High-country boatic

Press, 24 March 1977, Page 14

High-country boatic

By

SUE LYTOLLIS

Dick Mcßride is very philosophic about his travelling instincts—he puts them down to his ancestry. “My grandmother was Norwegian,” he says, “It’s the Viking in me.”

And true to his instincts, this Twizel contractor will visit distant lands . . . in his own boat.

No ordinarj’ boat mind you, but his own 14-tonne, 12.5 m steel ketch. “I think a man will make only one boat in his lifetime,” he says, “and I may as well make one I really want.’’ Dick Mcßride’s “once in a lifetime” boat has taken him over 1000 hours of designing, constructing and welding — all down at Twizel, far from the sound of the sea.

His building is done in a few- spare hours after work and on week-ends. He estimates that another two more years of similar effort will be needed before the ketch is completed. “I have designed her for ultimate seaworthiness, and speed,”—the Viking in him

(was just beginning to show—l I “and the steel hull will be! necessary for navigating ini cold seas.” Like his ancestors, Dick! Mcßride intends to sail his I ketch, by sextant and stars, to Greenland, Iceland and Europe. He has an obvious love for the cold lands. It stems from a 13-month stint as a photographer in the Antarctic with the D.S.IR.

“People don’t know now beautiful the South Pole is,” he says; “It is full of light, colour and shade. If you like the starkness of nature at its fullest, you’ll like the Antarctic.” Dick Mcßride looks the typical sailor with his full red beard and curled pipe. His knowledge has been acquired through countless books, a few fishing boats, and conversations with as many old sailors as he can find.

He does a lot of dreaming as he works. “I reached the stage in my life when there was nothing'else I wanted to do but sail around the world.

A boat to me represents t ultimate freedom, to be abl to go where 1 want to go, an< stop whe- I want to stop.”

I How long he will ride th< waves is uncertain. He just wants to sail, work and take photographs in a foreign land, and leave it on a craft that gives him the time to reflect, in words, the things he experiences.

These are the plans he dreams of as he comes to terms with the problems involved in building a 14-tonne ketch.

He looks at the black shell, Iwith the Southern Alps silhouetted behind it, and describes the finished boat as having an interior of solid timber with enough room to accommodate three members. With the sacrifice Of a few luxuries, the cost of the ketch will not exceed $15,000. The colour? Red. “White is too hard to clean, blue is too common, and green is bad luck for boats, and anywav. I’ve always wanted a red boat.”