There are some things in life that sort the men from the boys.
I don’t just mean trials of strength and physical toughness, I mean things that transcend all worldly experience.
Take the hermit who lives in absolute poverty in a cave on the south face of Everest.
He reaches a state of peace and spiritual contentment that only comes with the realisation that nothing that could possibly happen to you could be worse than what you had already endured.
To give you an example in a modern context, I will just say one word. Gardening.
No matter how much you know, no matter how experienced you are, there will always be something that will be sent as if to test your faith.
I have been a keen gardener for well over 50 years and the problems and setbacks nature has devised and delivered to me were as nothing when compared with the greatest challenge of all.
Be it physical or mental, there is one ultimate character testing situation that nothing else that I have experienced can compare. Owning a boat.
The journey began one day, more than a few years ago, on a stroll round Port St Mary harbour.
We had parked the car, enjoyed a relaxing lunch and were walking towards the end of the outer harbour wall when I saw it. The Boat.
It was big, blue and beautiful and for sale. And I was in love.
Little did I know that my life had changed, and speaking with the benefit of hindsight. I was hooked.
There was a number on the ‘For Sale’ sign and before I could say ‘Splice the Mainbrace’ we were talking to the owner.
To cut a long story short, hands were shaken and within a couple of weeks we were cruising down the coast in the direction of the Calf of Man, and onwards to Peel, which would be the new home port of the Ben Veg. We tied up alongside the harbour wall and adjourned to the Creek for a celebration lunch .
The party continued all day, and our lives had changed. A very good friend, now sadly deceased, was appointed chief engineer and a list of jobs to be done was prepared.
Anyone who has owned a boat will know the work is never finished. We were to spend years of our lives in the service of the Ben Veg. The realisation slowly dawns that you do not own a boat, the boat owns you.
An example of what I mean was the problem of fitting an auxiliary engine.
Our boat was powered by a decent sized diesel engine that everyone (apart from me, that is) considered to be the tool for the job.
I had no doubt they were right but when you are at sea and something happens to the engine you can’t just pull over and phone the AA.
The Pullyman royal yacht had not been designed to carry an outboard second engine.
However nothing is impossible and after two years of design and development I was at the wheel on the first leg of a round the island cruise.
The plan was to sail from Peel to Douglas, via the Calf, overnight in the capital, and on day two, cruise to Ramsey. Another night on the town, and then on the third day, round the Point of Ayre and home.
We were just off Bradda Head, the wind was brisk and the sea just a bit too choppy, but I knew that once we turned into the Sound we would be in more sheltered water.
The rain had decided to join in the fun and was lashing down. But believe it or not, we were enjoying the trip.
We were warm and dry, the boat was ploughing on at 12 knots, we had big mugs of coffee, sailor sized sandwiches, and then we hit a floating log.
At least that’s what we thought it was. The propeller took the blow, the drive shaft snapped and we were adrift.
Two years of research, development and determination, plus an auxiliary engine, took us into Port Erin harbour and safety. The Pullyman Expedition will continue next week.
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A decade ago Pullyman – aka Michael Cowin – was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease, a condition that affects people in different ways. Michael discovered writing and Island Life is featuring some of his musings. Sometimes topical, sometimes nostalgic, read about life as seen through the eyes of Pullyman