Trevor Gibbs(writer) and Phil Kneen(photographer),Isle of Whithorn Harbour‘And now the Storm-Blast came, and he
Was tyrannous and strong:
He struck with his o’ertaking wings,
And chased us south along.’
The Rime of the Ancient Mariner - Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Was tyrannous and strong:
He struck with his o’ertaking wings,
And chased us south along.’
The Rime of the Ancient Mariner - Samuel Taylor Coleridge
It was an almost surreal feeling, sitting in the bar of the Steampacket Inn on the Isle of Whithorn, contemplating death whilst gazing out across a tranquil harbour bathed in late December sunshine. The scene before us had probably changed little over the past ten years. That same somnolent setting was probably the last view of home that the crew of the Solway Harvester had seen as they sailed out on the 10th January 2000, to meet their fate at the hands of an unforgiving sea.
An idea that had originally begun as a conversation in another pub, on another isle, some four months previously (was it really only four months?), the Solway project has grown into an unstoppable juggernaut over the past few weeks; only slowing down to pick up members of the RNLI, the Manx Government, the Royal Navy and an assortment of police officials, coastguard personnel and church ministers along the way. What had started as a flickering light somewhere in the dark recesses of Phil’s mind had now entered the consciousness of folk both here in Whithorn and back at home on the Isle of Man. We had people eager to get involved now, including such luminaries as Donald Gelling and Dudley Butt, who had already furnished us with a wealth of anecdotes and stories relating to the recovery of the vessel, as well as the likes of Ben Key and Robert Corran, respective skippers of the HMS Sandown and the Douglas lifeboat: men who had faced the full might of the raging storm that night in an effort to locate the missing scallop dredger and its 7 man crew.
We were in Whithorn to meet up with some of the families and I think the reality of what we were doing was finally kicking in. How do you ask someone about their dead son? How do you introduce yourself to a woman who was heavily pregnant when her husband drowned, and then look into the face of the 9 year old boy who had never even met his father? Myself and Phil had retired to the bar under the vague, and it has to be said lame, understanding of undertaking a planning meeting. We were fooling no-one. Not even ourselves if truth be known. We were actually hoping that an infusion of strong liquor would steady the nerves prior to our first meeting with the parents of Davy Lyons, a 17 year old lad, who at the time of his death hadn’t even been big enough to join the army!
Parents shouldn’t have to bury their children, its against nature, but over the course of the following weekend we met with three families who had done just that. Two of the boys had been 17, inseparable friends who had a lifetime of experiences ahead of them. The other had been just 22. A combined age of 56, all gone in the space of probably less than 20 minutes. Then there was Karen Jolly, whose husband Robin had been the brother of the Solway’s skipper. We sat and listened to her tell us about the last Christmas they had spent together. Not once did we feel uncomfortable or intrusive. These people were more than happy to share their memories and it wasn’t a feeling of senseless waste that we came away from Whithorn with, but rather an indomitable mood of quiet dignity and, it has to be said, hope. Whilst the memories were still raw and the anger still palpable, the spirit that remained was undefeated.
You have to wonder how they spent this past Christmas and New Year, the 10th anniversary of the sinking doubtless tinging the festivities with some sadness. From our perspective it has probably focused our resolve to do the project justice, to give them something to remember. The one overriding response we got whilst we were in Scotland was how grateful they were to the Isle of Man for what they did to bring the boys home. The island went against every previous precedent, every piece of bureaucratic advice and even the British government itself to raise the boat and recover the crew. The Manx people should be proud of what they achieved and if any of you fancy a quiet drink in the Steampacket Inn in Whithorn, just tell them you are from the Isle of Man...
....to be continued