|
It's a bright summer day when I arrive to see Andrew Munson, Newlyn's
harbour master of 27 years. The harbour is lying calm, but with an
underlying and constant buzz of activity; men and women working unseen,
in the outlying and surrounding offices and worksheds. Val, in the
harbour master's office, welcomes me - Andrew is on the quay; he's
forgotten that I'm coming. She rings him. He'll be with me in 10
minutes.
I ask about taking a photograph. Does he have a uniform or maybe a harbour master's hat?
Val
says he hates cameras and hates wearing a hat; the only official hat
mysteriously fell into the water prior to the Queen's last visit,
shrank and became unwearable.
The hat is not to be found, but Andrew is here, followed by one or two men who need his assistance.
He fends them off, promising that he'll be attending to them soon.
Tall, with white-grey hair and moustache, this is a man used to working outside.
Wearing working dungarees and fishermen's boots, he has an air of understated authority and of a thousand things left to do.
I
ask him about his job - three officially - not only the harbour master
but the clerk to the commissioners and operations manager to the
lifeboat.
He works a minimum of 60 hours a week.
Just recently he has been towing the new pontoons, tying them into position.
What does he love most about his job? "The variety - no two days are the same."
He
describes the various vessels he deals with as they come into the
harbour; boats and scallopers from Ireland, Holland, Scotland, France,
Belgium, Denmark and the Channel Islands.
He tells me a story.
An English coaster called him asking to be piloted in - they were short
of fuel and needed to get in quickly.
Having guided the boat in he asked the captain for "All hands on deck!" to attend to the mooring ropes.
The captain's response was: "What you see is what you get!"
The coaster needed a minimum of seven or eight to work it but actually had three - the captain, his wife and an engineer.
Andrew concludes: "He never did pay me for that pilotage!"
Another anecdote followed about the Hebridean Princess - a luxury cruise liner.
He'd arranged the approach into harbour when a sudden squall blew up, blowing the whole bow down on to the centre of the pier.
Andrew's
urgent instruction to the captain, " Both engines full astern!" was met
with the response: "You want two rings full astern and a prayer!" How
she missed the end of the pier was a miracle.
I ask Andrew more. How has the job changed and how would he describe it?
"It's different now." he says.
"Having been here since 1979 there's more hassle, more bureaucracy.
"I'm
always learning - diplomacy is the key to the interpersonal skills
needed for interacting with and helping a huge variety of people."
Andrew
has been awarded the Chevalier d'Ordre du Medal Maritime - the highest
order the French Government can give to anyone connected to the sea -
for his help to French fishermen.
This was presented to him on board a French naval ship by the Maritime Counsellor of the French Embassy.
"French and Newlyn fishermen work closely together," he says.
He gives me an example of one incident where he was called to assist a French fisherman.
A
French trawler had made contact; they had an injured seaman who had cut
his fingers. Andrew picked him up from the vessel and accompanied him
to West Cornwall Hospital.
Three fingers were bandaged and, underneath, each one separately.
As each bandage was removed so the end of each finger dropped off one by one.
There are other stories: -
The
French crewman rescued having been found face-down in the harbour
having had an epileptic fit. He suffered severe hypothermia.
Andrew's job was to contact his family to find out his medical history.
Then
there were the five crewmen, with no identification papers, rescued by
the St Mary's lifeboat after their boat had sunk. They had to be
repatriated.
Andrew goes on to tell me that the volume of fish
landed at Newlyn ebbs and flows. In 1978 £3 million of fish was landed.
In 1991 this rose to £23 million. Now the figure stands at
approximately £19 million each year.
Memorable events for Andrew
include the opening of the new quay in 1980 by the Queen and Princess
Diana opening the new fish market and pier extension in 1990.
"They both made you feel completely at ease," he says.
And the worst moment? "The Penlee Lifeboat disaster," he states unequivocably.
"After
the wreckage had been identified at Lamorna, I had to break the news to
my current coxswain - the worst and the saddest moment of my career."
Billy
Stevenson, whose family have owned and managed the majority of the
fishing fleet at Newlyn for many years, calls in to offer me
information about the history of the harbour.
In the 1890s a
lugger returning from Whitby in a gale, the Jane from Mousehole, was
lost close to harbour in her bid to make the shelter of Penzance.
After this loss the Newlyn fishermen recognised the need for their own, larger, safe harbour.
They
were good singers and they organised concerts all over England,
collecting money from all the fishing ports that they visited. A local
banker put up the rest with a loan.
"The result," states Billy,
"was one of the finest and safest man-made harbours in the South West
which can be taken at any tide."
Billy describes a fascinating catalogue of the triumphs and difficulties of Newlyn's fishing industry.
"Newlyn has repeated its history.
"It
now has a fleet of beamers, side trawlers and crabbers which can catch
nearly every kind of fish in the sea and get it to market within a week.
"Newlyn today has the best market prices and quality of fish in the UK and exports to all parts of Europe."
In the space of 25 minutes, as we talk, three people have arrived at the office and the mobile is ringing again.
I
am very definitely holding Andrew up. He needs to move the Marie Jacob
and the Saltese Quest and there's a Dutch scalloper on the way in.
Two
days later, when I return for another interview with Andrew I find him
at the far end of the quay finishing off some winching then driving off
to return with a forklift.
He's helping Roydon Paynter change lightbulbs in the harbour's lights.
I manage to persuade him to have his photograph taken.
It
seems fitting to have the new pontoon - pieces of which are being towed
into place as I take the picture - against the backdrop of the ancient
14th century harbour wall with the lifeboat lying to one side.
The hat now seems irrelevant.
There's too much on to talk, really. "Ring me tonight," he says.
When I do he tells me that, based on the value of fish landed, Newlyn Harbour is the premier port in England.
Because of its key strategic placing, the harbour forms the epicentre of the fishing industry nationally.
He also tells me about the ordinance survey mark based at Newlyn - a pivotal method for national readings of sea level.
An
Australian jumbo jet pilot had visited last summer so that he could
actually see for himself on what the Australian airlines based their
altitude readings.
"The Newlyn Tidal Observatory," he tells me,
"is linked to the Thames Barrier to alert London should there be a
tidal surge in the south west approaches.
"One day, a piece of cordite was lit under water which sent shock waves through the depths.
"The readings were picked up by the Thames people, who urgently asked if they should close the barrier.
"The cordite was actually lit to give an explosive effect for a film being made at the time."
There were other tales of intrepid Newlyn fishermen.
One
of which tells of setting sail on the Mystery bound for Australia to
dig for gold, picking up the mail from Cape Town on the way.
Tons
of stone from the Penlee Quarry used to be exported from Newlyn until
the size of the vessels could no longer compete with freight rates from
other parts of the country.
"This was stone so strong that the vaults of the Bank of England are made from it," Andrew says.
Finally, I ask Andrew what he would do if he had all the money in the world. His answer, clear and simple,
"To see the harbour facilities grow and improve to benefit the fishing industry - to sustain it at Newlyn."
And if he retired tomorrow, how would he like to be remembered?
He thinks for a moment and then sums up his role perfectly.
"As
doing a difficult but immensely enjoyable, rewarding job; as someone
who has done their best for everyone in the fishing industry."
Article copyright WEST BRITON
 |
