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Bridging the generation gap – Part 2

February 4, 2017

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My earliest childhood memories come from blissful days onboard my late grandfather’s boat Dara. Recently, I was given some old plans and charts that belonged to him. The large plan above for example is the rigging arrangement from the T.S.S. Clan Chisholm built by the Greenock & Grangemouth Dockyard Co Ltd. The blueprint is dated 27th September 1937, and after doing a little Googling I discovered that the 463.8 ft ship was launched on 05/08/1937, completed in October 1937, and sunk by torpedo on the 17/10/1939, about six weeks after the start of World War II.

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One chart in particular caught my eye.

Over the last thirty years, I have occasionally tried to rediscover the precise location of my grandfather’s mooring. I always understood that Dara was moored off Clynder. I had previously looked at the cine footage, looking for clues in the background (such as the house above), but was never able to translate that into tangible results on location in Clynder.

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The chart that I was given proved to be the holy grail; it gave me the missing detail that solved the puzzle. I had been looking in the wrong place, and with the map to hand, the crew and I found the house above, which is the same house that can be seen in the cine film …albeit with 2017-style hipster foliage.

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With chart in hand [see below], we positioned ourselves with the aforementioned house to our backs and the wall ruins to our right …and looked out on to where my grandfather’s boat sat all those years ago [above]. My recollection of the scene was clearly warped by my diminutive size at the time. The stones on the beach are large pebbles, whereas I remember them as heavy boulders. Nonetheless there was something comforting about having rediscovered the location of those early happy memories.

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In a mind-bending twist; one that really took me by surprise, on what was after all a journey to somehow reach out, through the formidable barrier of death, to my long-lost family sailing heritage …we then walked south to the peninsula two hundred metres away. Not visible on any map or chart that I had seen previously, we looked back over to my grandfather’s mooring from Limekiln Point.

Kismet, karma, whatever you choose to call it, I felt that somehow I had made some sort of improbable connection with my grandfather. Sure, you could put it down to coincidence that his boat was moored just off ‘Limekiln Point’, and that we randomly stumbled upon and subsequently chose ‘Limekilns’ on the other side of the country decades later; whatever your thoughts might be, on this occasion …I allowed myself to read something more into it.

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