like all do it wafted away”.   As did the “Loch-Ard”, Verne was reported heard singing, heading out, harbor down, southbound”.   “long may the sea you love tickle your stern, may you always be free, “Loch-Ard’ and Verne. “And if , by chance one day return if you do…I only hope you have installed a ship’s loo. “I envision the “Loch-Ard”, snug at anchor in a sweet, sheltered bay, grimy old Verne singing, fixing her up as he goes on his way..

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12 thoughts on “VOYAGE OF THE “LOCH-ARD”-from Worzel

  1. Ah, Mr Clever Boots, don’t know if Shakespeare crossed her mind at the blessed relief..worrit about thou, watching the nasty fires on the news, hope all is well. Thanks for the read.

  2. Bejasus, that’s hot, here, it is pitch dark by 4.30 in the afternoon, our watershed is overflowing, big rainstorms every day. On my commute, in summer is stretch that always reminds me of outer Melbourne/ Tullamarine- you are present,( all of you in my thoughts).

  3. By the way, I just read another blog by Derrick Knight and there are a lot of photos of rural Wales that I now connect in my head with Godfrey. derrickjknight.com/2015/12/22/more-of-north-wales/
    And PS I am the same as above.
    Have a great Christmas.
    Suchled might have to go away for a while.

  4. Thanks, I will check out Mr Knight’s blog- I indeed loved Wales, I was there winter of 86′, I recall sleeping under a hedge in a Tesco parking lot, being so cold hitching a carrot in my pocket froze, and two farmers at a gate, arguing very loudly in Welsh, having the worst flu of my life…wunnerful. You to, have a great Christmas, hope Suchled not gone long, bless you, dear reader,

  5. How happy I am when I return to your blog with plenty of time to catch up. This one is a winner with a plot based on the common plight of all women when traveling with men and no bathroom in sight, Verne’s song about being Manganese, and a skipper named Verne. My dad, too, was Vern and you are right: He had a disreputable aluminum fishing boat he took his grandchildren fishing in.They loved to go, because sooner or later on every outing, their Grandpa fell out of the boat. He claimed he had dizzy spells, but I think he toppled overboard on purpose because it tickled the young ones so.

  6. Oh, I do love it when you drop by, Janet, somehow I must be channeling Verne. The worst I had was 14 hours on an Egyptian bus, that only stopped for the men to pee. It included an open air trough in the middle of a village, with a sign in English- “Men Toilet”. Happy New Year, my friend.

  7. “And when, at what age and in the name of wisdom, will I ever learn?” I’m still waiting for that age/wisdom/learning thing.. At several difficult times I’ve told my children “we’ll about this someday” and we have. But it isn’t funny when it’s happening, especially no loo.

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