Way back at the very beginning

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Before we embarked on our journey across the North Sea over Easter 2011, a seed had been planted a long time ago. While I was a toddler in the late sixties, my grandfather was a keen boat owner. I only remember his last boat, which was a converted lifeboat. I don’t recall much more about his pride and joy, other than he carried out the conversion and maintained it himself. He was a technically gifted marine engineer.

My earliest memories consist of the noise, smell, and movement of being onboard. My grandfather kept her moored at Clynder, which is North of Rosneath on the West coast of Gare Loch in Scotland [across and up a bit from Helensburgh & Rhu].

Although I was very young, that’s where and when I learned the basics of rowing, such as turning into the wake of a passing boat. Unfortunately the vast majority of that wealth of nautical knowledge in my family has been lost, and we’re having to learn everything from scratch.

There’s a reasonable chance that our first season as boat owners is in some intangible way linked to a deep-seated desire to rediscover the cocoon-like comfort that I experienced afloat in my formative years. My grandfather died before the Berlin Wall came down, and my grandmother, uncle, and mother are also no longer with us. Perhaps it’s about trying to be closer to them, or some how carry on the family tradition …or maybe in some small way, I want to make them proud of me posthumously.

Whatever the reason, I hope that we’re giving our children …the next generation, memories that they can take with them, and cherish for the rest of their days.