A scary episode

As children we used to spend part of our summer holidays in an old cottage in Ardtole (the townland just facing Ardglass harbour). I made friends with a local youth, the same age as myself, and one summer we took a notion to make seaworthy two old home-made kayaks we had acquired. These had been flimsily made by stretching vinyl material over thin wooden frames. After a bit of work, we felt they were now watertight (well, almost). The photo shows my brother Peter in my kayak soon after our repairs.

Anyway, one day my friend and I took our kayaks outside the calm waters of the inner harbour area for the first time. We soon realised what a mistake we had made. We almost immediately found ourselves confronted by stronger waves than we had expected. As the swell increased in strength, and the troughs grew deeper, we found that we couldn’t even make a return to the sanctuary of the harbour area, for each wave threatened to swamp us. It was a physical and mental struggle just to keep from being capsized. As we drifted further out to sea I must admit I got really scared.

As the troughs grew deeper, we in turn grew more desperate. At the bottom of each trough we couldn’t even see the harbour wall, all we could see was the crest of the next wave – above us! It was when coming up to the top of one crest that I realised that people were starting to gather on the harbour wall, and we could also tell that some of them were frantically yelling at us. 

Luckily we were able, ever so incrementally, to turn the kayaks around and slowly make our way back to the relative safety of the calmer waters of the harbour. We could also see that two boats had been launched and were heading fast towards us. As they came alongside – their owners telling us in no uncertain terms what danger we had stupidly put ourselves in – we shame-facedly decided not to follow them into the harbour, but allowed them to escort us over to the shingle beach in front of our cottage.

There, standing on the shore, ashen-faced, was Mum. As we beached the two kayaks and gratefully stood once again on dry land, I saw her lift a large stick. But she didn’t head towards me – she went straight to my kayak. With the stick she proceeded to rip holes all over the canvas. I had never before seen her so emotional and upset – and I realised what a terrible trauma I had just put her through.
         Michael