No 100. My Worst Sea Voyage on the Leda. Dec .1959.

No 100. My Worst Sea Voyage.

To mark a Century of Articles for the Groat written under “Rain on my Window”, I took a long look back over the ones I have done, and enjoyed doing. I have had a lot of fun in writing of my long gone times, a lot of good crack with many readers nearly as old as myself, and with not so many now even older !!!
The sea is probably my favourite topic, with recorded family connections going far back into the early 1600s.
I turn to John Masefield’s memorable poem:-

“ I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship, and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.

I must down go to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way, where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.


On Monday 7th Dec 1959 Nettie and I made the first of our many trips to Norway to visit my sister Isobel, married Dec 1958 to Thorlief Johannessen. They lived in the town of Voss inland from Bergen.The sailing was from Newcastle to Bergen on the Leda of the Fred. Olsen Line. Sailing time from North Shields was 4 pm. On board we went out on the boat deck to have a brief look in the gathering gloom at the Tyne River. On the South Shields side were the huge cranes of the ship building industry that is no longer there. The wind had got up to a ferocious gale, the noise was horrendous, howling through the towering riverside cranes snugged down against the wind.

Going down the River Tyne at 4pm the ship was already listing to port with the weight of the South Easterly gale on her starboard side. Immediately the ship’s public address system called us all to assemble in the saloons where we had a head count and were told not to go outdoors under any circumstances. A crew-man at each door took care of that. When all heads had been counted the double steel outer doors were shut and locked. Porthole and window steel covers were likewise shuttered and locked. Ominous indeed.
We were told there would be no dinner that evening and were advised to go to our cabins forthwith and stay there. Suggested, indeed advised, was to change into our night attire and take to our bunks. We were in for a very bad crossing.
Our small cabin was well aft with an upper and lower bunk, probably about the cheapest we could get!! Drawbacks were closeness to the noisy propeller shaft and we would get an exaggerated movement compared to a cabin midships. No port holes either. We were entombed.

Abruptly the ship’s easy movement down the sheltered River Tyne changed as we crossed the Bar into the teeth of one of the heaviest South East gales ever recorded, immediately pitching and falling in the huge seas we could not see. Up and down, up and down, that stern cabin was no place to be that night.
We slept not at all. Our upper and lower bunks against the bulkhead had an outer rail like a hospital bed which kept us safely in place. As we pitched we would rise on the uplift, fall back down to meet our bunk on its way up again. Nearest thing to a bucking bronco is the best way I can describe it.
Over that long midwinter night we held on. The Leda pitched mightily. Then it rolled. Then it corkscrewed, a particularly bad movement. Then it tried to do áll three together. We could feel the ship was over shallower water, then deeper. The sea changed in direction and malevolence. Possibly the Captain changed course now and again as the sea dictated. I think he would have tried to head into the gale when he could as that pitching movement was the least uncomfortable.
Anyway we had every possible gyration a ship could go through other than turning turtle or just diving straight down. It did happen to a destroyer during the 1939/45 War which disappeared in an instant with all hands in full view of other ships, its back broken. I think we were too frightened to be frightened!! Just hold on, speak to each other now and again for re-assurance. That night was endless.
Morning came according to our watches but still the hell continued. Eventually a perceptible lessening of movement, enough to get our clothes tidy. By my calculation we had to be nearing the coast of Norway and coming into the lee of the land. We were due into Bergen at 1pm. No point in leaving the cabin just yet, and we were not hungry. No breakfast was served anyway that morning.
Then a calming, we were entering Bergen Fiord though still a fair bit to go. We ventured onto the now level deck to breathe deeply of fresh sharp air and enjoy the spectacular beauty of one of Norway’s wonderful fiords. The tops of far away inland mountains were snow capped.
Small islands slid past, wooden houses balanced precariously on the shore edge with small boats garaged to tiny timber jetties. The water was calm. The wind still howled above us but less so. The water-side wooden houses had splendid and varied colours, none of our British “You can have any colour you like as long as it is grey.”
Then a wonderful announcement, we would have plenty time for lunch before we docked in Bergen. The Captain came on over the public address thanking us in Norse and English, admitting it was the worst crossing he had ever done. He told us they would try to make up for it with the best lunch they could provide, and hoped we would enjoy Norwegian Cuisine.

And it was so. Buffet style, help yourself, unlimited lobster, crab, monstrous prawns, fresh salmon, smoked salmon with soured cream, gravalax salmon, pickled herring as only Norwegians can do, spiced herring, fairly tasteless fish balls like eating sea foam, nothing to get a bite on; meat balls Norwegian style which I liked, slices of cured ham Norwegian style, lamb in various guises, bowls of hot hard-boiled eggs, fresh bread and tasty rolls that the galley crew must have been working on as we neared the coast, croissants, real butter, real cream, jugs of good rich creamy milk, kultur milk very like the buttermilk of my youth and to which I became quite addicted, cheese in abundance, both Norwegian and French. Seriously good coffee with lumps of rock sugar that you put into your mouth and drank your hot coffee over, delicious. We made up for the missed meals, our appetites quite back to normal. Out of the now unshuttered windows we saw Bergen Fiord slide past, an ever changing kaleidoscope of colour.
Only when we reached Voss did we hear of the savagery of that storm. The eight members of the crew of the Broughty Ferry lifeboat Mona lost their lives going to the assistance of the North Carr Lightship which had broken from its moorings opposite Fife Ness. After the Lightship had been adrift for 36 hours the crew of seven were taken off by helicopter.
Two ships - the Norwegian freighter Elfrida and the German coaster Merkur, had foundered in the North Sea with a loss of 27 lives. Other vessels had been riding out the storm since it began, a number of ships had not been heard of for days.
Back home in Caithness there was another tragic loss that night of which we heard on the Radio. The trawler George Robb, outward bound from Aberdeen, was driven onto Duncansby Head, missing safety round Duncansby Head by a short half mile. The Coastguard helplessly watched the stricken vessel from the cliff top, unable to do anything to help. They fired a rocket to try to carry a line to the ship, the gale blew it back over their heads!!! At times they had to go on their hands and knees or be blown over. The twelve crew men of the George Robb lost their lives. So too did Eric Campbell, Station Officer of the Coastguard in Wick, who collapsed and died on the cliff top. Thirteen lost lives!!
A comment made by John Green, New Houses, Groats, summed it all up:- "The siren was being sounded at five minute intervals," he said, "but after it went four or five times, it became silent."