Another Wartime Holiday, but no bus! Options

[dugald]

In 1943 I set off again on another wartime holiday. Once again the destination was Campbeltown, but this time there was no big red "McBrayne's for the Highlands" bus, this time I was going by bicycle. The distance by road to this small town at the foot of the Argyll peninsula is 137 tough miles, and at this time I could not have cycled such a distance. It was my intention to make use of David McBrayne's other transportation monopoly, his steamer. In 1943 there was a submarine boom across the Firth of Clyde from the Cloch lighthouse over to Dunoon, consequently pleasure steamers sailed only on either the north or south side of the boom. It was my intention to ride the 30 miles or so from Govan down to Wemyss Bay on the south side of the boom, get the steamer from there to Tarbert , Loch Fyne, then cycle the 37 hilly miles from there to Campbeltown.

I was undaunted by the thoughts of undertaking this somewhat demanding ride on my own, but I was concerned with the possibility of my getting a puncture. I had been shown how to fix one, but I wasn't sure I could handle putting the tyre back on again. Because of this I decided to leave very early and give myself lots of time just in case I punctured. I cycled out of Govan at 5 am to catch the steamer which left about 11 am...6 hours for a 30 mile ride!

The roads were dead quiet and the weather very cool as I pottered through Renfrew and Inchinnen. I always had my eye peeled for interesting signs of the war, but aside from the smoke-genrating gadgets and the massive concrete road blocks at the wee church by the River Cart, there was nothing of interest. The ruins of the hot houses at the Inchinnan hill, where I'd managed to cut a strip off a green silk German parachute that had carried the land mine which blew up the glass houses, were still visible. At West Ferry, opposite the Dumbarton Rock, I stopped and had a look at the bombed ruins of the isolated building that still cluttered the entrance to the camp site where, earlier in the war, I had spent an enjoyable camping holiday.

Cycling through Port Glasgow and Greenock there was much evidence of the heavy bombing this part of Clydeside had suffered in 1941. Approaching the docks at the custom house in Greenock the road was closed by civilian and military police and I had to follow a diversion through the centre of the city. I didn't find out why the road was closed but it was obvious that whatever it was involved a large number of military vehicles. Past the detour at the west end of Greenock I decided to go down onto the road right beside the Clyde to see what was there.

Looking out over the hazy water the first sight was the superstructure sticking out of the water, of the French destroyer that had torpedoed itself in 1940 and killed four French sailors, but I had seen this many times. This was still very early in the morning and yet out in the misty water one could see dozens of big ships with tenders scurrying among them. Perhaps they had been bringing soldiers into Greenock and that was why the road had been closed, but I couldn't be sure.

I passed the torpedo factory and headed into Gourock. I stopped at the big fancy hotel at the head of the Gourock pier for a rest. The hotel had been taken over by the Americans and there were white-helmeted guards standing at the entrance. One of the guards came over and spoke to me and we had a friendly chat for a few minutes. He was a sailor from New York city and let me know that he had been in Gourock far too long (although he told me this much more expressively!). He asked me to get him a newspaper in the station. At this early hour I thought it was too early, but I managed and he gave me a bar of Hersheys chocolate.

I pottered round the Gourock esplanade, admiring the galaxy of merchant and naval ships visible through the mist at the Tail o' the Bank, past the Cloch lighthouse. It was still only about 7 o'clock and since I was getting hungry I stopped at the caves at Lunderston Bay, lit a fire, and had a drum up. The short ride over the wee hill and through Inverkip brought me to the Wemyss Bay pier, whence the McBrayne's steamer, the MV Lochfyne, sailed for Tarbert, Loch Fyne. I was there about three hours before the boat was due to sail!

There was a thick mist over the water as the steamer cast off and set sail for Rothesay. In no time we were tied up at the pier in Rothesay and lots of Royal Navy sailors disembarked. No doubt many of these sailors were heading to HMS Cyclops, the big submarine depot ship sitting out in Rothesay Bay with a shoal of submarines secured at each of her sides.

From Rothesay we sailed through the Kyles of Bute, beautiful even when shrouded in mist. We stopped at the next pier, Tighnabruich , only long enough to disembark a few servicemen going on leave. From this sleepy village the steamer ploughed its way round Ardlamont Point and steered over to the western shore of Loch Fyne heading up to Tarbert, where all passengers, mostly serviceman, got off.

It was about 1pm when I set off to cover the remaining 37 miles of my journey to the wee town at the foot of the Mull o' Kintyre. I had a tail wind and it was a veritable breeze all the way there. At about 4pm I was riding up the High Street absolutely delighted with myself at having ridden on a bicycle from Govan to Campbeltown.

Oops, there is one thing I have omitted to mention. To be truthful though, it is actually the raisons d'être for this posting. While waiting at Weymss Bay I sat at the end of the pier looking out over the water, daydreaming, with my legs dangling over the side. It was a quiet and sunny morning, with a high tide, and a veil of mist suspended above the water. Shortly I heard the sound of throbbing engines and out over the water, heading upstream, a pair of destroyers appeared thrashing through the choppy waves. This was not an uncommon sight, but what made this pair different was the speed at which they were galloping over the waves. I knew immediately that something was going on.

For a short while after the departure of the destroyers nought was to be heard save for the cawing of the gulls and the rush of the waves lapping against the pier, a tranquility after the rush of the two destroyers. While sitting here at the end of the pier looking over the water on this hazy sunny morning I heard a dull rythmic, thrump, thrump, thrump, vibrating across the water. My eyes searched downstream from where the sound came but in vain, nothing was in sight. But the thrumping continued, and after a short time a great, gray, cathedral-like structure started to grow before my eyes, ploughing its way purposely through the misty waters.

As the distance diminished this mist-shrouded giant shape fashioned itself into a ship, a ship of leviathan proportions. Two gigantic funnels stood like towers behind a massive bridge atop a long, long, hull which sat high in the water and all, from bow to stern, a sinister gray colour. This was indeed a structure gigantic in every respect, a ship of unbelievable size. And, as she passed not far offshore before me, the thrumping of her engines increased enormously to a volume of great intensity as they drove this colossus through the Clyde waters.

Despite the sunlit haze the setting of the scene was not without beauty. This was clearly a ship shaped to please the eye and streamlined to slice the heaviest of weather. Her great masts and funnels were raked steeply astern, and while she stood enormous, she sailed through the Clyde waters like a yacht. I was looking, in deep awe, at the greatest liner in the world, nearly 84000 tons of it. It was the RMS Queen Elizabeth, built at Clydebank on the Clyde. ( Since first writing this, I have been questioned as to how I knew the ship was the 'Queen Elizabeth', and I can't give an answer other than it looked like pictures I had seen of her).

While I had been watching this magnificent ship a small crowd had gathered and there was a man with a telescope. He gave us a running commentary of what he could see. According to him the ship was packed to the gunwales with soldiers. This big ship could carry a complete army division consisting of some 15,000 troops plus its equipment! All of her decks were crowded with soldiers standing at the rails, hanging on the rigging. He could not tell us the nationality of the soldiers, but the likelihood was that they were American or Canadian. But who knows, maybe it was Scotland's own 51st Highland Division coming home from Italy for the invasion.

The sight of this great Clyde-built ship was not the only reason that made this holiday so memorable; there was another reason... I wore long trousers for the first time in my life when I stepped out on the town that night.

[RonD]

A great story Dugald, nicely related, you must have felt like a man of the world!!!

[dugald]

Thanks for your kind words Ron. Yes, I still recall how i felt that night. I was really chuffed at having ridden to C/town on a bicycle. On top of that, I was wearing long trousers and, just as my father told me, everybody wasn't laughing at me!
Cheers, Dugald.

[jock]

Well-told dugald. I had the thrill of seeing both the Queen Elizabeth and the Queen Mary at anchor in the same area you described , behind the submarine gates. One didn't need names to identify these ships. Because of their speed they each traveled alone across the Atlantic bringing American army divisions from the U.S. to Gourock. I saw them when making the trip to boy scout camps outside of Dunoon.
Interestingly, I emigrated to the U.S. aboard the Queen Mary in 1948. She is now owned by the City of Long Beach, California and is permanently tied up about 30 minutes from my home. I have attended many, many functions aboard her, including my own retirement dinner/dance. Each morning the Queen is is used as background by one of the major TV stations when the weather forecasts are given.

[dugald]

Hello Jock, thanks for your comment. You witnessed a sight that hasn't happened very often--seeing, at anchor, at the same time, the two giant Cunarders. I'd have enjoyed that sight! I did see the 'Elizabeth', the 'Isle de France', and, would you believe, HMS Vanguard, all anchored at Gourock in March 1945.

And, imagine having one's own retirement 'do' on the "Queen Mary"--even the landlocked one! When I emigrated in 1952 I had tried for a passage on either of the Queens , but it would have meant waiting about a year. I settled for a berth on a small Greek tramp steamer, the "Canberra", and spent ten days crawling across the Atlantic.

Yes, these two Clydebank giant Cunarders were quite readily recognized, although I myself wasn't too sure if the ship that 'flew' past us at Wemyss Bay was indeed the "Elizabeth". I knew our Clyde ships well, but there was a fair bit of mist that morning, and I had, recently, seen several big two-funnel liners anchored at the Tail o' the Bank.

Cheers, Dugald.

[Avril]

I have just had a novel about Glasgow published. The story starts in Possilpark in 1950 with 2 year old Linda Macgregor. It traces back to her grandparents then tells the romantic love story of her parents during the second world war. It also takes in trips 'Doon the Watter' from the Broomielaw to Rothesay, over the Forth Rail Bridge to Fife, Ruchill, Maryhill (including Jaconelli's cafe), Milton, Springburn, Glasgow City Centre and many other areas of Glasgow. When I was little in the 1950's, I listened to my parents, aunts and uncles talking about the good and bad times during the war and 'the olden days'. This has inspired me to do more research and write this tale about a fiction family growing up in Glasgow during these times. In true Glasgow fashion the humour shines through, even when times are tough! The book is called 'What's For Ye, Won't Go By Ye' (By Avril Dalziel Saunders) ISBN:1-84667-013-6. It is selling well all over the world and exceptionally well in Canada.

[backcauseway]

I recall goimng on holiday to Rothsay in July 1943. Not really a holiday more like going to stay with family friends. There were troops excersing with bren gun carriers and I got a wee "hurll on the front from some of them in one of the carriers. I was told not to fire "the gun" as it had live ammo in it. Probably it did not. There was also a big submarine tender was it "Maidstone"? plus some subs alongside which I went out to a few times in a rowing boat with some pals! I recall the army MPs getting involved in a fight in one of the cafes when some soldiers and sailors had a "wee" rumpus over some local girls. All the army guys got nicked as the navy shore patrol were not about. So the sailors got the girls in the end.