Of shoes and ships and sealing wax…

CHRIS BENNETT reflects on some of the ships that pass in the night; and in the day.

WELL, the quote from Lewis Carroll is a bit of a cheat, actually. Forget the shoes and the sealing wax.

One of the most pleasing pastimes on the South Coast is the delightful diversion of ship watching. The equipment for this most stimulating - for some of us, anyway - of hobbies comprises a pair of binoculars (not too expensive) and a good view of the ocean (expensive).

The shipping traffic along the coast is often quite close in. I don’t know the reason for this, although it may well be connected with the economy of the ship’s engines, but it affords an often spectacular view of the ship, and sometimes its name or registration.

Some lines, like MSC (the Mediterranean Shipping Company), Hamburg Süd and Safmarine paint their company name in huge letters along the hull of the vessel, allowing the ship watcher to identify it. In the case of Safmarine the name is writ large in a beautiful cursive script.

The favourites for our little group of watchers are the white ships. On a fine day they ride the waves in nothing short of thalassic majesty. Many years ago I was told, but I have forgotten by whom, that these ships (the Safmarine fleet) are liners that were converted to container carriers. I like the idea.

Occasionally something odd passes through the window of opportunity afforded by the splendid milkwoods around my cottage. On one occasion someone was startled by the appearance of what looked like Tower Bridge, that astonishing hydraulic road bridge across the River Thames in London, a fine Victorian achievement.

None of us knew what to make of the great contraption, not the bridge, but the thing at sea, but we all agreed it must have been some sort of rig. It was heading south, and we wondered whether it was bound for Cape Town or Mossel Bay.

But I think most of the delight in seeing these reassuring symbols of trade and, presumably, prosperity, is reserved for those sporadic visitors who have no connection with the barter of nations.

These are the private yachts.

As far as our small group of enthusiasts (all retired, obviously) could deduce there is no suitable harbour for these brave souls to head for between Durban and East London. This tells us that we are watching serious and dedicated sailors.

These little vessels, and some are not all that little, are always a joy to watch. They sail slowly, giving the watcher a chance to study their lines.

A few years ago one rather magnificent motor yacht oozed past the cottage, bristling with ariels and what appeared to be a helicopter landing platform. A day or so later I saw a stunning photograph of it tied up in Durban harbour. The name of the vessel I have forgotten, but I seem to remember it was leased to the Woods Hole Institution in Massachusetts by one of the founders of Microsoft; the ship is a specialist oceanographic research vessel. If that is the case, what an excellent thing to do with a lot of money.

But it is the little yachts that I really admire. The skill of the sailor, or sailors, is fairly evident even to an untrained eye.

And finally, not that I watch them very often, there are the splendid ski-boats that take to the sea for fishing, sometimes deep sea, sometimes fishing of a less strenuous nature. The ski-boat clubs along the South Coast are icons of our lifestyle.

Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of barley water, preferably Scottish.

CB

11/2/11