Fishing--another Way

OldEric says :-) I would be 12 or 13 when I got this brilliant idea for fishing, to catch the elusive trout in the larger becks and small rivers. I had read about the salmon poachers who used to make carbide bombs, throw them in the rivers and when they exploded the shock waves of the explosion stunned the fish, they came to the surface and all that had to be done was to lift the fish out of the water. Simple.
I found out all that I needed to do was get a screw top bottle, get a piece of carbide and put it in the bottle, light it, put some damp rag or cotton wool in the bottle and put the screw top on. The smouldering carbide mixing with water vapour causes a gas to develop and as the gas increases, the pressure in the bottle increases to the point where the bottle explodes and the dirty deed is done.
I had the bottle, I had the cotton wool, the trouble was the carbide. None of the ironmongers of the time who stocked carbide would sell it to me. They were more than conversant with the trick. In the old days before batteries carbide was easy to procure. The principle was used for lighting and the gas emissions were controlled by ventilation. Carbide burning gave off a very intense white light. Many people bought carbide before the advent of batteries. In my days as a boy only those who had nefarious activities in mind generally wanted carbide.
It was the same with fire works. During WW2 fireworks were prohibited and I decided to build my own, I had got some formulae and I tried all the chemists in Penrith with my list of ingredients. But they were on the ball too, some would smile and say no, others would just say "get out".

Captain Embley, a Sequel

OldEric says :-) A sad sequel to Captain Embley. During WW2 he had been torpedoed 3 times, I think, but fortunately he came through the war unscathed. After WW2 he had difficulty getting a new command due to the reduction of shipping and he had to take the rank of 1st Officer, one step down. Six months after the cease of hostilities his ship was in the Aegean Sea which is between Italy and what was then Yugoslavia. During his watch on the bridge he was standing out on the wing of the bridge. The ship collided with a stray floating mine which exploded on impact below, close to where Peter's Dad was standing. Captain Embley was killed.
We would both be 12 or was it 13 at the time, I remember feeling very sad for my friend Peter, imagining what it would be like if my Dad died. Looking back now I think I liked this, to my eyes, strange boisterous man, even though my meetings with him was at the best fleeting.

Ullswater: Peter's Father

 I only met Peter's father once or maybe twice during his leaves between ships. He was a WW2 ships captain and most of his time was spent at sea but he did make an impression upon me. I'd never met anyone quite like him before. He was a large bluff man who always spoke in a shout and a roar, he would sing, I think they were sea shanties at the top of his voice and he was completely tuneless. If he did something, he did it now and off he would go in a roar. I think he fascinated me, I'd never seen anyone quite like him.
One day Peter rushed down to our house breathless, "have you heard about my Dad"? Apparently Captain Embley decided to go for a walk up the fell and took Peter, they left about 6.30pm. They went up on to Barton fell and Peter showed him were we played and what we did, they made their way along the bottom of Swarth Fell to Swarth Beck. Peter told him about the old abandoned lead mine shaft part way up Swarth fell on the beck's left-hand side. Captain Embley decided to climb up and have a look, which he did but didn't go inside, the entrance was very low and you had to crawl in, and, it was dirty. It was a good view from up there of the lake and the surrounding farms and Peter said his father decided to climb higher and get a better view of where they lived.

Captain Embley climbed up telling Peter to stay where he was, going up alongside the beck was very, very steep with rocks and tussocks of grass, almost vertical in places, the beck coming down in mini waterfalls. He was halfway up Swarth Fell I suppose and the veiw was terriffic. When he decided to come down, he couldn't, it was too steep. Easy going up but it is always harder coming down. He tried and tried to work his way down, Peter said But he could not make it.
He told Peter to go home, he was going to climb up alongside the beck until he reached the top of Swarth Fell and come back along the top of ajoining Barton Fell and then down to their home at Crook-a-dyke. The time was 8.30pm Peter said and he ran home, told his mother what his father said. they sat up a good part of the night wondering how Captain Embley was getting on with his struggle in the dark. I think they were all relieved when they heard a bang and a crash and a roar as Captain Embley came bellowing through the door.

Ullswater: Dreams


Like everyone else I dream. I seldom have bad dreams and I seldom remember my dreams, unless prompted or, dream just before waking. Those I do remember are in the main considerably mixed up. I repeatedly dream of Ullswater, not the lake but the two and a half mile road I used to walk and then later bike to and from school. the various places along the road, the hedgerows, the trees, the long strait past Jimmy Allen's where the Commandos used to practise and Dickie Lowis's farm, his dog that used to wait for me each day from school to chase me on my bike trying to bite the pedals.
I dream of Elder beck and its fish and the big Holly tree at the cross roads, the small very steep hill by Seat farm and the nesting Crows in the very high trees, the trees how I was always trying to work out how to climb and get an egg for my collection and never did.
I also dream of Barton fell and the scree near the Jackdaw cliffs and nearby Hobbley's cave. ( A name I couldn’t remember until I asked my brother John).
Yes, I dream of many things but always when I dream of Ullswater I have a feeling of contentment. Ullswater to me was magic. I loved my Ullswater of those far gone days.

Stolen ammunition
One day when we had finished our lunch at the church hall. as we came out to return to school we saw a small army truck standing outside the nearby Post Office. 2 or 3 older boy's ahead of us were peered into of the the open back of the truck. Inside was ammunition, Very flares, thunder flashes and more. One boy jumped in and grabbed some of the thunderflashes and passed them out to his mates. After a while a shout came from the Post office door and 2 soldiers appeared. The boys grabbed their booty and fled. Later in the afternoon an army officer called at the school and explained what had happened. Miss Patterson brought the officer into the classroom and he made a short speech to the class. In essence he said that if the ammunition was returned nothing more would be said about the matter. In his explanation, he continued there was a war on and everyone was too busy to call in the police and have the culprits charged. I believe the stolen items were quickly returned and no further action was taken.

Cyprus # 3 Ham Radio

OldEric says :-} Shortly after arriving at Ayios Nikolaos, with a large electronics contingent I made enquires to see if there was a Ham club. Yes I was told, but it was in recess, no one was interested but there was one at the nearby army camp. I tracked down the key-holder, explained what I wanted and I got the key and gave the club a look over and was told if I was interested the key could be signed over to me.
The club was housed in a stripped out mobile signals trailer and contained a radio receiver but not a transmitter, a decrepit transmitting aerial was outside. The receiver was a top of the line AR88, I turned on the power and switched on the receiver and it roared into life. I applied for a license to operate quoting my UK license and I was told my application would be accepted but there would be a delay in the permit coming through. So, no transmitter, I decided to purchase one from the UK from a small firm Labgear later to be come much larger. They said shipping would be no problem and the transmitter would be shipped to the port Famagusta in Cyprus.
My license to operate and my call sign ZC4JX duly arrived and I operated from a forces friends home for a while, who was married and lived down in Famagusta who was not qualified but had a transmitter and receiver.
I was duly notified of the shipment date of the transmitter and its estimated arrival date. I checked the shipping each day, the ship arrived and after unloading and passing through customs, I was phoned by the shipping agents that I could collect my consignment. I took a taxi down town collected the packing case from the docks and no way would it fit in the taxi. Not deterred I borrowed a pinch bar, levered off the wooden packing case boards and extracted the transmitter while the taxi meter ticked over. I collapsed the sides of the wooden packing case and stuffed those in the taxi too. I would be wanting the packing case at some future time. Heading back to the camp at Ayios Nikolaos, I was hot to get down to the club and fire the transmitter up. Which I did. The collapsed packing case was safely stored in the back of the club rooms.
Only one other person showed interest in the club but he didn’t come too often. Maybe the many operator personnel had had enough of operating during their shift and didn’t find operating during leisure hours attractive.
There was little recreation during the week in the camp and I found Ham radio a very pleasant relaxation. Many in the camp spent most of the time either in the NAAFI or in the many card schools during the week, in fact among the many shift workers the card schools used to operate 24 hours a day—none stop. Then they had no money to go down town during the weekends.

Bullies

OldEric says :- Another dark and/or controversial subject. The newspapers are often full of bullying reports in schools both here in NZ and overseas. Bullying has always existed both in mental and physical forms. I'm not talking gang related stand over tactics but general bullying, one trying to dominate another bullying.
From experience of 4 schools I attended in the 1940s bullying was generally tolerated by authorities in England as long as it didn't get out of hand. It was tolerated because it was a part of growing up, it was considered as a part of the formation of ones character--it helped to form ones character, to stand on ones feet. Some may say hindered the formation of ones character. I'm inclined to the former. Bullying was tolerated by authorities to help one to learn how to deal with the problems of life both in childhood and most certainly in adulthood. Bullies grow up and in the main bullies do not change their ways, they may change their methods but they still bully if allowed to do so.
I will over the next few days relate 3 stories of bullying and the results during my school years.

Ullswater: Fishing and my Mother.

When we lived at Sharrow Bay in the summer evenings we would sometimes go for a walk with our mother down into the wood and round the lake edge. One of our stopping places was a stone built landing stage for boats now unused. This was the time of WW2 , dig for Victory and exploit any food source lying dormant. One exploited food source by the government was the fish in the lakes of the UK and Ullswater was one of them. Fish traps were placed in the lake and after a day or two a boat with empty fish boxes would visit, haul in the traps, extract the fish, bait and reset the traps. Full boxes were heavy and cumbersome in small boats so the full fish boxes were off loaded at fixed points to be picked up later by a larger boat.

One of the off loading points was our landing stage. Often on our walks 2-3 fish boxes were waiting on the landing stage for pickup along with a sack or two of eels. My mother would open the fish boxes until she found the last box filled and then she would look for live fish, then she would instruct us to take the stronger fish, hold them in the water until they regained their strength and let them go. It was never more than 3 or 4 fish.

Later in life I occasionally would wonder why she did this, she was a farmers daughter and well used to taking and preparing fowl and animals for food. What I do remember is my mother was compassionate. Our male dog Gyp used to wander and often come home worse for wear from fights with the larger local farm dogs, usually torn and bleeding. He always went looking for my mother who after scolding him would drop immediately what she was doing, head for the first aid cupboard and patch Gyp up---still scolding him. She was compassionate with animals.
It never occurred to us to take any of the fish from the boxes. Times differed then in British country life, this was a time when doors could be left open, people as a rule did not usually steal just as it was here in NZ in later bygone years.

A Thought

OldEric says :-) I've been thinking of putting an abbreviated form of my school life on to read, my trials and tribulations in the 1940s and the beginning of the 1950s, so long ago now. Even so abbreviated it will be a little long for one Blog so I would break it up. Up to date the excerpts I have written are of the more pleasant side of life but all lives have their ups and downs and mine was no exception. My trials came mainly in the later years.
So I will try.

Our Saturday Morning

OldEric says :-) We had numerous thunder storms and lightning passing over last night which brought a lot of rain. I disconnected the computer and land lines. I've seen too often the results of power surges. I will be busy on Monday morning I think and work from the storm will trickle in for the next 2 weeks or so. Sun and showers this morning with heavy humidity from the tropicl Pacific. The winds are to change to the SW and bring in a cold front this weekend.
As I look out of the office window it is sunny and the lawn is a carpet of Daisies and looks lovely and the birds are feeding. We have had our seasonal resident Tui calling and feeding on nectar from the bottlebrush shrubs flowers. He is an ungainely bird, irredesent blue black with his white throat feathers showing. His bell like calls are a pleasure to listen to.
Pat is at the church gala this morning helping to raise money for church. I should have been in Hamiton this morning at a philatelic exibition but a dealer I wanted to see is apparently on a trip to South America so I gave the exibition a miss. He will be on a buying expedition and he and his wife are also avid bird watchers (twitchers), business and pleasure, so he will have some exiting tales to tell on his return. He travels world wide and his stories are always interesting. I wish sometimes I could do the same.