Nick Hall’s Reminiscences

I recently visited Bowness, the first time for many years, and discovered to my delight from touring the Windermere Jetty Museum that Shamrock is still going strong and is well cared for. I understand she is kept at the Wray Castle boathouse, so it was a disappointment not to be able to see her. I thought you might enjoy reading my recollections, which you are welcome to share with your members if desired.

 

In 1969 I was a Sussex lad waiting to go up to Oxford for the start of my studies, and wondering how to earn a bit of money for the summer but at the same time enjoy myself and perhaps experience life in a part of the UK with which I was unfamiliar. Thus I boarded a train at Euston, and several hours later stepped off at Windermere station – through carriages available in those days! I soon secured lodgings in North Terrace and by a series of happy coincidences a job as a motor launch driver with the Bowness Bay Boating Company. So agreeable did I find it that I remained in the job for four summer seasons, 1969 – 1972.

 

Starting as a rookie driver I was allocated one of the smaller boats, the Miss Pat. But the moment I set eyes on the Shamrock I knew that here was a very special craft indeed, and determined that I should become its driver! My wish was soon granted and I became Shamrock’s regular driver for the first and second of my seasons, 1969 and 1970. I also did my best to smarten it up in a modest way. Some of the ornamental brass stanchions forward of the cabin were missing, and those that remained had not seen a polishing rag for years. I’m not even sure that any of the nice white ropes threaded through the stanchions were in situ. I managed to persuade management to pay for a can of Brasso – no mean feat as the Bowness Bay Boating Company was famously reluctant to part with any of its money for “unnecessary” luxuries such as polished brasswork. I may even have reinstalled the white ropes.

 

This brings me to the photograph on page 3 of Victor Middleton’s book Shamrock and her Times; the tall skinny young man in command of Shamrock could so easily be me! I’m not confident, though; I certainly can’t remember posing for such a photograph, nor had I seen it before recently purchasing a copy of the book. The white ropes could easily have been my work, although I’m not confident about the shirt that the driver is wearing.

 

In fact there was little competition to drive the Shamrock. It was not popular with the other drivers; with its petrol / paraffin engine (more of that anon). It could be a pain to get going on damp mornings, its steering pulled to one side so the wheel could not be left unattended without carefully rigging up a suitable length of rope and tying to a cleat, and landing at a pier if one approached a little too fast required the power of prayer in addition to the skills acquired in training. In reverse her stern pulled to starboard, so approaching the piers at Bowness with the pier on the left side and a north-westerly blowing meant that one could easily find oneself ignominiously and uncomfortably close to the beach by Shepherds boathouse. Also the “to and fro” fitted bilge pump handle was hopelessly inefficient and recourse was perforce made to a portable rotary bilge pump which seemed designed to take skin off the operator’s fingers rather than shifting any reasonable quantity of water.

 

Victor Middleton in his book is not entirely fair to Shamrock’s internal combustion engine by describing it as noisy. The petrol / paraffin (TVO) engine, a Morris commercial to my recollection, was certainly not so. I remember, on days driving down the middle of the lake with no passengers on board, I could set a course (using the aforementioned length of rope and a cleat) and sit in the bow to enjoy the sunshine. You would scarcely know there was an engine running! The big problem in those days was the gearbox. You could put it into reverse in order to land alongside a pier but Shamrock would decide for herself whether she was minded to provide some reverse thrust or not. Fortunately nothing serious came to pass. After two seasons in charge of Shamrock I was beginning to hope for the installation of a diesel, and a modern self-changing gearbox. On damp mornings the chaps with diesel boats would press a button and away they’d go, while I was still fussing around inside the distributor with a dry rag. The engine had to be started from cold using petrol from a very small tank in the bow. After it was warmed up you operated a valve in the engine compartment and switched to the much larger tankful of TVO. Generally the “downtime” between trips on the lake was short enough that you could leave the paraffin in the feed and successfully start up again when required. But if the rain came down between trips and the trippers stayed in the cafe the engine would cool so much that paraffin was not good enough for a restart. A lengthy exercise in bleeding the system would then be required, much to the irritation of management (and to the driver). But be careful what you wish for! On my third season (1971) I was delighted to arrive at the Bay and find that over the winter Shamrock had been fitted with a brand new, shiny diesel engine and gearbox. A couple of days’ driving proved how wrong I had been  – noisy, smelly and the vibrations shook every plank in the boat. A beautiful craft had been destroyed. But at least I could roar up to the pier “like an express train” as Jim Fleming once chided me, and stop on a sixpence. Fortunately by this time I was something of a senior driver amongst the largely student workforce, and I graduated to the larger boats. I didn’t have much to do with Shamrock after that.

 

As Osprey is now also a beautifully restored steamboat I should say a few words about her appearance in those days. Osprey’s regular driver was an old fella (as 20-years old me regarded him) name of Bill Taylor, generally known as “Taffy”. Taffy was as Westmorland as any of the locals, and I once asked him why he was called Taffy. He said it was because he was born in Wales. I asked him how long ago it was when he moved to Bowness. He replied that he was three months old! Osprey was very much a one-man boat, and Taffy wasn’t too keen on anybody else driving her. I doubt if I drove her more than a couple of times in four seasons of work. Unlike Shamrock her appearance had been utterly ruined. A large plywood canopy had been constructed forward of the cabin, covering the steering position and the whole of the engine compartment. Useful protection for the driver in rain, but Osprey was barely recognisable as a classic Edwardian launch. A diesel engine and self-changing gearbox had been fitted long before Shamrock’s in 1971, and actually was not excessively noisy or prone to vibration.

 

I hope you have enjoyed these recollections. One day, perhaps, you’ll let me take the wheel again, and we’ll see how much I remember of driving this beautiful craft after a gap of 53 years – having had nothing whatever to do with boats in the interim.