Coniston Boating
In the middle decades of the last century there was much public interest in the pursuit of world speed records on land and water. In the UK, the leading pursuers were father and son, Malcolm and Donald Campbell, Donald being the more successful.
In the 1950s and 1960s Donald set several records on land (flat desert terrains in the US or Australia) and on water. Interest was such that sponsorship money from the oil and aerospace industries was forthcoming. Replica toys of his “Bluebird” vehicles were popular (I had one…).
In the course of time, jet engines became the propulsive norm for water vessels and, later cars (too late for Donald, as it turned out). Huge speeds were attained.
In the mid 1960s Donald fixed on Coniston Water in the Lake District as the ideal location for hunting water records. It is long enough (5 miles; 8 kilometres), still enough and, unlike its larger neighbour, Windermere, free of mid-lake islands.
For several years Donald Campbell brought his Bluebirds to the Water, improving his speeds and records. Finally, in January 1967, he came aiming for 300 mph, measured as the average speed over a marked 1-kilometre course.
Donald made one very high speed pass from north to south, falling just short of his goal. He immediately turned Bluebird round and started his second pass, south to north. Bluebird accelerated- and started to lift its nose, beyond its safe parameters. In effect, it began to take off. Something caused the jet engine to stall, flooding perhaps. The sudden de-acceleration made Bluebird rear up and somersault several times backwards before hitting the water and destroying itself and its pilot. (a scary Pathe Newsreel film of the accident is on YouTube.) The body of Campbell and the main Hull of Bluebird were not recovered until nearly 25 years later.
Coniston today remains in its traditional role – a lake for swimming, pleasure yachts, dinghies, rowing boats, kayaks and paddleboards – plus a little tourist steam-paddle boat that plies up and down. On either side steep but mostly small hills rise. Coniston village is the only sizeable settlement on the Water, at the northern end.
Coniston, lightly fictionalised, is the setting for Arthur Ransome’s children’s adventure books, Swallows and Amazons. My grandmother fed me them one by one every Christmas and birthday for a few years. I must have enjoyed them, I suppose; but I remember nothing of them, except that they feature four children and sailing boats.
It is many years since I ventured on water in a small craft. On a recent stay on the shores of Coniston much was on offer – we had the choice of kayaks, paddleboards and rowing boats.
(Yachts, unconnected to our arrangements, were moored on the side of the Water opposite. I thought that they belonged in coastal marinas. What was the point of a relatively large, cabined, sailing boat on a narrow lake only 5 miles long? Unless they served as houseboats – but there was no sign of that.)
We had our afternoon on the water, in two of the rowing boats. These were handsome wooden affairs, propelled by two pairs of oars each. They featured a fairly ornate stern seat for someone to take the rudder – but no rudders were fitted.
After initial clashes of fore and aft oars, we managed a passable rhythm and completed a 4-5 km round trip to little Peel Island (referenced by Donald Campbell in his live radio commentary during his doomed last run). Our speed was at the far end of the spectrum from Bluebird’s, down there with the slower ducks.
I was glad that I had had the foresight to bring gloves for the rowing.
Later, satisfied with our achievement, we sat with our backs against the boathouse wall and watched the magnificent sunset, which a cameraphone rendered as a passable Mark Rothko painting.
August 2024
