For every historic ship that still exists, there is
a story that goes beyond its sailing life. Romance, pluck and perseverence are
not soley cofined to the working lives of such vessels: often it is the efforts
of a dedicated few that save them from desecration. From New Zealand's collection
of historic ships that have lived to see another day, we profile four.
The
interior of the Edwin Fox. Photo: Photo New Zealand
/ Mike Langford
After a lifetime of hard
work: travelling the high seas, surviving storms, collisions and groundings that
saw the loss of lives, the Edwin Fox was ignominiously dumped.
So much for her 32 years of international service; the 909-tonne teak sailing
ship was declared obsolete and tied up and left for dead at Picton Wharf. It was
1900.The age of steam had supplanted the need for sailing ships. The best that
the Edwin Fox - former carrier of convicts, cargo, immigrants and troops
across the world - could do was serve as a landing platform and coal hulk
As time would tell, it was the best possible outcome.
"This
was her luckiest escape," says John Sullivan, shipmaster of the Edwin
Fox. The ship now sits in a purpose-built enclosed dry dock in Picton. It
has undergone a painstaking preservation process, costing more than a million
dollars, and is recognised by the Historic Places Trust as a Category I historic
site. It is regarded as the ninth-oldest identified ship in the world, and is
said to be the only one of some 4000 merchant ships built in India that still
exist today.
Things would never have worked out that way had the ship
stayed in the Northern Hemisphere, says Sullivan."If she was in a major port,
she would have been bombed, bulldozed or burned. Instead, she sat, forgotten,
on the other side of the world."
And, while serving out her mouldering
retirement far from her Calcutta birthplace, perhaps the grand old dame of the
sea would have had time to reflect on some of her working achievements. Built
by hand in 1853, she was out of date before she even set sail, due to the old
design features employed. These can still be seen on the ship in her permanent
resting place, adjacent to the Picton Interisland Ferry Terminal.
On
her first immigrant voyage from England to New Zealand in 1873, the Edwin Fox
hit a particularly bad storm outside the Bay of Biscay. The 15-metre seas
took three days to abate. The ship lost not just its mast, but some crew too.
Among the dead was the ship's doctor, impaled by a metal rod. And, when the storm
subsided, scarlet fever struck, killing four more. Consider this extract from
a letter describing conditions on the ship: "A hundred and twenty-two days
of misery, anxiety, discomfort and semi-starvation. I hope never again to fall
to the lot of an unfortunate emigrant in a slow but sure emigrant ship.
"The Edwin Fox would make three more such journeys in its sailing
life. She would also carry cargo between England and the East, convicts to Fremantle
and troops to the Crimean War. While most ships of her kind lasted five years,
the Edwin Fox served 32.
"She is a remarkable ship," says
Sullivan, who used to fish off her when he was a child, and who has been involved
with the Edwin Fox Preservation Society since it was re-formed in 1982.
The
path to preservation has taken some time. Bought by the first restoration society
in 1964 for a shilling, the Edwin Fox was towed to Shakespeare Bay in Queen
Charlotte Sound two years later, where it lingered after the society went into
recess. Salvation next came knocking when the Edwin FoxSociety was formed
in 1982. In 1986, the ship was refloated and brought to the Picton Terminal, where
it underwent a full archaeological survey. It was found to be 74 per cent original,
with 15 per cent of its decks or beams missing. This was the legacy of lying on
the beach at Shakespeare Bay, where visitors had stripped it for firewood, and
souvenir hunters helped themselves to anything portable. "We were advised
it was better to preserve it rather than restore it," says Sullivan.
And that's just what the society has done, aided by a team of volunteers
and the liberal use of a chemical called Eusan to halt the deterioration of the
ship's timbers.
The project is on-going. A roof covers the ship and a
museum sits next to it. It's open to the public all year around, except for Christmas
Day and Good Friday - and all sorts of people from all around the world come to
visit."I'm bloody sure I had Robert Redford visit 15 years ago, and Burt
Reynolds has been too," says Sullivan.
After not falling to the
same fate as all others who sailed before her, the Edwin Fox marked its
150th anniversary two years ago. Every preservation effort has been worth it,
enthuses Sullivan. "We've got a ship with all this history. As an artefact,
it's really unique."
He gets his greatest pride comes "when
you look out at the ship on a wild wet day and know you're partly responsible
for her being in a dry dock - rather than rotting on a beach".
A
handbook, Edwin Fox, Hard-worn Heritage, published to mark its 150th anniversary,
spells out the society's intent. "The Edwin Fox Society is dedicated to the
task of preserving the ship in such a manner as to ensure that it is available
to generations to come as a memorial - not only to those who served in her but
also to those brave immigrants who risked their very lives to seek a better environment
for themselves and their families in another country half way around the world."
All
who board the R. Tucker Thompson must adopt the language of shipping days
of yore. It's one of the many traditions that owner/operator Russell Harris observes
when he takes passengers out on the tall ship. Some of the habits follow him to
shore. "Stand by," he advises when he has to interrupt this telephone
interview briefly.
The
R Tucker Thompson at sea. Photo: Courtesy of
R. Tucker Thompson
The R. Tucker Thompson
is a fastidious heritage link to the sailing days of the past. Although built
only 25 years ago, it is recognised as a fine example of a 19th-century small
sailing ship. And, because of its youth, it still works for its living. The gaff
rigged, square tops'l schooner takes Bay of Islands-based day sailing trips in
summer, while in winter it provides sailing training for disadvantaged youth.
The plucky little R. Tucker Thompson has sailed the high seas too: its
first journey was from England to Australia to mark the Australian bicentennial
first fleet re-enactment. It was part of the Mururoa protest fleet of 1985,
and has seen much of the rest of the world as well.
All this from a boat
that hardly got beyond being a keel.The story of the R. Tucker Thompson
begins, and almost ends, with the migration of the Thompson family from California
to Northland in the 1970s. After building a home, R. Tucker Thompson decided to
build the "perfect little schooner" - one based on the Halibut schooners
of the north-west American coast, says Harris.
But, shortly after the keel
was laid at the Thompson family home in Whangarei Heads, R. Tucker died. "There
it [the keel] sat in the back yard growing grass for four years," Harris
explains.
The ship has a hull of steel, "veneered" with planking
that makes it very strong and dry below.
But an approach to Harris by
R. Tucker Thompson's son, 19-year-old Todd Thompson, saw the bare bones of the
ship shifted to Harris's back yard in Mangawhai Heads in 1982. And that's
when the dream started being realised.
With Todd's encouragement and
Harris's experience (he knew how to build and he'd worked on the Bounty replica),
the pair set to work.
"We were full of high ideals and limited money,"
says Harris. Their meticulous attention to detail and observance of past traditions
can be seen in the finished product. It's built with demolition wood - much of
it from Auckland buildings that were demolished in the early 1980s. Her rig is
of varnished Oregon spars.
The deck is sealed with pitch tar, and there's
an acre of brass on board. The completed effort eventually cost some $250,000:
money obtained - and repaid - through a loan from the Development Finance Corporation,
which also did not survive the '80s.
The financial cost did not include
the blood, sweat and tears, says Harris. But the creation "is the aftertaste
of that maritime era before steam came along and demolished it. We've kept the
traditions of these ships alive."
Much of the work is thanks to
the tireless efforts of a group of volunteers, many of whom initially knew nothing
about building or sailing but became charmed by the venture.
Further
links have been discovered since the ship's completion in 1985. She is now said
to be of essentially the same configuration and design as a tall ship used by
Bishop Pompallier in the 1840s, while travelling around New Zealand and in Wallis
and Futuna. Pompallier's craft - another gaff-rigged square tops'l schooner, called
the Sancta Maria - proved too costly to maintain and only served for a few years
before being sent to Chile for sale.
To board the R. Tucker Thompson
is to be taken back immediately in time, says Harris, who describes it as
his "living, breathing, sleeping dream." The ship celebrated its 25th
anniversary in the Bay of Islands in October. Todd Thompson is no longer involved
with the venture, but another generation of Harris children is now involved with
her too: daughter Melanie became a skipper and sailed round the world on the ship;
son Evan is a Master.
The story of the TSS Earnslaw could so easily
have been one that ended with heron the scrapheap. Instead, the steel-hulled,
twin-screw steamer still sails the waters of the Waikatipu River, is a designated
Historic Place under theNew Zealand Historic Places Act, and will celebrate its
100th anniversary in 2012.
TSS
Earmslaw on Lake Wakatipu. Photo: Photo New Zealand
/ M Ross
Known locally as "The Grand Lady
of the Lakes," the Earnslaw's life came close to being cut short when
she passed out of state ownership in 1968. But, thanks to the vision and perseverance
of two men, Les Hutchins and Adam Love, she was saved from consignment to a watery
grave, says Queenstown historian Neil Clayton.
An expert on local lake
steamers and railways, Clayton explains that the Earnslaw was originally
built by the Government, partly because of dissatisfaction with the private enterprise
operations running steamers on Lake Wakatipu in the early 1900s.
But,
in the end, it was private enterprise that saved her, when New Zealand Railways
decided to rid itself of the steamship. Named after Mt Earnslaw, a peak at
the head of Lake Wakatipu, the Earnslaw was meant to be the answer to the
problems presented by the three privately run steamers before her.
The
new harbour steam ferry started her life in Dunedin, where she was built, before
being dismantled and taken by rail across country to Kingston, where she was meticulously
reconstructed before embarking on her first voyage.
Every quarter-inch
steel hull plate of the 48-metre-long vessel had to be numbered for this painstaking
purpose.
After her maiden voyage from Kingston to Queenstown in October
1912, the Earnslaw enjoyed a relatively calm life, serving largely as a
sheep, cattle and passenger carrier - until progress got in her way.By the early
1960s, roading had supplanted the need for most of its services, with first the
Kingston-Queenstown link being built and then the Glenorchy-Queenstown connection.
By the end of that decade, the steamer serviced only sheep stations on the
western side of the lake,and the passenger service had almost disappeared, says
Neil Clayton.
Enter, then, Stan Shearer, charge officer of the steamer
service. "He realised the nature of the service had to change, and he started
running a passenger service." The steamer started to operate short lake services
and made links with some sheep stations.
"It changed from being
cargo-based 365 days of the year to tourism."
New Zealand Railways
gave up ownership in 1968; in 1970 Fiordland Travel - under Les Hutchins - took
it over. "His vision, to link the Earnslaw into a wider series of
passenger and scenic services was very successful, and it still is," says
Neil Clayton.
Pivotal to the continued success of the steamship was the
role played by Adam Love, an ex-Royal Navy engineer who came to New Zealand as
a marine surveyor.
When he set sight on the Earnslaw, he was
so entranced, he chose to work on it during his holidays. It was Love who set
up a survey and maintenance programme that ensured it kept running and which he
continues to do to this day.
He’s one of the many who has vowed
to be at the centenary celebrations.
There is, says Neil Clayton, a certain
ambience to the running of a steamship that makes people want to come and watch
it. “A steamship is almost a living thing.”
He is certain such
delights could no longer be enjoyed if it weren’t for the likes of Les Hutchins.
“It was his vision and perseverance that meant it continued to
run, and run successfully,” he says.
Just like the other ships that
remain to tell us so much about our vanished past, the Earnslaw is with
us thanks to the dedicated efforts of a few individuals who didn't know what to
give up.
Tim Dare was an Auckland builder in need of a new life and
a new job due to a series of worksite injuries. The Echo was an old scow
in a bad state of neglect. Her glory days were well past her and she lay abandoned
in Picton.
The
Echo in the days when she sailed from Wellington to Picton. Photo:
Courtesy of Alexander Turnbull Library
By
the time Dare got to meet the Echo, it was a very sorry sight. "She
was in a pretty bad state. They were going to bulldoze her," says Dare. Instead,
he took over the Echo's operation. Now, both man and boat have been reinvented.
The 100-year-old Echo serves as a café and bar in Picton, with Dare
and his wife, Denise, as co-owners and operators. They also run a gallery that
details the scow's past life.
Kauri-built on the Kaipara Harbour in 1905
- and the first to be built with an engine - the Echo is said to be one
of the sturdiest and finest scows ever built in New Zealand. It ran the Wellington-Picton
route between 1920 and 1965, interrupted by a spell serving as a supply ship for
US forces in 1943 and 1944.
After returning to New Zealand, it continued
to run the Cook Strait route until interisland ferry services made it redundant.
It made its last strait crossing in 1965, and seven years later was bought by
the Marlborough Cruising Club, which took it to Picton to use as its clubrooms.
But, by 1990, the scow had deteriorated to the point it was ready to be sold as
scrap. The Dares took it over in 1992 and set about tidying her up. The café
and gallery opened two years ago.
It was the age and character of the
old scow that drew him to her, says Tim Dare. It was also the fulfilment of a
dream - in a fashion. "I always wanted to run away to sea, but I never
made it. Instead, I bought a boat that didn't float."
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