Hodder's Heroes.
The Seventies
 and
 Early Eighties

 

From 1914 to 1945 the famous Walter Abbott served the community of Lyme Regis as Town Crier and Lifeboatman until the R.A.F. Air Sea Rescue Station opened in 1938.

Walter unfortunately died and was unable to witness the reopening of the station in 1967. However his fellow crewmen from the old sailing and rowing days, Tom Gollop, Jack Curtis, Sam Curtis, Ern Boalch, Percy Roper and Will Curtis all applauded loudly on 10th June 1967 when the MP for West Dorset, Mr. Simon Wingfield Digby accompanied by Mr. Ken Gollop who had been the prime mover for the re-opening of the station finally cut the ribbon, officially opening the building that had taken the voluntary workers several months to build. It was a proud moment for Nobby Clarke, Lionel Hodder, Tony Archer-Thompson, Dave Hallett, Lionel Fisher and their friends who had helped to make the dream a reality.

As Lyme's Town Crier I feel privileged to follow in the footsteps of such an illustrious character as Walter Abbott. However unlike him I had already completed my R.N.L.I. Service when I took up the Bell in 1977.

In 1970 as landlord of the Cobb Arms, I soon came to know the members of the crew, and it wasn't long before an invitation was given to join the R.N.L.I. After several months of regular training, I was accepted into the regular crew, under the watchful eye of the three times Bronze Medal Winner, Mr. John Hodder. We all became known affectionately as "Hodder's Heroes".

The R.N.L.I. Lifeboat service is a serious business, however there are occasions when the funny side of a situation can cause gales of laughter. The 'Do You Remember Syndrome', is enjoyed generally only by those who were there at the time. It seems appropriate at this twenty-five year celebration to record some of the funny things that happened, perhaps in the middle of hazardous situations.

       My introduction to the service was aboard the Dell Quay Dory R.N.L.I. 17-002 a cathedral hulled fibre glass rescue boat, with a central helmsman's console. The crew rode each side with a guard rail at about hip level; after a couple of hours on call, with your hip being banged by the rail with each wave, you could hardly walk for a week. This boat was kindly donated by the Eyres family. When the "Atlantic 21" replaced it in the early 70s the crew became more comfortable, as they all had a seat, but the new boat was much faster. She had the rather unique quality of being able to be beached at full speed. This caused several exciting moments especially at practice time. On one occasion it was decided to try her out at Cobb Gate. A perfect approach was achieved, however no one had taken into account the effect of the small round pebbles on the shiny fibre glass hull, and the boat slid rapidly up the beach and bounced into the car park, leaving a very red faced crew stranded on dry land. Fortunately there seemed to be little or no visible damage to the boat. With a struggle she was relaunched. A couple of weeks later it was my duty to check the stop cocks in the hull. When I opened them a massive stream of liquid flowed out: It was pure petrol. The impact had damaged the internal fuel tanks, and the boat was a veritable floating bomb. We all had a lucky escape that day.                                                       

The beaching method was used for real, a couple of months later, when a man was cut off by the tide near Golden Cap. The technique is to approach the beach with power on, ride in on the back of a wave and cut the engines, which are then lifted by the two crew men. We were coming in fine. Unfortunately the helmsman misjudged  the large wave, and decided to swing the boat about and try again. I was stationed on one engine, Graham Turner on the other. The boat was picked up on the wave, and we were violently thrown sideways. Graham was now vertically above me, he lost his grip and fell heavily on me, knocking me off my engine. I put my foot on the side of the boat to stop myself being thrown out. At this moment the boat righted, the air filled rubber sponson catapulted me like a trampolene, and miraculously I landed upright on the beach, completely clear of the water. The boat was now going back through the surf out to sea. The casualty took two steps towards me and said, "Gosh that was clever!" I was still in shock, especially as I had just missed being killed by inches. I responded, "Oh yes, its good isn't it. We practice the technique regularly!" The boat then came back on one engine and completed the rescue.                                     

On another occasion we were called at about 11.30 p.m. to the piers at West Bay ; a young lad had fallen from the end in the dark. Unfortunately we were unable to find him, he had drowned. We searched till about 4.30 a.m., when we decided to move on the Eastern Pier and came ashore, where we were met by a couple of Coastguards, and a couple of Policemen. Having been in the boat all night I needed to relieve myself, and I indicated this to the Police Officer near me. He made no comment. I looked around, but could see nowhere to go in private. As needs must, I undid the life jacket and waders, which is not easy, and proceeded to complete my intentions, going over the pier into the water. This caused great merriment among the rest of the crew, who were doubled up with laughter. I then looked at my Police companion to see what was so funny. She was laughing as well. She didn't say a word, but I bet she still laughs about it as I do.

       The arrival of the District Inspector of the R.N.L.I. has always been greeted with some trepidation, as everything has to be ship shape and Bristol fashion. Commander Porchmouth R.N. was due at about 2.30 p.m. to take the boat out for sea trials. The tide would be out at this time so it was decided to launch the boat in the morning, moor it at the end of the Victoria Pier in order to avoid a long push across the sand. Myself and another crewman were dressed in the full seagoing gear; the D.I. only put on his anorak and short waders. We all walked across the sand, me in front, then into the two or three feet of water. Suddenly behind me is a loud splash. The D.I. was swimming. He had fallen over one of John Wason's discarded lobster pots, and the poor D.I. spent a miserable afternoon soaking wet. He didn't have much luck in Lyme, as later in the year he decided to sit in on an R.N.L.I. display during Lifeboat Week. He was sitting on the sponson, when John Hodder was doing one of his fast runs towards the North Wall, a quick turn and back out to sea, sending spray over the spectators on the wall. At the turn, the D.I. fell out and had to be rescued. He always said he did it on purpose to make the show more spectacular, but we all knew better.

At this time I owned a small cabin cruiser, the "MERRY MOLE", and occasionally I took it to Brixham or Dartmouth. When the new Arun Class lifeboat was delivered to Brixham we decided to go down and see her. The Coxswain showed us proudly over her. He permitted us to use a mooring next to this lovely craft for the night. At about 1.30 a.m. the Maroons went up. I thought I was at home, jumped out of bed, and smashed my head on the bulkhead. Marilyn my wife saw the lifeboat leave her mooring. I was unconscious.

Lyme Regis Lifeboat has been called on to perform many duties during its history. In 1974 we brought Father Christmas ashore to give presents to the handicapped children from the Cheshire Home; it was also filmed by the Magpie T.V. Programme. We had just completed the task when the maroons were fired. I, a crew man, still in the Father Christmas suit, was called to a trawler which had lost its propeller. When we pulled alongside, the crew were rather surprised to be told by Father Christmas, "We have brought your turkey".

In the early '70s fundraising was a priority of the Lifeboat Crew, especially as in those days they had to raise the money to supply the station needs. This caused the crew to become high profit members of the fund raising team. My experience as an organiser of Folk Festivals before coming to Lyme was now put to good use to develop Lifeboat Week to an event that is now recognised as one of the big weeks in the year at Lyme. The week was organised in those days by the Lyme Regis Lifeboat Supporters Club. We persuaded many of the services display teams to support us. The R.A.F. Red Arrows came each year until 1989. The Army Blue Eagles came with their Sioux Helicopters and even landed five in line on the North Wall, a sight I am sure will never be repeated. Rothmans' Acrobatic Team, the Robins R.A.F. Free Fall Parachutists, Veteran and Vintage Cars, Naval Vessels, Hang Gliders, Hot Air Balloons, and Raft Races all brought large crowds, as did the introduction of "Conger Coddling", "Dwile Flonking", Nautical Tug of War, Barbecues, Firework Displays and Balls, all helping to make Lyme Regis Lifeboat Week such a success.

All in all, being a member of the Lifeboat Crew was one of the great privileges of my life, which was highlighted in 1974 when the crew was invited to a Garden Party at Buckingham Palace which was a wonderful day for us all.

I would like to conclude by congratulating and thanking all the people who have helped to create these memories of twenty five years of the station especially those who made up the crew of the Seventies and early Eighties. Major General Dick Jelf, Peter Gill, John Hodder, Tim Zair, Colin Jones, Graham Turner, Stan Williams, Peter Turner, Paul Wason, Gary Postles, Brian Miller, Chris Woodbridge, John Chase, Ken Gollop, Jim Moseley, Brian Hayball, Ron Higgs, Skippy, Tony Archer-Thompson, Dr. Bob Bowles, Nobby Clarke, Dave Hallett, Mack Sewell, Ron Crabb and others who all made up the proud "Hodder's Heroes".                   

                      Richard J. Fox, MBE, Crewman and Lifeboat Week Organiser, 1971-76


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