Mist On The Marsh.

"The Mist On The Marsh"
My five year epic is finished at last and about to be released.  The day I thought would never dawn has arrived and gone some way to restoring my inner calm.
The film takes a look at the remains of the old way of life in and around the Norfolk and Suffolk waterways.  Recording fragile links with the past that still cling on in spite of the remorseless march of progress.

On A Wherry Fore Deck

 In that five years I have made many new friends and collected many unforgettable memories.
Filming "Reed cutters" working out on the Suffolk marshes on frosty winter mornings.
Spending gorgeous summer days gliding silently through the water on the fore deck of a wherry.  Sharing a pitched roof with Thatchers and summer evenings out on the broad with an "Eel catcher ".
An intriguing night shoot in Suffolk filming the Old Glory Molly dancers and a canoe trip along the only true Norfolk canal in the company of squadrons of dragonflies.
Priceless days under those big East Anglian skies.

Priceless Days

In my small way I like to think I have captured a little slice of local history, which may be enjoyed in the years ahead.   There is still so much out there to be recorded that "Mist On The Marsh II" is already being planned.

The Ebridge Project.

The old mill at Ebridge, on the North Walsham and Dilham canal, has lain dormant for many years.  Apart from becoming a spacious loft for a flock of feral pigeons, the only conversion that took place was from flour mill to rumour mill.  Various projects were put forward from several quarters but none ever reached fruition.  Every failed application generated more rumours and precious few facts.  That was until Barn Owl Conversions took over and got things moving.

Ebridge was owned by Cubitt and Walker from 1883 until 1998 when it was sold to W. L. Duffield and son of Saxlingham.   In its time the mill has been powered by water, steam and finally electricity.
Wherries served the mill via the North Walsham and Dilham canal until the 1930s when waterborne trade was superseded by road transport.

Over the last few months work has begun clearing the site and renovating the mill buildings.  It is only fitting that the old mill is beginning a new career in the form of residential properties and not suffering the same fate as Briggate mill, her near neighbour a few miles downstream.
 

For a full history of Ebridge mill please see Norfolk mills site

http://www.norfolkmills.co.uk/Watermills/ebridge.html

Steel Keel For A Wherry.

At the WYCCT yard at Wroxham on March 5th 2013 "White Moth" was hauled onto the slipway to have her wooden keel replaced with one of steel.  The wherry yacht "White Moth" was built by Ernest Collins in 1915.  King George V ruled Britain and the commonwealth and Henry Asquith was Prime minister.  Since then, to the best of my knowledge, "White Moth's" wooden keel has survived three monarchs, twenty seven Premierships and two World wars. 

When I was first told "White Moth" was having her wooden keel replaced with steel I thought it would make some interesting film footage - I never realised just how interesting this rare piece of engineering would be.  Having spent thirty years in the aviation industry I am no stranger to the many problems that can present themselves during heavy maintenance.  Remarkably this tricky project worked like clockwork from start to finish as each stage was meticulously planned and executed.

"White Moth's" keel clear of the slipway

The first step was to carefully raise and support "White Moth" clear of the slipway.
Then the old keel was surveyed and measured to ensure the steel replacement would retain the same amount of draught.  The old keel bolts were located and exposed by chiseling away sections of keel allowing the bolts to be cut through.

Profiles were fitted to the thirty two feet, or so, of keel on both port and starboard surfaces.  Then using the profiles as a pattern, shallow rebates were sawn along the entire length of the old keel with an electric saw, forming a guide for the serious surgery that was about to follow. 

The keel undergoing serious surgery

A two - man saw of an undetermined vintage was brought into the daylight for, what I imagine was,  the first time for many moons.  It was akin to the type of saws that were once used in saw pits.   Starting at the stern, the two-man saw began slicing its way efficiently through "White Moth's" ancient wooden keel.   The relentless effort needed to drive the saw through six inches of close grained Pitch Pine was nothing short of hard labour.  In spite of the frequent breaks required in the interests of rest and recuperation the keel was cut through surprisingly quickly.

One half of the two man saw in action

After cutting through the keel only a combination of clamps and wedges held it in place. As the clamps were slackened off  the wooden keel was dropped neatly alongside the slipway track, precisely where  intended.  It was difficult to estimate the exact weight of the old keel, but thirty odd feet of Pitch Pine in free fall could not underestimated.  With this in mind great care was taken to ensure that when the keel fell it did not disturb any of the props supporting "White Moth".  The plan worked perfectly. 

Wooden keel removed

While the old keel was being removed it's metal replacement was being fabricated in the "wet shed".  From there it was suspended by an ingenious arrangement of block and tackle and conveyed over the water.  Finely balanced and resting uneasily on a dinghy the new keel was eventually aligned with the slipway where it was submerged onto the slipway track.  

New keel crossing the water

Accompanied by the familiar sound of the ratchet rattling over the cogs on the winch "White Moth's"  new keel, shark-like in appearance, emerged from the water.  Gradually it was winched up the slipway into position beneath the Wherry yacht.

The new keel was winched up the slipway

The keel was temporarily jacked into position to allow the new keel bolts to be aligned with the fixing points inside the hull and the corresponding points on the keel. 

Keel bolts aligned

Nuts were welded to the upper surface of the metal keel and the keel bolts were turned into them with mole grips.   Everything was now aligned and ready for the keel to be raised and secured to the hull.

Nuts welded to the new keel.

A liberal application of Sikaflex marine sealant was applied to the keel's upper surface to form a watertight seal.  Finally the new keel was jacked into position and bolted down inside the hull.

Job done!

Job done!

"Hathor" Forget Me Not.

Yesterday I called in to see an old friend, she is one hundred and six years old.      I last saw her two years ago when I shot some film of  her on the Norfolk broads, she was very sprightly for her age and fun to be with.   When I called at the home she shares with two other Edwardian ladies I was shocked to she how she had deteriorated.  Her decking was cracked, her varnish had peeled and she looked very, very sad.   I am writing about  the pleasure wherry "Hathor".

Two years ago I spent the summer shooting a documentary of  "Hathor's" farewell tour across the Norfolk rivers and broads.  During that summer as I followed "Hathor"  I became more and more attached to her.  The sleek graceful lines seemed out of place for what was originally a robust cargo design.

"Hathor" is a silent witness of a time when local craftsmen created things of lasting quality for very little reward.  She is also a reminder of the enormous social divide that existed in England during the Edwardian period.  A time when the affluent, unashamedly, enjoyed their wealth and the rivers and broads became their exclusive playground.  For the working classes who served them it was an existence, measured by long days of  hard work and very few pleasures.

"Hathor" is a very special craft with a fascinating history.  She was built by Daniel Hall of Reedham in 1905 for Ethel and Helen Colman daughters of Jeremiah Colman (Colmans Mustard).  In 1897 the Colman family travelled the Nile on an Egyptian river boat named "Hathor",  during the trip Alan Colman became gravely ill and died in Luxor.   Seven years later the Colman pleasure wherry was named "Hathor" in Alan's memory.  The interior is inlaid with Teak and Sycamore creating an Egyptian theme throughout the saloon and cabins. 

It is now two years since "Hathor" sailed  the rivers and broads and she is likely to be absent for the foreseeable future.  A friend in need is a friend indeed and "Hathor" is in urgent need of  friends.  Considerable funds are needed to restore her to sailing condition.   Please visit the WYCCT website to learn more about this wonderful old wherry and,  if you so desire, sign up as a friend.

"Forget me not" 

Hathor.

  http://www.wherryyachtcharter.org/
     or you can use the "My Favourite Links"  on the right.

I have included some clips from "Hathor's" farewell tour which can be seen on Youtube.
     click on the Youtube link in "My favourite Links" on the right.

Breydon

Sunday 24th July  2011.

The first time I saw Breydon water was many years ago as a child, it was an August bank holiday.  Mum and dad, armed with a shopping bag full of sandwiches and orange juice, took us kids to Great Yarmouth for the day.    The train steamed along the edge of Breydon water where wading birds foraged in the mud  and the green grey water ebbed out through the channel.  I looked out of the carriage window completely captivated by this mysterious stretch of water and vowed I would cross it one day.

More years than I care to remember have flown by since I made that promise to myself.  It is more than likely I would not have made the trip this summer had it not been for the fact that the wherry "Maud" was scheduled to cross Breydon,  it was a film opportunity too good to miss.

First priority was to find a boat and skipper.  I posted on the Norfolk Broads forum to see if anyone could help, within an hour I had three offers.   I accepted Lord Paul of Sealand's kind offer and for the following two weeks watched the long range forecasts for Great Yarmouth with more hope than expectation.

The day of the shoot arrived and I met up with Lord Paul and "Mistral" moored at the Fisherman's Inn, Burgh Castle.   We chatted over a cup of coffee while we waited for low tide and a call from the "Maud".  The call duly arrived and we set off  for the New Haven Bridge.   It took an hour to cross Breydon and fulfill at least one childhood ambition.

                                                   It was a perfect day for yachtsmen.

It was a perfect day for yachtsmen. a North Westerly was cutting across Breydon at 34 kph raising white caps and buffeting "Mistral" who rode serenely through water.
As we approached the New Haven Bridge we could see "Maud"s great black sail away in the distance, everything was falling into place.  We arrived at the bridge and waited for "Maud" to appear, then we got another call.  The wherry could not get under Vauxhall bridge, so they would have to wait for low water and try again the following day.  

Lord Paul turned "Mistral" about and headed back to Burgh Castle,  We were both disappointed to say the least.  To make it worse as we returned across Breydon the sun broke through and the wind moderated - perfect conditions for filming.  Even though I had failed to get the shots I came for I enjoyed my day out with Paul on "Mistral"

                                                         Perfect conditions for filming.

Plan B was quickly put together.  Lord Paul and "Mistral" were leaving Breydon on the morning tide so my only option was to shoot the wherry from the Breydon wall this was assuming they could get under Vauxhall bridge.

Next day  (Monday 25th  July) A North Westerly gusting to about 30 mph - very dull with fine drizzle at times.
Conditions for filming absolutely atrocious.
I parked at Church Farm, Burgh Castle, loaded my trolley with equipment and set off for the Breydon wall.
After a hike of about a mile and a half I found a spot which gave a good view in both directions, I set the camera up got out my folding chair and waited - and waited - and waited.    Then the call from "Maud" - they were still waiting at the Vauxhall bridge.   The tide was rising - the wind was strengthening - the light was getting dimmer by the minute and my spirits were fading with the light.     I pulled my collar up, turned my back to the wind and waited alone on the Breydon wall - for two hours - in a gale - I must be nuts! 
Then another call from "Maud" they were under the bridge and on their way.  A few minutes later I could see her sail in the murky distance.     Very slowly "Maud" approached the headland where I was waiting.  A fine drizzle was blowing straight onto the lens,  the gusting wind rocked the camera making it impossible to take a steady shot on the 20x zoom.  "Maud" was well within range - if only there was a break in the cloud and a gap in the wind, I would have settled for just thirty seconds - but no such luck.   I knew it was going to be difficult to get anything at all in these conditions.

The wind did not relent, the light did not improve - but I did  get a few worthwhile shots.  Good enough to include in the film?  Probably not.    But "Maud" has to make the return trip across Breydon and I shall be waiting. 

                               "Maud" hauled out for maintenance at Burgh Castle.


Many thanks to Lord Paul and the owners and crew of "Maud" for their help and support through a very tough weekend.       For my part it has to go down as an heroic failure.

The Volunteer Wherryman.

Rain was spilling from "Albion's" great black sail, cascading across the hatches and collecting on the plankways.  The helmsman steered the wherry through the squall while on the foredeck a group of volunteers clad in waterproofs of every colour seemed largely unconcerned by the weather.   For my part in the proceedings I had the camera safely cocooned in a "High Tech" bin bag and continued filming "Albion's" progress along the Bure.

The "Volunteer's" charter was my fifth trip on "Albion" since I joined the trust a year ago.  It all began with a visit to "Albion's" yard at Ludham to have a look round.   In no time at all I had a mug of tea thrust into my hand and soon after agreed to work as a volunteer.   Being totally unskilled I was a kind of  "Odd Job".   Painting, rubbing down,  black leading the old wherry stove and checking life jackets.  All these tasks no matter how menial are all part of  "Albion's" preservation.


The best way to get sail on "Albion" is to sign up for crew training.  I thought I would give it a go and registered as a trainee mate.   Taking "Albion's" twenty six tons out on a charter is a serious business, safety  for passengers and crew is paramount.  This was constantly emphasised throughout my first training session.
The trainees were shown how to use the quant,  quanting is a very physical discipline which requires technique over brute force.  Personally I found it was somewhere between "very difficult" and "almost impossible".   If you didn't get the quant into the mud on the river bed it just floated up to the surface.     I wondered just how the old wherrymen could maintain this effort  for hours at a stretch  with a fully laden wherry and not even a breeze to assist them.

Raising and lowering  the mast is a drill that has to be carried out in strict order.  The ton of lead at the base  of the 42 foot mast is so finely balanced it takes surprisingly little effort to raise and lower the three tons of Pitch-Pine. That is, of course,  assuming all the necessary locks and pins have been removed .  It is claimed that working wherrymen could lower a mast and shoot a bridge without losing headway - it took we trainees slightly longer.

Next instruction was rigging and raising the sail.  I found raising the sail by far the most difficult of all the tasks, winding the winch saps the strength from your arms and drags the air from your lungs.
By the time I had learned about Gaff lines, Winches and Reefing points it was time for lunch.
After lunch we did a "man overboard" drill.  Recovering the dummy that had fallen overboard - it really was a dummy,  not one of the trainees.  For the recovery drill the wherry was brought to a standstill and anchored with mudweights while the tender was despatched to recover the "man overboard" 
This is one skill the original wherrymen never had to learn - they neither had lifejackets or tenders with outboard engines.  The truth is many of them could not swim and drowned as a result - tragically some of the deaths were  wherrymen's children.

Progression from Trainee Mate - to  Mate - to Skipper takes as long as takes in true wherry fashion.  There is no hurry so it is best to enjoy the experience.

To sail on "Albion" is to experience living history,  an insight into a forgotten way of life.  It is hard to believe that some families actually lived within the confines of these vessels, cooking meals in the tiny cuddy, with some of their children sleeping in the foredeck.   A time when the waterways were major transport routes  and wherries were a common sight.

To see a short video of  "Albion" on the voluteers charter go to. 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R98jHU6ydos&feature=mfu_in_order&list=UL

or use youtube link in my favourite links  (opposite).

Visit the Norfolk Wherry Trust website for more information
http://www.wherryalbion.com/

Coltishall to Buxton by Canoe

Coltishall, Norfolk, May 1st 2011.

I guess the people who need to know are well aware that the navigation for larger craft on the river Bure ends at Coltishall - or to be precise - Horstead Mill.   Beyond this point flows a tranquil stretch of river largely undiscovered - The Aylsham navigation.  It was used by trading wherries until the great flood of 1912 when many of the bridges and locks were washed away.  In order to retrace the route of the old wherries all the way to Aylsham we needed to get a camera along these upper reaches of the Bure.  I reluctantly agreed that the most suitable craft for this task would be a canoe.    I have never made a secret of the fact  that I am not a natural sailor, nor have I spent a lot of time on the water.  Since I started making this film recording the history of  the Norfolk and Suffolk waterways I have found myself in a number of different craft.    But a canoe!  I must be partly Red Indian or completely mad.    

Initially the plan was to fix two canoes side by side to create a stable camera platform (and to make the old chap with the camera feel a lot safer) - the idea was like the "curates egg" - good in parts.   Unfortunately this meant we would have to get two canoes and the camera equipment in and out of the water to negotiate the  locks along the navigation.  My advisors (son Andrew and his mate) came up with a revised plan, all three of us would go in one canoe. Being the lightest, I would be in the middle to balance the canoe.  I pointed out this would mean I would be filming the back of someones head instead of the river.   So the plan was revised for the second time, I would go in the  front seat with the camera and equipment and the two heavyweights would sit amidships and astern.     Once the seating arrangements had been finally agreed the canoe was launched and I was nominated to load first.   The canoe looked very narrow, the river looked very wide and the water looked very wet.   The little craft rocked violently as I took my place in the front seat and stowed the camera equipment.   My knuckles turned white from gripping the sides of the canoe when both oarsmen took their turn to clamber aboard.   This was my first trip in a canoe and I promised myself, if I survived, it would be the last.
A few minutes later we had shoved off the Horstead slipway and were paddling towards Aylsham on the first leg of our assignment.   Deep down I knew I would eventually have to release my grip on the sides of the canoe and start shooting some film.

The first part of the navigation meanders through a canopy of trees that overhang the river - quite surreal - it is not difficult to imagine a heavily laden wherry nosing its way along this part of the river.

By the time we got to Coltishall bridge I was beginning to enjoy the trip.  I must have crossed Coltishall road bridge hundreds of times but this was the first time I had ever passed under it.  Bathed in sunlight the bridge looked a picture with its gentle arch mirrored in the water.  The bridge was rebuilt in 1913 after the great flood had washed away the original.

Paddle blades broke the surface of the river with a gentle splash.  The water rippled softly along the length of the canoe as we passed through Largate and on toward Mayton Bridge.    The lush green scenery glided past our little craft, a clear blue sky left its shimmering reflection in the river.  Perfect peace!  In no time at all I had become a committed fan of the canoe.  My fingers had returned to their normal pink colour and the camera was recording some mesmerising shots of the river.

As straight as an arrow the "New Cut" stretched out ahead of us,  on either side the trees had given way to verdant green pastures.  In the open water of the "New Cut" a stiff breeze met us head on as we approached Mayton bridge.

  On the the far side of the bridge the breeze freshened to a fairly brisk "Northerly"  making the water quite choppy.   Our little canoe glided serenely over the ripples through "Buxton Long" reach and past the romantically named "Goose Turd Hill".  One can only imagine why the old wherrymen gave it this name.

The  "Great Eastern" railway bridge lay ahead of us.  This three span girder bridge over the river Bure was built in in 1878 and carried trains on the "Bure Valley" line until it was closed to passenger traffic in 1952   freight trains continued to use the line until 1982.    Since 1990 the bridge has been used by the narrow gauge trains of the "Bure valley" railway running daily services between Coltishall and Aylsham throughout the summer.

As soon as we had cleared the railway bridge Buxton mill was in sight.  The white painted building standing out against the trees that border the mill race.   The approach to the mill was very shallow, we tried to pick out the channel until a grating and crunching beneath us brought the canoe to a standstill.  I guess it was the combined weight of the three of us that eventually grounded our gallant little canoe.  Donning my rubber boots I abandoned ship and carried the camera and equipment to the bank while the two lads recovered the canoe.

Part one complete I am really looking forward to part two.  Buxton to Aylsham - by canoe.
To see an edited video go to. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JiCMhQnsGuk

St Benets by Wherry

Any film that aspires to portray the history of the Norfolk and Suffolk waterways must include the legendary "Black Sailed Traders", the famous Norfolk wherries.
On Sunday August 1st 2010 my friend Steve took me out in his boat to shoot film of the "Albion" under sail.    We planned to follow the wherry from Womack to Ranworth where arrangements had been made for "Albion" to collect the Bishop of Norwich and take him to St Benets Abbey for the annual service.
I had intended to film the Bishop's arrival at the abbey twelve months earlier when he sailed on the "Hathor" but I was unable to cover the event.
We set off at about 08.30 in bright sunshine - a truly glorious summer's day.  There were already quite a number of boats on the Bure as we made our way to Womack water and the "Albion".

At Womack we spoke to Henry, one of the "Albion" skippers, to establish what was  allowed and what was forbidden while we accompanied the wherry under sail.  From a filming point of view there were a few issues  to be addressed.  Mounting the camera on a tripod was out of the question as the engine vibrations would be transmitted to the camera and produce camera shake.   Our strategy  was simple - hand held camera - wide angle lens - get in close.

Following "Albion" out of Womack water clearly demonstrated some of the problems that would persist throughout the day.   Our first attempt to get alongside was blocked by fishing poles that seemed long enough to reach the opposite bank.   Steve, a keen angler himself, quite rightly respected the etiquette of the river and waited for a fisherman-free stretch of water.    Each time we found one there was usually a cruiser travelling toward us so all we could do was follow "Albion" until we reached the Thurne.  This in itself was not easy,  the little "Norman 20's" lowest comfortable speed was some-what quicker than "Albion's" rather sedate rate of progress.   While astern of us an ever growing flotilla of impatient cruisers and sailing dinghies swarmed, tacked and milled around us.

When we reached the Thurne it was like uncorking a bottle of champagne, craft of every shape and size hurried past us.  It  took an age until we were more or less on our own with "Albion"  and able to position our  boat and finally shoot some film.    It was no surprise that the first week in August  was going to be a busy period on the Broads but I had not expected anything like the volume of traffic we encountered.   Any clean shots of just "Albion" were few and far between, and to pass her sixty-five foot hull  kept  us on the wrong side of the river for longer than we would have liked, especially when there were  cruisers approaching us, at times three abreast.    Steve had to keep his wits about him all the time to avoid getting trapped between "Albion" and the bank while allowing dinghies to tack across our bow.

It was certainly an interesting shoot.  By far the best camera angle was over the starboard side which gave a good clear field of vision, but this meant we on the wrong side of the river for long periods.  Shooting over the port side was restricted by Steve at the wheel which meant the only angle was from amidships to astern.  The very worst angle was shooting over the bow of the Norman.  It required me to climb up and shoot over the cabin roof making sure not to get the bow rails in shot.  On more than one occasion a sudden change in direction or speed caused me to lose my balance which produced more than one heart stopping moment.   I was acutely aware that I had the security of a life jacket but the camera did not, that would have been one very expensive splash. 

"Albion" cruised serenely on her way toward Ranworth with cruisers and dinghies dodging out of her path.  We shot "Albion" from every conceivable angle as we made our way along the Bure.  At around midday we moored alongside  "Albion" for  lunch and awaited the arrival of the Bishop.

After lunch "Albion" cast off, with the bishop on board,  raised sail and headed for St Benet's.   If we thought the river was busy during the morning we had a nasty surprise in the afternoon.  The Bure was like the M25 on a bad day.   The best we could do was to keep station astern  of the old "trader" and grab whatever shots became available.
The bishop took the helm of  "Albion" and led the flotilla of assorted craft toward St Benet's.

The closer we got to the abbey the more crowded the river became.   Every available mooring was taken and the abbey precinct was heaving with worshippers.   "Albion" was directed downstream to the old quay heading that was crumbling and devoid of mooring posts.   The BA launch waved us through with "Albion" and I got the best shots of the day.

I had asked another friend  to shoot some film from the abbey precinct.   Some where amidst the melee of cameras, spectators and a brass band he was able to record the bishop coming ashore.   A storm had been threatening for most of the afternoon and the overcast sky grew darker and darker.   I am not a religious man but there was something surreal about the whole event,  St Benet's acquired an eerie atmosphere, almost biblical.    Should you ever  find yourself in the area of St Benet's on the first Sunday in August take the time to attend the service.   It is an experience you will never forget.

With "Albion" securely moored and the bishop safely ashore our days work was done.
Steve steered the Norman away from St Benets and headed for home as lightning flashed and thunder rumbled behind us.