Let's Be Broad Minded

It was sometime between the 4th and 9th of July 1954 that I fell in love.  Not with a member of the opposite sex, but with 125 miles of gloriously tranquil rivers and lakes - The Norfolk Broads.

It happended like this:-  My fiance and I were due to be married on the 3rd July 1954 and there had been much discussion about a destination for our honeymoon.  At the time my fiance was a telephone operator at the GPS's Birmingham central exchange and a colleague had persuaded her that we should hire a boat on the Norfolk Broads.  We obtained a catalogue from Blakes Holidays Afloat and, to cut a long story short, found ourselves committed to a week on a una rig Sailing Boat - the 'Maybee'.  Now, my nautical experience was limited to a rowing boat on our local park and a trip on the New Brighton ferry.  Anyway, the brochure that said 'Maybee' was easily handled and built especially for the novice but not as it turned out for the idiot!!  When my fiance told her friends at the exchange, they convinced her that a week on a yacht with no experience would be an exciting start to any marriage!

We were married on the 3rd of July and it was arranged that we would take over the boat on the Sunday morning as there was no way we could get to the boatyard on Saturday. 

When we arrived at the boatyard there was only one person there to meet us and he was not in the best of moods, presumably because we had spoilt his Sunday off.   We were unceremoniously hustled into the boat and our suitcase taken for safekeepig.  He then raised the sail, pushed us off and disappeared, presumably to his Sunday lunchtime drink.  It was a pleasant day with light wind and as we drifted downstream I began to gain a little confidence.  I might add that I was still dressed in my wedding suit complete with collar and tie and my new wife was still in her 'going away' outfit.

We had reached the outskirts of Wroxham when my misplaced confidence was shattered by a sudden squall.  We both dived into the cabin the find raincoats leaving the boat to look after itself.  When we returned to the well we found that the boat had become caught in some trees, a branch of which had pierced the sail.  We had no idea how to take the sail down but we managed to work out that if one loosened the ropes holding up that big stick at the top of the sail (the gaff) the whole thing would come down.  The sail did come down and most of it went into the water.  The problem now was what to do with it!  After a fashion we manged to get the sail into a reasonable if untidy bundle  but by this time we had drifted across the river to some inviting quay heading displaying a 'No Mooring' sign to which we attached our mooring rope.  Time for a cup of tea we thought.  Cooking on 'Maybee' was by two primus stoves filled with paraffin. Fortunately I was familiar with these stoves so I was soon able to get the kettle going.  Next we had to find water for the kettle.  We had been told that drinking water was contained in a stone jar under the counter - we found two.  One contained water, the other paraffin.  Since they were adjacent they both smelt of paraffin.  To be safe (?) we dipped the kettle into the river and no cup of tea has ever tasted better.

We decided over our cup of tea that we should return to the boatyard to confess about the torn sail.  No quant pole was provided, instead there wer two enormous oars described as sweeps and this was how we made our way back.  After tying up a gentleman appeared on the quay to enquire why we had returned so soon.  We showed him the torn sail and explained what had happened, it was quite obvious to him we hadn't a clue.  He was very understanding although he could bearly concel his mirth.  The next morning he  would arrange for one of his men to fit and new sail and take us on a course of instruction.  I think our story of using river water for tea was going to earn him a pint or two when he re-told our story in the local pub. 

The following day, true to his word, one of the men from the boatyard arrived to fit us with a new sail and give us our instruction, this time we more suitably dressed.  In a couple of hours we were given sufficient enough grounding to be let loose again and for the rest of the week we sailed happily Wroxham Broad, Salhouse Broad and the River Bure between the two.  Although this was the extent of our cruise, we were utterly entranced by the whole experiece.  When we handed our boat over at the end of our honeymoon we felt we were hardened mariners.

Since my first visit to the Broads in 1954 I have seen many changes.  Most of the wooden boats have gone from the hire fleets and petrol engines replaced by diesel.  The number of yachts gradually reduced to just a few although happily this trend is being reversed.  A good many of the family run boatyards have been absorbed by the big companies and some yards have disappeared altogether to be replaced by housing or holiday accommodaion.  Two of the Broads finest watering holes at Wroxham and Potter Heigham were gutted by fire.  I particularly enjoyed the upstairs bar overlooking the river at the  Bure Court Hotel which was usually our first port of call after leaving Alan Royall's yard at Wroxham.  One of the less welcome changes has been the practice of charging exorbitant fees for overnight moorings particularly outside public houses even when patronising the establishment for a meal.

The 125 miles of gloriously tranquil rivers and lakes are not quite so peaceful now during the holiday season but we did find isolation we we hired our favourite cruiser 'Royal Tango' over Christmas 1996.  Now with advancing years we find that the agility needed to manage a cabin cruiser is somewhat lacking.  So it was in the Spring of 2004, 50 years after my first visit we enjoyed our last cruise on the Broads.  Just like the first visit, the weather was perfect for all but one day.  Now in my 80th year we still visit the Broads area and look longingly at those lucky people afloat in the hired or privately owned boats both powered and sail.

Mr Clive W Rawlins