Tales form North Britain

The Gorse Fox was looking through some old files and came across the following tale, related by the Gorse Fox in the first person regarding an incident during a holiday in Scotland in the early '70s.

Pushing the Boat Out

The chain was removed from the gangway, and Angus MacSweeney welcomed us aboard. I wondered if this was a genuine name, or whether we were being greeted by a cartoon character.
It had been a grey day. After a hurried fish supper in the High Street of Fort William, Silver Vixen and I had made our way to the quay for a cruise up and down the Loch. It was early in the season so there were only a few would-be sailors waiting for the trip.

After waiting to see if any stragglers would rush up at the last minute, Captain MacSweeney started the engines a slowly pulled away from the quay and into the channel. The 38 ton vessel, freshly painted black and white, cruised down towards Ardgour, passing on our left (sorry port-side) the hotel we were using as our base for the tour, and to starboard the cottage where I had stayed several years earlier. The evening sun had broken through and it was turning out to be a very pleasant trip.
We carried on down as far as a small island where seals can sometimes be seen, though not on this occasion, then turned and cruised back up towards Loch Eil. We chatted with our fellow passengers, mostly middle-aged couples on holiday, the statutory American tourists, laden with cameras, the sort of clothes that would be proscribed by any fashion police, and an overbearing, over-friendly, over-talkative, over-the-top wife. I love Americans, but often think that they would not have such a joke image, when abroad if only they'd leave their wives at home!

We turned to port, into Loch Eil and into the setting sun. It was a lovely tranquil evening, the Loch reflected the forest clad hills lining the water's edge. The only ripples were from the outgoing tide. Soon after passing the paper mill at Corpach we turned for home, well Fort William.

The engine coughed, and Angus MacSweeney was heard to scream an expletive in an accent or dialect which made its meaning perfectly clear without any of us understanding what it was he said. The solitary cough turned into a paroxysm, and without further ado the engine died and we drifted to a silent halt in the middle of Loch Eil. Crew muttered and shouted and disappeared into the bowels of the vessel. Passengers chuckled and chatted and cheered each time an attempt was made to restart the engine. The tide was still going out and slowly the current started to drag the boat towards the uninhabited shore.

As the boat drifted one of the crew grabbed a boat hook and tried to keep the boat in away from the shallows. I grabbed a boat hook and so did several other passengers. Each time we approached the shallows we drove the boat hooks into the ground and tried to push the vessel away. The boat hooks took the strain for a while, though bending alarmingly, but after twenty minutes 38 tons of Glasgow-built cruise boat decided it was going to paddle ashore, with a grinding sound as it hit the gravel and a lurch as it stopped we came to rest stern-first on the shore. Now what! We were out of sight of Fort William, we had no radio, we were on the uninhabited shore of Loch Eil, and the engine was still dead.

I reasoned that if we had managed to fend the boat out of the shallows with boat hooks... surely we could push it off the gravel. So with a cry of "Let's push the boat out" I leapt over the side onto the shore and put my shoulder to the stern of the boat. The crew looked amazed, other passengers looked amused, Di looked concerned, I looked alone and a complete prat. However I was determined and digging my boots into the gravel, and filling the them with water as a result, I wedged my back against the boat and started to heave. I could feel the colour rising in my face as I pushed, and thought I was going to burst a blood vessel. Once I begin to look stupid, however, I am stubborn in my determination. One more effort was enough and I could feel the boat start to shift. A cheer went up from the passengers as the boat was free and started to drift clear. Eager hands reached down to help me back and as I struggled to gain a foot hold, the prow of the boat was caught by the current and the boat started to turn and again beached itself.

As I had proven the theory by now, I expected others to leap over the side and help. They, however, realised that one complete idiot on any boat is enough and left me to try again. Who ever heard of jump-starting a 38 ton boat, after all! Again I dug my heels in and again I heaved and shoved. One fellow passenger broke a boat hook trying to help from the deck. Silver Vixen was looking over the rail telling me to give up. The crew were still trying to start the engine and other passengers were getting fed-up. I stopped for breath. A small flotilla of rescue boat could be seen heading towards us. One more try. My legs started to quiver, my face glowed red and slowly the boat shifted. I had freed it again, and again it drifted clear and slowly away from me.

The rescue boats arrived and passengers were abandoning our stricken vessel, assisted and encouraged by the crew. Silver Vixen stubbornly refused to move. I was still wading out to catch the boat. Finally, I caught it and jumped, grabbing the rail. The effort of pushing the boat and then wading after it had been too much. I couldn't raise myself and was just left hanging there until SV had finally managed to alert the crew and remaining passengers to my plight. I was unceremoniously hauled on deck and ushered straight to a rescue boat.

Silver Vixen sat with me bemoaning the fact that noone helped and how they were all happy to leave me on the shore. She was probably thinking about how she'd drive home once they'd had me committed. As we headed for the dock the engine of our erstwhile cruise boat coughed into life and with a smile and wave Angus MacSweeney and his crew swept by us and arrived back at the quay while the rescue boats still had several hundred yards to go.

By the time we docked the boat was deserted. I'd guess they had all retired to the local bar to recount the tail of the idiot who pushed the boat out!