Summer Camp

Last week the old man had the opportunity to teach navigation to a group of teenagers.

This would be the ultimate nightmare for some people,  but the old bloke was excited on the way out and euphoric on his return.   He was also exhausted.

ENS is a 16 hour (two,  maybe three,  days) course,  but the officer in charge of the Sea Cadet’s Summer Camp wanted five days.   So the old duffer expanded the course.   And asked for a couple of boats to do some practical work.

The camp is held on a small island linked to the mainland by a causeway.   The small island is home to quite a lot of very senior Royal Navy people,  who carry lots of gold lace on their shoulders and caps.   It makes the volunteers with wavy lace feel a bit nervous,  and it makes the cadets feel very nervous.

The Leading Cadet in charge of the squad marching to and from lunch,  to and from the classroom,  to and from the accommodation ship became so nervous that he failed to salute several senior Royal Marines officers and,  on one occasion,  called “eyes right” when he knew he meant “eyes left”.   He was mortified,  as was one of his officers:  the other,  and the senior Naval people in question,  thought it hilarious.

Do we expect too much of our young people?   That a 15-year-old is in charge of a squad of marching cadets,  on a working Naval base,  under the eyes of Admirals,  is something to be applauded and congratulated.   A few mistakes are to be expected,  smiled at,  and gently corrected.   At least we can recognise their fears and help them overcome.

They are all (volunteers and cadets) housed in an old warship moored close to the island.

‘Housed’ is probably the wrong word:  it implies a degree of comfort and homeliness which the old,  stripped-out warship can’t offer.

The cadet’s quarters are cramped.   While upright and moving they are within a metre or so of other cadets all the time.   While asleep they could (if they could) reach out and link hands with two other cadets (three if they had three arms).   Privacy is available only in the heads:  a blessing not available to sailors in the Age of Sail.

The volunteers have better quarters.   The senior people have individual cabins;  the lesser people (which includes our ancient hero) have six to a cabin with lots of space.

It was unfortunate that half-way through the week a water pipe burst and no more hot water came from any of the taps.   It was even more unfortunate (though temporary) when the officer's heads became blocked.

The navigation course went surprisingly well.

Most of the class had hoped to be shooting,  or sailing,  or power-boating,  or windsurfing,  but,  instead,  they were in a classroom with desks,  chairs,  projectors and PowerPoint.   A bit like school,  really.

But,  after a noisy start,  they buckled down and enjoyed the chartwork.   It was new and fairly exciting.   It opened up a world they hadn’t thought about.   It showed that there was more to moving a boat around than just starting the engine and wiggling the tiller.   These were new skills;  useful skills with even the possibility of interesting careers.

The concept of pilotage;  that the navigator could not simply follow the buoys without a detailed plan;  was exciting and new.   Especially exciting because the plan being worked was for the harbour outside the window.

The Boat Station let them borrow two Champs (with all the appropriate paperwork and signatures,  of course) and the galley had provided bag meals.

What a wonderful evening,  and what a wonderful way to round off a great week.