OBITUARIES

Peter Rose

Peter had a very independent mind, a sense of adventure and an intense curiosity to see what was beyond the horizon. He was incredibly happy at sea and on his long trips he dreaded the prospect of being on land again, with all the rules and regulations, paperwork and officialdom.

Many of you will have read LITTLE BOATS v SMALLER BOATS in Flying Fish 1998/2. Peter’s three boats were all gaff cutters called Odd Times. The first Odd Times he bought in 1961 – she was a 23ft day fishing boat from the Thames Estuary. He made his first Atlantic crossing from Las Palmas to Barbados in her in 1965, but unfortunately lost her on his way back to England in July 1967.

We were married in December 1967 when the second Odd Times, designed by John Leather, was already being built to our specifications in Ian Brown’s Yard at Rowhedge. As permanent crew I was entitled to a few more feet – the ‘big’ Odd Times was 37ft. We left in August 1968 and crossed from Madeira to Cayenne in French Guyana – Sailing Through America (Adlard Coles Ltd, 1971) records our trip. The most marvellous sailing area was Georgian Bay, in the North of Lake Huron. The most dangerous part of the trip was going down the Mississippi.

After we sailed back to England via Bermuda and the Azores, Peter went straight on to Theology College in Canterbury, and was ordained as a priest in the Church of England in 1973. We eventually bought a Tamarisk, hardly bigger than the first Odd Times and very spartan. When Peter went to parishes in Cornwall we would sail every summer to Brittany – exploring the Brittany coast was always a delight.

Peter’s curiosity and sense of adventure were also of a spiritual kind, and he would communicate this desire for exploration to others. Always enquiring and crossing boundaries, he had the gift of helping people to ask the right questions to enable them to move forward. His faith was deeply anchored in his daily life – he hated pomposity, and his sense of humour would very often bring things down to earth. A very good listener and remarkable navigator, he helped many to find their way when they were totally lost in the fog.

Peter, who had a brain tumour, was ill for a year and died at home in Dieppe on 30 May 2001 at the age of 70. According to his wish, his ashes were dispersed at sea.

He has sailed beyond the horizon, now he has got all the answers.

Monique Rose

Joy Lyne

Joy Lyne died in April of this year aged 79, after many years battling a heart condition which had put an end to serious sailing twenty years before. She joined the OCC in 1986, her qualifying voyage being across the Atlantic in Aries of Anglia, but she had sailed all her life.

Joy joined the Navy at the outbreak of war whilst still a teenager, and served as a Wren Signals Officer throughout. During the early war years she met Michael, then a young Spitfire pilot, and they were married in 1942. After the war she followed Michael in his RAF career, including a tour in Moscow as Air Attaché. She brought up four children, one of whom is now British Ambassador to Moscow, and still found time to gain a Private Pilot’s Licence in her 40s.

Michael retired early as an Air Vice Marshal and they moved to Lincoln – not the best sailing country – but they had a series of boats which they kept at Woodbridge. In their first ‘cruising’ boat, a Mirror Offshore, they crossed the North Sea to Flushing and returned via Deal to visit the beach where Michael had crash-landed his Spitfire when shot down defending the Dunkirk retreat. A series of Westerlys followed, in which they cruised around the whole of the UK and as far afield as Finland.

This was a prelude to real offshore sailing. and they set off on the ‘milk run’ in 1979 in Aries of Anglia, a Westerly GK29. Whilst in the Bahamas they got embayed on a lee shore in a severe gale and clawed off throughout the night, only just holding their own. Unfortunately their plans were curtailed when Joy developed a heart condition whilst on a visit back to England, necessitating the sale of Aries in the States. She had a successful bypass, but then suffered a stroke. It then became a competition between her and Michael as to who had the most bypasses, but this did not stop her holding a senior post with the Girl Guides and working on several East Anglian health committees.

Joy and Michael sailed small boats long distances, exemplifying the spirit of the Club.

Tony Vasey

David Burrows

David slipped his anchor peacefully on 30 March, at the age of 88. He was more than happy to sail off after three years of failing health. For someone whose business life and leisure time were spent at a flat out rate, you can guess the frustration. Wow! Well as my younger family and I agree, by now he’s sailing something that handles well in an astral Force 10. And if anything goes wrong at the top of the mast he’ll be up there in the bosun’s chair sorting it out personally – and yelling instructions to the character at the foot of the mast! No waiting to pull in for a pit stop for him. He was so delighted all those years ago when he qualified for the OCC – in 1974 on passage from Malta to Haifa, Israel, aboard the 34ft Haval, and thoroughly enjoyed reading the Club’s literature.

Kathleen Burrows

Captain Nigel John Pearson, RN

It was just over two years ago that Nigel was introduced to me by Howard Gosling, another fellow OS (Old Sherburnian). He had retired recently and, having sailed dinghies and keelboats from an early age, was wanting to go sailing offshore. From the outset we got on extremely well – without a doubt his many years in the Royal Navy had taught him to suffer fools gladly! He had a delightfully dry sense of humour and enjoyed a bit of mischief. His desire to do a qualifying passage (with the logs, astro calculations et al) necessary for the Yachtmaster Ocean ticket resulted in him joining Edain for the passage from Virgin Gorda to Charleston. This also qualified him for membership of the OCC, of which he was very proud.

Nigel had been an engineer during his service career, and always seemed happiest when making or installing things or tackling problems – be they electrical, mechanical, mathematical, radio, or navigational. He had vast knowledge and an analytical mind, two attributes which proved invaluable during our time together. I have it on good authority that during his time at Sherborne (and subsequently in the Navy) Nigel developed the knack of being able to acquire that one last item needed to finish a job. It never failed to amaze me how he would disappear ashore and return with the seemingly unobtainable – that little bit of kit / line / equipment / you name it which was just the bit wanted to make life easier. And if it was ‘free’, well that was a bonus which made his day.

One of Nigel’s Navy appointments had been as a member of the Admiralty Interview Board, and he took immense interest in the hopes and aspirations of young people and their careers. He loved to explain, teach and encourage, and was always keen to step aside and let the youngsters have a go. His willingness in this sphere was not just confined to the young – I certainly benefited from it. And to the extent he taught me (which he certainly did) it was with such a delicate touch that I never realised it. The only time I was aware of the smallest hint of criticism was after we had felt our way up the unlit channel to the Town Quay at Beaufort, North Carolina at night, after which he very gently and quietly said that he thought he would have dropped a hook at the entrance and waited for two or three hours until we could see. We had been lucky not to ground and we both knew it. No, he never offered his opinion unless it was asked for, but it was certainly worthwhile when it was given.

We covered several thousand sea miles together and nattered in the cockpit over innumerable coffees and cigarettes (Nigel was tee-total but smoked almost non-stop). Our conversations covered all sorts of subjects and his pride in his children was immense. But he could not bring himself to unburden himself about his personal problems and it was tragic that in a sudden fit of bleak despair he took his own life. I never saw him act incautiously or over-hastily before.

Michael Rearden