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Well there I was in the bar of the Cruising Association in Limehouse basin, London, about 10 years ago. I was telling them that the contract on which I had been working in London had come to its end; therefore my residence in Limehouse basin was also ending. I would be sailing ‘Red Marlin’ back to its base north of Aberdeen. “Oh,” the cry went up “you can’t go yet; it is the Salmon Leap race this weekend”. “No,” I said, “it is now September and I must be on my way. Anyway I do not have a crew”. “No problem,” shouted Des, of the Rival 32, “We'll fix you up with the CA’s finest.”

 

And I fell for it.

 

Lots of stalling until the day of the race and finally I was introduced to my crew, “SAD RON”. The deal was this - collect quiz papers from the committee boat and then race down to Dagenham and back and based on the results of my handicap, position and quiz results just collect my prize then head off up the North Sea. On the way to collect the quiz papers Sad Ron confessed that this was his first time on a boat of any description. “OK” I said, “then you will do the quiz and in the meantime listen on the radio.”

 

When I saw all 12 of the other yachts disappearing round the bend towards Greenwich I realized that the race time had been brought forward, unheard by Ron on the radio.

 

So we chased after them. I asked Ron for the first question (they were all based on scenes we would pass on the Thames) and he passed me the paper.

 

Then, for the entire race, he regaled me with the story of how his wife had recently run off with a younger man. Was I now getting a clue as to how he got his nickname? I shouted out answers for Ron to write down and concentrated on sailing the boat. When I turned the last bend before Dagenham I saw mayhem ruling the day ahead of me. Round our anchored committee boat, off the Ford factory, 12 yachts had to turn as a car transporter ship was trying to leave port. From the heated comments on the radio it appeared that nobody had informed the Port of London Authority that we had a race planned. By the time I got there I had gone through all the yachts tacking up river and the ship had gone. This is where Red Marlin came into her own. I was able to sail back up river to the next bend without tacking at all. Now, as I was the only boat able to do this I

moved from last place to second and continued to get further ahead. The day began to look up.

 

Once over the finish line I said to Sad Ron “Give me the answer sheet, Ron”. He handed me a blank sheet of paper. He then confessed that not only could he not sail but he could neither read nor write.

 

A year in the East End of London and only now had I learned what it is to be totally “stitched up”. To make the story of woe complete the weather off North East Scotland had turned treacherous, while only the week before it had been perfect.

THE TALE OF SAD RON

Tony of ‘Red Marlin’