The Call of the Sea

The Fishing Beach at Hastings, Sussex, 1920s?.

As a young lad, I lived in the old town of Hastings, in Sussex, England, with a fine view of the beach where the clinker-built wooden fishing boats hauled out, with their beautifully crafted elliptic sterns, specially designed to give buoyancy when they were pushed backwards into the sea. The beach had a bit of shelter from the prevailing south-west wind blowing up-Channel, in the form of a broken-down harbour arm,- it was straightforward enough to launch and recover the boats when the tide reached the steep shingle part of it, but not easy if it was only on the lower, flat, sandy part. Although the close-knit fishing community tended to keep to themselves, I was welcome enough to take an interest when they were landing and gutting fish, or mending their nets, or indeed making whole trawl-nets, as some old guys would spend long hours doing.

There was big excitement when the boom of maroons summoned the crew for a launch of the lifeboat, and not just the crew, but anyone who was free to help with the launch, because all available manpower was needed to help haul the boat across the beach, by means of long, thick ropes attached on either side. She slid on greased railway sleepers across the flat in front of her shed, was poised at the top of the steep part with sleepers laid in front of her, and with engine running, props turning and crew attached in their positions, was heaved with a mighty ‘all together, heave’ into the surf, and so hopefully through it.

Only on one occasion, the tide was too low and she didn’t make it; and what’s more, we could see the broken-down casualty dragging her anchor towards the rocks half a mile away. The lifeboat broached in the breakers, and the men were reduced to heaving and shoving up to their necks in the water. Some of them rushed off and launched a fishing-boat, which fortunately succeeded in effecting the rescue, just in time. I was about ten at the time, and my first account of this story was one of my very first bits of writing, and is somewhere in the annals of the ‘Worth Diary’.

Looking back today, it clearly belongs to a bygone era. There are not the same tight-knit communities, there are no maroons, no people rushing to the beach, no heaving on ropes, and most importantly, none of that spontaneous action based on clear perception of the situation  and listening to those voices who spoke with the authority that comes from being recognised as knowing what one is talking about. The ropes and the manpower have long been replaced by an elaborate tractor and trailer set-up, that is able to go into the surf, but costing a great deal of money, and that's not to mention helicopters. 'The public' is simply asked to keep out of the way, and preferably put some cash into the collection box. We generally have to turn to sport for the thrill of being caught up in communal effort, and it really isn't the same as real action.

At least the R.N.L.I. is a charity depending on voluntary contributions and community effort. In Ireland even the local rescue outfits have devolved into dependence on the Government, although the same Government has failed to get its act together with regard to the sea, in very many ways. I’m not going to try cataloguing these failures now, but anyone who is familiar with any aspect of the marine scene here will know what I am talking about. It is fragmented into little fiefdoms run mostly by civil servants with little knowledge of the sea, and even less real experience of it. I do not wish to decry the benefits of technology, nor do I necessarily decry the opening-up of old communities,- but some vital elements of them are in danger of disappearing into the past, so we need to figure out how to give them a new lease of life.

In some Irish coastal communities, notably in my experience in Donegal, there is a visceral interest in the sea, but all too often it is left to a very small minority. The cultural and political reasons for this are no doubt complex and diverse; suffice to say that the situation here contrasts starkly with that, for instance, in Brittany and the north of Spain. What is for sure is that it is high time we changed it. Would not many of us prefer an economy which is less dependent on big tech and pharma, and more geared to our marine resources? But what are the deep-seated cultural issues that need to be addressed for us to do so?

Sitting here in Co.Clare on a winter’s morning of driving wind and rain, it is not hard to conclude that, for one thing, the climate is against it. However here am I, just back from a fortnight of pleasant weather in Nazaré, Portugal, working on the Anna M. It really isn’t a big deal getting back and forth, especially in winter, provided one is not unlucky with the weather. Bilbao to Rosslare on Brittany Ferries’ Galicia, car and cabin, cost €273, and of course flying is a lot cheaper. Instead of getting excited and resentful of all the fish they get from Irish waters, which won’t get us anywhere, it is more fruitful to concentrate on building community with our Atlantic neighbours. It is interesting to note Irish skippers buying into the French industry,- boats, quota and all. It may be good for the conflicts concerning nationality to become irrelevent, but it will still be necessary to stand up for local communities and artisanal fisheries.

No doubt they have their struggles with remote power structures on the Continent too. Until very recently, it seemed we were all irrevocably stuck with shadowy powers who were able to manipulate our information and to make puppets of our local politicians, judging above all by the way they handled covid; however, perhaps they over-reached there, and so now at last there may be a change in direction.  It is represented primarily, and amazingly, by the Trumpistas,- though one might ask, what’s to stop them becoming perhaps just more overtly over-bearing? It has been strange and very interesting to watch how the ‘right wing’ in America has transmogrified into the more convincing representative of ‘the people’, while the ‘left’ has largely become the plaything of an obscure power elite. 

In the present crisis in France, is it possible that ‘the left’ and ‘the right’ will manage to coalesce into a coherent popular movement? It would be very sweet, in France of all places, to see that sterile old narrative, beloved of academics and journalists, which opposes ‘progress’ and ‘tradition’, ‘left’ and ‘right’, collapse so dramatically! Not that achieving the right blend of personal and social, and of local and universal responsibility isn’t always a problem and a challenge, as I suppose it will always be until the end of time. To my mind, 'globalists' need to be converted into 'catholics'. It is a problem that God alone can fully resolve,- and for myself, I cannot envisage any path to being fully myself, as an individual, and at the same time a fully paid-up member of humanity, but in the love of Jesus.

    Meanwhile, Anna M continues to progress towards action again next year. I intend to sail her home to the Shannon Estuary in the spring, electric drive or not. We shall fit something here if necessary. At least she is now wired, with lights, fridge, pumps, electronics all powered off three solar panels, thanks to a great fortnight’s work by John O’Mahony, who drove down with me and lived aboard,- and got interested in the electric drive idea. Exactly how it will all work out remains to be seen; this is a work in hand, - but I am calling a meeting, provisionally on Wednesday 15th January, in Kilkee and online, to see what we might make of the Gannetsway Sailing Association, to whose members it is intended to offer dolphin-watching under sail and electric drive in the Shannon estuary and beyond,- next summer.

Please send an email to gannetsway@gmail.com if you wish to be kept informed.