Cowes Horizons

Posted on by Vincent
Cowes Railway station as it was in 1963. In 1955 I sometimes went to school on it. The carriages are pulled by a small steam locomotive (photo from Geographia)

In process of being restored

When you live in East Cowes, your attention is drawn to horizons. Boats are constantly coming and going. All kinds: ferries, tankers, container ships, yachts, dinghies, powerboats, even fishing vessels perhaps. And it’s not just the visual movement that draws your attention to far away.

The first evening, when we had set up the tent, and we heard the sound of the high tide slapping against the concrete of the esplanade, there was a more distant noise, coming from afar, from West Cowes, across the estuary. I was excited for it sounded just like a steam engine: pistons panting, couplings rattling, steam hissing. How could this be? There wasn’t even a railway station any more, though I’d taken the train to Newport a few times to school, and it was a precious rare railway journey in rolling stock that was ancient even then, with framed pictures of old seaside resorts in Devon and the Cornish Riviera.

There was a rhythm to the noise and the sounds of revelry. It must have been a procession of drummers in the street, in Cowes itself. You can say West Cowes in certain circumstances, for example to say you took the chain ferry to West Cowes. But Cowes is Cowes and East Cowes is the other side. Yes, it was drummers, massed, marching in carnival, no other instruments. Not Boys Brigade, not military: more Brazilian, more samba, rhythms echoing off the wharves and shipyards. Like a child sent to bed early, I lay on my bed in the tent, wanting to be out, to run to the drums. But the Medina estuary lay between us and I would have to wait for the chain ferry and then by the time I got there the drums would have stopped. Except that they went on for a long time, and I just lay there.

In the morning we took the chain ferry across. It’s also called the Floating Bridge and is probably the same one that I used to go on back in the Fifties; but they have tarted up the place where the pedestrians sit. They’ve provided some rather surreal poems and collages to look at, produced by schoolchildren or local adults:

I amused myself by adding another layer: the reflections on the glass of the scene outside:

 

And amongst the modern yachts in a race there was also this old ketch. The crew was slowly pulling up the sail
Here’s a more prosaic image, showing a container ship loaded up. Perhaps it is things for the Island

 

another container ship: OOCL Belgium, registered in Hong Kong. Two yachts neck and neck in the foreground, Fawley Oil Refinery in the background, on the mainland:

 

Fawley oil refinery on the mainland

14 thoughts on “Cowes Horizons”

  1. Vincent, I envy you, sleeping in a tent like that, near the waters and towns, wish I could spend some time, rightly of course, doing that, and casually spending the days in the environs of the camp. I lived that way permanently for a long time, more than once around the country.

    I lived on Vashon Island, long ago, ferried everyday back and forth to mainland Tacoma Washington State. I get nostalgic seeing the Ferry inside, memory floods, mine was often crowded and busy, a joy that didn't get old.

    I like the abstract you made with the added layer to the collaged window, very modern and intelligent looking, art museum stuff. Good work!

    The desktop piece almost brings a name to mind, an English painter, just so balanced and accented, really a work of art in its own right. I think it starts with a C, that is his last name.

    The next to last, with the dark foreground area, rusty like, aged but solid and strong, against the atmospheric mistyness and wet view out over the water and in the sky, love it, very moody and attracting to me, like Picasso said about some of his work, 'can't you just smell it?', and you almost can, communication, spirit, tension between it and me, wants to fulfill itself with me, I want to let it.

    Wonderful work, great trip, I enjoyed every minute of it, want to go again, lol! Thanks Vincent, excellent post!

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  3. Jim I wonder who that artist was. John Constable springs to mind.

    Funny you should say “Can't you just smell it?” The smell from the beach where we camped is pretty bad. An acre of seaweed at low tide, rotting.

    I realized yesterday that the smell is not specific to what is rotting but to the rotting agent. I had been attempting to make compost in a large municipal bin provided for the collection of garden and kitchen food waste: all recyclable organic stuff. I would sprinkle some special compost-encouraging granules at regular intervals, but it didn't smell good when I opened the lid. Discovered yesterday that it is waterlogged and it smelt like a) the sludge from drains b) a pond of slurry from a cattle farm when they have kept the animals in sheds for the winter c) the beach at East Cowes (but a lot worse). The agent must be anaerobic bacilli.

    So, Picasso was right anyhow.

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  7. My life has been too full, as of late, to stop and capture much of it in the way you have routinely done.

    I have to rely on my memory. Which has become less and less reliable.

    I always enjoy your posts, but this type, along with the re-telling of your past, are my favorites.

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  9. odd, really, have no idea of the “timescale” in this series of pics .. but it was the “rolling front” clouds in pic 5? that bothered me .. ah well, once a sailor, always a sailor .. heh.

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  11. Davo, the pics were not taken in the order as shown. No storm or adverse weather developed, in case that was what you were suggesting. International maritime law? Yes, I believe you have hinted on your blog at being a yachtsman yourself.

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  14. Wayfarer Scientista, the award must be still sitting on your shelf awaiting collection. Sorry i did not follow the instructions and nominate others in the requested manner. But appreciate it all the same.

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