Mike, Randall, and I spent a delightful weekend (30th July) near Budleigh Salterton in Devon staying at the rather grand house (formerly the Bicton Old Rectory) of Mike’s friends Jon and Angela. Their daughter Rachel was involved in a Pony Camp at the nearby Bicton Park so we were lucky to catch them for a summer weekend when they were not attending some more-distant horse-riding event. Friends Suzy and Bruce and their daughter Izzy were also visiting for the weekend but there was plenty of room for every one despite various renovations occurring throughout the early- to mid-18th Century house. We ate extremely well and enjoyed the summery weather with a barbeque outside and walks along the nearby River Otter.



Enjoying lunch outside Jon and Angela’s house, formerly Bicton Old Rectory

On Saturday, Randall and I nipped over to Wool (near Wareham) in Dorset, to have a delicious lunch with friends Geoff and Anthea at Mustardseed Cottage. That charming 16th century cottage was my home for a year when I was a graduate student and conducting research at the Freshwater Biological Association’s River Laboratory a few miles down the road. Geoff was a Naval Officer and he and Anthea were posted in Norway while I lived in Wool. I had seen them briefly once since, in Portugal in 1998, so it was amazing how easily we reconnected. It was lovely to see them again and even after lingering over lunch, we eventually had to leave even though we all had many more sailing or naval stories to relate.



Alison, Anthea, and Geoff in Mustardseed Cottage

The following day, Jon took Mike, Izzy, Randall, and me up in his twin-engine, six-seater plane for a tour of the area. It was a beautifully sunny day so the coast from Seaton (east) to Dartmouth (west) was spectacular. The sands of the Exmouth estuary, the red or chalk-white cliffs of the Jurassic Coast (so named for the many fossils found around Lyme Regis), and the rows of boats moored in the River Dart were most impressive.



Mike, Jon, and Randall pushing Jon’s plane

We also flew over the Britannia Royal Naval College, commonly known as Dartmouth, which is the initial officer training establishment of the British Royal Navy. After passing the Special Entrance exam, my father attended Dartmouth for a year (equivalent to officer basic-training) starting in 1941 before moving to the Royal Naval Engineering College at Keyham (near Plymouth) in 1942.

The buildings of the current campus were completed in 1905 but the training of naval officers at Dartmouth dates from 1863, when the wooden hulk HMS Britannia was moved from Portland and moored in the River Dart to serve as a base. Until 1941, Dartmouth was, in effect, a specialized boarding school, with parents paying fees for tuition and board for cadets from the age of 13 to 17. My father was one of about 60 cadets per year who entered at age 17 to 18.5 after attending a normal school and passing the Special Entrance exam. Shortly after my father left, six Focke-Wulf aircraft bombed the College in September 1942, from which two bombs penetrated the College's main block. Cadets and staff were subsequently moved to Eaton Hall in Cheshire until the autumn of 1946.

It was fascinating to get a good aerial view of the place where my father had spent the beginning of his naval career and about which he had talked and written with some fondness. Being in the middle of World War II, the cadets certainly worked hard at basic training and more academic studies. However, the fact that my father arrived there with far more sailing experience than most of the other cadets and thoroughly enjoyed the sailing exercises (including sailing a triangular course in 32-foot-long or 10 m, open cutter that was fully manned with 14 people but had no tiller), no doubt contributed to his happy memories of the place.

Dad died in 2001 so he never knew that in 2008 Randall and I would set-off to go sailing full-time. There are often moments when I wish that I had acquired more of his sailing skills in my youth and there are many other times when I wish that he could have seen what Randall and I have been able to accomplish on our passages. But most of the time I am simply thankful that I have inherited his love of the sea and boats and feel pretty sure that regardless of how sub-optimally we may have our sails trimmed, he would approve of our life-style and effort regardless.