Logs and Shanties

1992 was a good year to be on Harriers. I trust you agree! Next year will have some inevitable changes: because of an increase in Norfolk school's courses, fewer boats will be available from Hunter's Yard, and so we are unable to repeat the pattern of the two cruises on the same week.

For the week July 31 - Aug 7 we can get one "Wood" boat and 3 Hustlers from the County Base for B Cruise and we will also have 3 yachts from Whelptons. For the next week Aug 7 - 14, for A Cruise we will have the whole fleet coming from Whelptons at Upton.

As the two cruises are once again at different times we will revert to the age ranges we used to have: A Cruise 14 - 16,; B Cruise 15 - 18. Remember you are our best recruiters: recommend us to your friends!

Because of the pressure of their work, Andy and Pippa are standing down from the official leadership of A Cruise but I hope they will still have their part to play! Their input over the last three years has been very valuable and I at least have appreciated it.

Linda is taking a year off from being "Commyette" due to maternity leave (called long term planning for the future of Harriers!).

Harriers in new places this year:

Gareth Robinson: studying at Sheffield University.
Katy Thompson: taking a year out with the Oasis Trust, doing evangelistic work with a team in Hartlepool.
Vicky Mealing: taking a year out with Christian Care Force who have placed her at Himwick Hall which is a Shaftesbury Society's F.E. establishment for handicapped people.
James Morris: taking a year out, hoping to go to Lebanon for 6 months in January to do some teaching.
(If you know about anyone else, let us know.)

The year '92 seems to have been special in the past:

"In Fourteen Hundred and Ninety Two,
Columbus sailed the ocean blue"

...and discovered America.

In 1792 William Carey published his famous book "An Enquiry" (into whether the Commission given by our Lord t His disciples was not still binding on us, "Go into all the world and preach the gospel to every creature"). He persuaded a group of fellow ministers to share his vision and enthusiasm. There were just 12 at the meeting, they pledged an offering of just over 13. With this they founded the Baptist Missionary Society and William Carey sailed for India the following year. He put more than his money where his mouth was, he put his life. He proclaimed,

"Expect great things from God,
Attempt great things for God."

...and proved it.

Sometimes we say, "what good is my trying to do anything, I can't change the world or the attitudes around me." That could be true if it is only ME trying, but if God is working through you, then things happen, so don't be discouraged. Carey had tried to raise the enthusiasm of his fellow ministers a few years earlier and got this response, "Sit down young man, when God wants to convert the heathen He will do it without your help or mine."

If God wants you to do something (or be someone) to change the world around, then He will be the encouragement you need and nothing else can stop it happening. Who knows what YOU can do/start/be? Before Carey there were no Missionary societies in this country. He was followed by other missionaries and many other missionary societies.

We believe in Carol's sailing,
She's our skip - we can't go wrong,
And in cups of tea to calm her
When she finds the wind too strong,
We believe she is an expert,
She will teach us how to sail,
When she sees Brown Bess approaching
She will scream and turn quite pale.

Chorus:
We sail into banks, into lee-banks,
We sail into zits, zits and cruisers,
We sail head to wind, we go nowhere,
We jump into reeds with a splash,
We are the Harriers, we are the Harriers.

Skip believes her crew are useless
Always leaving quants behind.
We are good at baiting cruisers,
Trap the biggest we can find.
She believes we are too lazy
All we want to have is fun,
We are just as skilled as Commy,
Tack when we are on a run.

We remember Joy's plum crumble,
She took all the plum stones out,
Just so we could not spit them
O'er the boom as Harriers ought.
We remember Carl's fine quanting,
Toiled along mile after mile,
Grabbed the quant as it went under
Plunged into the depths in style.

We have faith in Andrew's tacking - NOT
First he cries "ready about",
We go about and then we gybe,
And then "we're head to wind" we shout.
Rachel has a balance problem,
When ashore she always floats,
And in spite of Commy's orders
She walks off the side of boats.

You do the cruiser bait. You do the cruiser bait.

You push the grey skies outta the day,
You teach me how to sail in the Harriers way.
You make me eat raw toast with my meals,
Then you help me sail straight into the reeds.
Cos you're my Commy, you can sail
And if not you show me how to bail,
You sail the Spindrift clean and bright,
And in a force 6 you still seem to stay upright.

Wake me up with a loud horn
Every morning when the sun is rising,
Wake me up with a loud horn
Don't want to miss it when you hit that honk.
Wake me up with a loud horn
So that we can get on and start sailing,
Wake me up with a loud horn,
Don't want to miss it when you hit that honk,
I wanna hear that horn, yeh yeh yeh yeh.

You choose a week when the weather's just right
When there is no wind and the sun shines bright,
We have to quant across every Broad
Cos the wind dies down and we sit so bored.
Now we're on Harriers we can tack,
The skipper sails and the crew lie back,
We always set sail on the lee,
And on each Thursday we have our mince for tea.

Breakfast included a new experience in egg-eating, boiled egg on raw toast. Unfortunately I didn't realise that the egg was meant to be squashed before eaten, but it just about fitted in.

Our inspection mark was exceedingly bad - we came level with another boat on six, but then Commy had a generosity attack and gave us four more.

After a wonderful sail on Horsey we approached Meadow Dyke with just one intention, to tack all the way. We made great progress, but alas, after 2 tacks we decided to tow, simply because Helen was happily moored blocking 3/4 of the dyke. I heard the command of my skipper... "Jump!" and in true Harriers style, and in accordance with the rules mentioned on Saturday night, I ... didn't. After a few more shouts and screams and running into the bank, and comforting remarks from Helen on how solid the bank was, I did a flying leap into... the water.

The journey was uneventful and most tiring for the two hefty lads pulling the boat along the dyke. All went well until we got to a very picturesque clump of trees. Necessity called and we designed a new way of getting along: reeding. There are two ways of doing this fine and hard-to-perfect art, one is the way the strong and hardy Harriers perform: pulling along the reeds and propelling ourselves in a forward direction. The other way is for wimps and un-Harrier worthy crews, perfected by Hustler 3... it is done by reading a good book until a gentlemanly cruiser with nothing better to do comes and offers you a lift... maybe the second way is better.

After lunch, our skipper announced with surprising glee in his voice that he was leaving his crew for another boat, Spindrift (if it can be called a boat) and we were left with the gallant Commy-ette, Linda. We left for Potter and with much skill and determination we managed to walk our boat past Hustler 3 as it tacked in a mainly backward direction.

After telling one of the cruisers that they weren't allowed to park at Potter, we promptly moored there ourselves. Funny how Commyettes can bend the rules if they want to...

It was a bad day, need I say more! Skipper was adamant we were going to tack down Meadow Dyke, failing that we went for plan B, tow. Unfortunately the tow path didn't exist, so gallantly Dave and Daniel marched through the nettles, making room for others to follow. Danny, leading the way, suddenly disappeared from view. All we could see were two feet floundering in the water and a cry of "Oh bilge rats!" This gave light entertainment to the crew, and then Dave laughing, closely followed suit. Slip up numero uno!

Rachel then decided to take over from Daniel. Things were going smoothly and it was getting rather boring so Danny decided to liven things up. Now Daniel is well known for his ability in rope throwing, it always seems that his wrist is attached to his body and so the rope is unable to travel long distances. He was commandered by Dave to throw the rope. Of course it missed the bank but still skipper heroically leapt for the rope, missing it completely and submerged himself in the murky depths of Meadow Dyke. The crew looked at each other, laughed, and then decided to rescue our skipper as he gurgled to the surface.

To make our adventure slightly different we decided to drift away from Dave and Rachel just so we could admire the nature on the opposite bank. At the same time we boarded a moored boat, whilst the owner shouted "Pirates dear!" and we brandished our quant-pole. Finally Dave decided to board the boat. Unfortunately we were 10 feet away at the time, so for the third time we saw our skipper disappear into the broad water and clamber aboard without any help from the crew.

I woke in the morning b'fore the day had begun,
'Cos the Commy was shouting
"It is time to have some fun!"
I crawled out my sleeping bag and bumped my head,
So I turned straight round and went back to bed.

Chorus:
Sail then wherever you maybe,
"For I am the Commy of the cruise" said he,
"And I'm watching you, wherever you maybe,
"And I'll have no slacking on this cruise" said he.

We sailed up to Horsey where the wind did blow,
We gybed around and tossed to and fro.
We thought we'd moor up till the storm had gone,
Then we heard Commy calling so we sailed right on.

We sailed off to Barton when the wind was slack,
It's hard to sail with no breeze to help you tack,
We bribed a passing cruiser man to give us a tow,
Then Commy appeared and we cried "Oh no!"

As the rain came down skipper gave a cry,
For the helmsman had vanished in the cabin to keep dry,
He emerged again with his waterproofs on,
He turned to the skipper and asked "what's wrong?"

We woke up exceptionally early for Spindrift, Clare having been told to do Quiet Time, efficiently set her alarm for 6:30. Fortunately she warned us beforehand, but for poor Commy it was very unexpected and as the alarm set off, the only thing we could hear was Commy greeting the well falling off his bunk, closely followed by Mike.

Early morning was painful and I was threatened with having a close inspection of the tow path, precariously clothed in a 3-season sleeping bag, as the time approached 7:32 am.

The crew was later added to by another 1+1/2 Chalkes, eventually, after Paula spent 1/2 hour finding a car park, but we forgave her as we polished off the freshly baked doughnuts.

We travelled aimlessly up and down Barton Broad and the 1/2 a Chalke seemed to dislike heeling at a 45 degree angle, which was a bit unfortunate as that was all we seemed to do.

Chalke junior was complaining again so we headed for the Ant. Then the race was on. It became the Harriers grand prix. The competitors were Hustler 3, Wood Anemone, Wood Sorrel, Wood Avens and Woodcut. The "skipper" of Woodcut cheatedly pulled along our boat giving him good speed and slowed us to a crawl. So much for a Christian cruise! Then we shot past the whole lot of them, just to get stopped by a few cruisers and zits. The more manouverable Woodcut then came past us again to leave us in a respectable second place. We moored, and about an hour later, the last of the grand prix yachts arrived, Hustler 3, with the skipper wanting ideas on how not to come on Harriers next year, and hearing how Paula is living this week, decided to get pregnant. The thing is, it was Mark, and according to all evidence, he's male. Better luck next time, Mark.

1) Where hast tha been since I saw thee? (I saw thee)
On Norfolk Broads bar tat. (x3)

CHORUS: On Norfolk Broads bar tat (repeat twice)
Where the ducks eat custard...

2) Tha's left tha jacket on the bank (on the bank) ...
CHORUS: ...where we sail through cruisers

3) Tha's gonna fall off yacht and drown (yacht and drown) ...
CHORUS: ...where the quants go floating

4) Tha'll be submerged in yonder mud (yonder mud) ...
CHORUS: ...where we stick on mudbanks

5) We'll come a'quanting down yon beck (down yon beck) ...
CHORUS: ...where the cakes are mouldy

6) Quant poles'll stick into thy brain (to thy brain) ...
CHORUS: ...where the stoves explode

7) Then we'll all have mushed thee up (mushed thee up)...

Tuesday: Greeted the dawn. Considered shaving, but instead merely adjusted the portable mosquito filter. Had a mutinous quiet time considering yesterday:

1. Discussed death
2. made to sail open boat in violent storm
3. made to eat cake with mould on it

Can the Commodore make life any worse today?

Yes! Commodore issues purple leaflet (The Chocolate Teapot), felt question 3 directly aimed at self. Helena read it to crew with great glee:

"The dinner lady under-charges you for a meal. Do you: ... c) Grow a beard and pretend to be Jeremy Beadle?"

Never have I pretended to be a german poodle!

Thursday: Yesterday persecution by the Commodore took a more malicious turn. At 6:30 the Commodore fell out of bed and began to belabour the innocent supernumerate skipper asleep in the well. He claimed he was trying to turn off the alarm clock. I ask you, do I look like an alarm clock? Spent the time to Reveille nursing injured pride and repairing mosquito filter damaged in fracas.

In the morning I was inflicted on Wood Rose. It is not clear who is being punished or for what. Such are the whims of the Commodore. Spent the morning teaching Karl to quant. He did not fall in, I must be losing my touch with the boom. Joined the invasion of Irstead Church. We did not stay long as most of the people there were dead. After lunch joined Spindrift and watched Helen trying to sink my beloved Woodcut 2. That girl is another subversive.

It's late in the evening,
I'm wondering which fly spray to wear,
I put on some sun-screen,
Remove all the bugs from my hair,
And when she asks me,
"Did you sleep all right?"
I say "No, I was bitten to death last night."

We go onto Spindrift,
And everyone turns to see this beautiful sunburn
That I have covering me.
And then I ask her,
"Do I look all right?"
She says "No, you look like a tomato tonight."

It's time to moor up now
And I've got an aching head
I don't empty the bilges
'Cos they all drain in my bed.
And then she asks me
"Will you sleep all right?"
I say "No, 'cos I finished the beans up tonight."

There's one more skipper in Heaven
There's one more quant in the mud,
Helen we tried to retrieve you
But the boom came across with a thud.
There's one less mug by the teapot
There's no more socks getting dry,
But Helen the things that you taught us
Like towing and quanting don't die.

When I think of her last great battle
A smile comes to my face,
It takes a skipper without fear
To quant at such a great pace.
Her soggy jeans are a tribute to
Her final sacrifice
The helmsman simply swerved too late
Now her soul's in paradise.

There's one more skipper in Heaven,
There's far more food on the boat,
It's a shame you let go of the quantpole
'Cause unlike you it floats.
There's one less boat on the lee-bank,
There's no more study of reeds,
But Helen the things that you taught us
Send the cruisers into the trees.

I hadn't realised until now that my crew were blessed with the gift of prophecy! I was getting increasingly worried as Sally, Anna and Andrew spent some hour or two composing a song about how I fell in and drowned whilst quanting. Their only problem was I hadn't actually done so! Yet! The rest of the day was spent trying hard to ensure that I did!

I was so concerned about my rebellious crew that I enlisted the help of Mike, the Victorian skipper. At least this way I thought, my crew's prophecy wouldn't be fulfilled - surely a fellow skipper would protect me? Not a bit of it! Leaving Mike in control I settled down to relax on the side deck. Why do my crew insist on tickling me? As I slid helplessly off the deck, my plaintive cries for help to my co-skipper fell on deaf ears - perhaps I shouldn't have chosen the Victorian skipper after all! I clambered back on board, and the smiles on my crew's faces said it all, their prophecy was fulfilled and they were happy.

Commy you've got to let me know,
Should I quant or should I row?
If we moor up before it's nine,
We'll make you cocoa all the time.
So come on and let me know,
Should I quant or should I row?

CHORUS:
Should I quant or should I row now?
Should I quant or should I row now?
If I quant there will be trouble,
If I row there will be double.
So come on and let me know,
Should I quant or should I row?

It's always reeds, reeds, reeds.
If we're not tangled in the trees,
One day it's fine and then it's black,
And I can't find my pac-a-mac.
So come on and let me know,
Should I quant or should I row?

This indecisions bugging me,
Exactly where are we s'posed to be?
If we're to get our mince for tea,
We'd better avoid Hustler 3.
So come on and let me know,
Should I quant or should I row?

There's nothing left, there's nothing right
We've seen no boats since early last night,
We're feeling forlorn
'Cos we've been stuck here since dawn,
We ain't complaining.

We've got no skip, we've got no mate,
We went without them 'cos they were late,
Now they must be bored,
They're waiting where we last moored,
Bet they're complaining.

It ain't no use trying to push us loose,
'Cos everytime we try we fail,
Then someone said the words that we dread,
"Should that large hole really be there?"

So when the chips are down, we're all gonna drown,
A crew can only take so much fooling around
And if we don't get home tonight
We'll be complaining.

Since today has been so interesting, with so MANY incidents worthy of being included in a log, I decided to only talk about the highlight of my day: my choc ice. It was in fact a "Fruit and nut dream with real Cadbury's milk chocolate". Hmm I thought to myself, looks tasty, and indeed it was. With my first mouthful I broke through the outer chocolate coating to reveal the chocolate ice cream centre. Confirmation was received that it did indeed contain fruit after a clump of raisins was seen. A few more mouthfuls indicated that the distribution of raisins in the bar was roughly uniform, with an average clump containing about five. However there was something niggling at the back of my mind. What could it be? Click... no nuts... remember label? Was Walls conning me? No, soon found one inside coating, small, but still there. I finished the bar encountering no more.

Quiet time took a different tack this morning, as we discussed the sanity of the writers of Bible reading notes, especially "Alive to God."

The morning was tediously continuing until we reached the private part of South Walsham broad. The wind was superb and Woodcut 2 found an excellent way of keeling even while running. They simply got the hefty Joy to check the safety of the shrouds, by using all four limbs, her back and her hair, with only her face staying near dry. We also saw the culprit of this astounding keeling, the ever so un-naughty Commy-ette Linda! My view of her changed somewhat in a 180 degree turn! Then we saw Joy transfer herself from the now exceedingly wet half decker to her supply of warm, dry clothes - whatever happened to the 50 yard rule?

7am, a quick blast on the commodorial hooter reminds me to get up and dash to the skippers meeting. After this I decided to create order out of the chaos on Hustler 3. I failed. As I stepped into the boat I sent the cutlery draw crashing into the wall. Decided to redefine my aims to a more achievable goal, I would have a wash. While I was performing this complex task, my crew gathered gleefully in the cabin. They were making such a din I couldn't hear what Trevor was shouting. As Peter walked over to my boat he said "Call him on your telephone." I keep this instrument for emergencies.

"Squid face calling Action man, come in Action man." There was no response. I called again. Then he replied. The reception was amazing. It was as if Trevor was moored alongside. In fact he was! What was the urgent message? "Send someone over for your spare sausages. Over and out."

We are very privileged on our boat to have half-decker Andy join us for Quiet times. We now know why his cranium is bigger than ours. He said, "It goes in one brain and out the other."

This log is based on the male members of the crew and their numerous eccentricities:

Morris, James, is a solitary figure, all alone with his bubble gum, he is normally ultra quiet too. This does in fact work to his advantage, after meal times is usually when his ability to stealthily disappear pays off. His periods of silent reflection obviously point to a profound thinker, but as yet, nobody knows exactly what he thinks about. James is also a bit of a manic depressive, therefore it is no surprise that he was quite upset when we rushed our Quiet time this morning, he finds Ecclesiasties positively uplifting.

Skipper Mark, also known as Mark the skiver for his disappearing act to skippers' meeting as soon as the kettle begins to boil for washing up. He has also been dubbed the "Panic Master" by James. Yes, Carol's flapping is not a patch on our skipper's. Barton Broad is a classic example of this. Whilst the marker post was still at least 5 boat lengths away, Mark shouted "Ready about" in his extra loud skipper's voice in the hope that the poor person at the tiller would either jump with fright and accidentally shove the tiller away, or simply take the hint. However even ignoring the hint won't save you, I suddenly discovered that the tiller seemed to have a mind of its own as it began to move from beneath my hand. Was it divine intervention, a strange natural phenomenon? No it was only the skipper panicking again.

Mitchell, Andy, commonly known as "Andy, that Northerner". He is your typical northerner, loud, uncouth and the owner of a darker version of the Gazza style haircut. You'll know him when you hear him, he's the one with the PhD in the art of sarcasm. Andy can also cook extremely well when he tries, and is very concerned for our health, insisting that I should eat the eggshell in the scrambled egg that he had just cooked as it was a good source of calcium. Personally I'd rather take my chances with the milk.

The words of the Commodore, "Meaningless! Meaningless!" says the Commy. "Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless!"

What does man/woman gain from all his labour at which he toils under the sun? Cruises come and cruises go, but the Broads remain the same. The water rises and the water ebbs, and hurries back to where it rises. In the morning, the wind blows south and in the afternoon north, round and round it goes, never letting us keep our course.

All food goes to the crew, yet the crew is never full. To the place where hunger comes, there they return again. All things are wearisome, especially quanting. The wind never seems to be strong enough or the river wide enough.

Where you have been, you will return again, where you have been stuck, so you will get stuck again; there are no new accidents on the Broads. No-one can say, "Look! This has never been done before." It has already been done, long ago, even before the Harriers cruise. There is no rememberance of accidents of old, and even those accidents which are yet to happen will not be remembered for long by future cruises.

I, the Commodore, led the Harriers cruise on the Norfolk Broads. I devoted myself to sailing and discovering the depth of Blackhorse Broad. What a heavy burden of responsibility was laid upon me.

I have seen all the attempts to avoid accidents on the Broads, all of them are useless, a chasing after the impossible. What is twisted cannot be straightened; what is lost overboard cannot be retrieved.

I thought to myself, "Look, I have grown and increased in my sailing skill more than anyone who has been a Commodore on the Broads before me; I have experienced many accidents and near misses." Then I applied myself to the understanding of sailing techniques, and also of cruiser baiting and bridge shooting, but I learned that this too, is a chasing after the wind. For with a larger boat comes much momentum; the more the momentum, the more the damage and grief.

Wood Avens

Trevor Chalk
Esther Grinstead
Gareth Robinson
Eleanor Ferryhough
Celia Evenson

Wood Anemone

Rosemary Lawless
Alex Mealing
Matthew Grist
Brian Leitch
Isabelle Terras

Wood Violet

Dave Green
Clare Allen
Katy Thomson
Daniel Sayer
Rachel Koseicha

Wood Rose

Carol Pratt
Joy Carr
Rachel Morrel
Andrew Thomson
Karl Brock

Wood Sorrel

Helen Pratt
Anna Tolley
Sally Higginbottom
David Spark
Andrew Sellick

Hustler 3

Mark Adams
James Morris
Sarah Purdue
Helena Luckhurst

Woodcut 1

David Matthews
Peter Matthews

Woodcut 2

Andy Mitchell
Mike Gill

Spindrift

Linda Paterson
Brian Pratt