Messing about in small boats seems to’ve been a family thing for us Wilsons.
My father lived in Worser Bay Wellington for a time when he was a lad and used to describe going over the road to catch a butterfish off the rocks for breakfast before school. Wonder if that is still a possibility these days? He was always a fan of clinker built boats for their seaworthiness and possibly the craftmanship that went into building them. He and his young mates used to row across the harbour to a beach devoid of houses or people and there apparently they’d skinny dip, then dry off in the sun. One evening they started off back home when suddenly the inter-island ferry loomed up and nearly put paid to their cross-harbour shennanigans. Dad said it was a near miss with death.
Another waterway and incident when I was young and went with a young mate to sail across Akaroa harbour in the yacht he and his dad had built. It was a Merlin Rocket of 14 foot (4.3 m) which came out of England after the merging of 2 designs around 1951. Matey and I set off but the thing wouldn’t lift and sail to it’s capacity, due to a hairline crack in the forward section which let in water. However it moved, albeit a little sluggishly in comparison to the way it was supposed to, but was enough to keep us more or less happy. We made it to a bay across the other side, which I think was called Tikao for those of you familiar with the harbour. While congratulating ourselves on our sailing skills my friend suddenly went pale and said “we’re becalmed behind the headland and drifting onto those rocks, Dad’ll kill me if I sink it!” We both found something to paddle with and went at it like mad things and finally began to edge away from the rocks and far enough out to catch some air.
Camping in The Sounds was a highlight of my very young years and on one trip things could’ve gone very pear shaped indeed. We’d hiked to a site in the outer sounds and had grabbed a rowboat to try and catch fish for tea. There were four of us in the small boat and in spite of no bites, we persisted long after the light of day had faded and began the row back in what we thought was the right direction. Our dodgy circumstances included the darkness, too many in the small craft and not a lifejacket between us. Nuts ! Fortunately those on shore lit a fire and we had a beacon to aim for, but in retrospect the “what ifs” perhaps needed some thought…..20 20 hindsight again!
A certain interest in not having to rely on oar power in later years led to the purchase of a Parkercraft. Now these wee beasts are very useful in that they are easily handled and good for chugging around in flat water, providing everyone on board remains central and seated throughout the entire performance! If not they can be, er, a little unstable and a trip to Lake Ianthe with the former owner of my newly purchased wee tinny gave us both a fright. He was a dry fly man but I suggested a wet fly up a little creek and the take was instant, with the battle bringing a very nice brownie to the boat. I offered to land it for him and as I gingerly extended the net, my mate slid across to take a look, tipping the gunwales under and water rushed in neccessitating a quick move back over the other way to right the thing. It was close!
On another occasion I went with a senior member of our angling club to Lake Poerua and during our enjoyable day he suddnely said “we need to get off the lake right away.” The wind and whitecaps had sprung up and while we did make it back to the ramp safely, much longer out there would’ve certainly made a nasty difference to the outcome, proving yet again its important to watch for changes in the conditions.
Then came the moment when I put the seal of disapproval on my tinny for good and all. I’d been up a sheltered backwater on Brunner and eventually came out to find the afternoon wind, which starts up around 1.15pm in the summer, had begun to turn the lake into a sea of whitecaps. This gave me two options, the first and correct one being to go quietly around the edges back to the ramp, but of course it would have taken much longer. I chose to charge straight across the lake with the waves on my beam, until without warning one rose right by the boat and over it went, cracking my ribs on the gunwale and water flooded in. A quick leap back to the centre of the seat righted the thing and bailing as I went, plus turning into the larger swells as they appeared, meant that while I made it back to the ramp unscathed I was considerably chastened. I sold the tinny to a family of four and my hope remains there are still four of em!
Seems our son in Inglewood, Taranaki, is carrying on the family tradition as he has a classic style motorboat (image) plus a jetski which he and his family enjoy blatting about on when they get time away from their hospo biz at Funk Fish. He has all the safety gear and their girls go to swimming lessons so there’ll be plenty of fun in the sun without the mishaps of his forebears. Meanwhile if nothing else, the tinny taught some valuable lessons – watch the weather, note any changes in conditions, always wear a PFD., don’t be impatient, make good choices, make your intentions known and get the motor serviced regularly. What could possibly go wrong? Almost anything or everything, so as a good scout would say, “be prepared.”
