A LIFEBOAT CALLED "KIWI"

The old and the new, Moelfre July 2013

I've been meaning to write a short piece about the Lifeboat service the RNLI (Royal National Lifeboat Institution) for quite some time now. Every time I go to the seaside I find myself thinking about what an important job they do, and yet, somehow, by the time I get home again, other distractions give me other things to think about, and I find that I've forgotten to do so all over again.

And yet, the RNLI has been a favourite charity for various members of my extended family for quite some years now, and whenever there's an RNLI shop in town, it's always been an habitual required visit which needs to be made so that we can buy a couple of bits of their branded wares and feed a few quid one of their distinctive boat-shaped collecting boxes which will somehow keep one or other of the fleet in operation for a probably little more than a few seconds, given that the charity is almost entirely funded by the public's voluntary contributions.

It's a habit that I've happily joined in with because I realise what an important service they provide despite living in a land-locked county slap-bang in the middle of the country, so now I proudly wear my RNLI branded top and flourish my RNLI pen which will, hopefully, remind a few others about this vital life-saving institution that I think that one or two of us take far too much for granted.

Despite this obvious passion for the job they are doing, for a couple of years now I've been meaning to write a short piece praising them and what they do, but somehow I've never actually sat myself down and done so. This means that, for example, even though I've given a lot of thought to the various shipwrecks of history, and I've commented upon some of the more current maritime incidents as they have occurred in the news, still that RNLI piece has proved ever elusive, and I've never actually written anything about them in these obscure little pages.

Not, of course, that I know much about how they actually go about their business. Until fairly recently, I imagined that they still used to send up maroon flares whenever there's a distress call, like they used to in the books I used to read as a child, but I believe that it's all done by text message now, although I rather romantically hope that the word "maroon" is still kept in the process somewhere, if only for the sake of their long tradition in the service...

"Kiwi" reflecting the golden light of a Moelfre sunset, July 2013

So anyway, when I was on holiday recently and discovered that the little town we choose to go and stay in had acquired a brand new lifeboat this year, upon which one of owners of our preferred guest-house of choice is a proud volunteer, I realised that I finally been presented with an almost perfect opportunity to speak to you about these things, my loyal reader, and write this timely reminder of both the service and its fleet, which goes about its work every day, as we sit around in relative comfort and go on with our daily lives in the secure knowledge that, if we were ever to find ourselves in trouble in or upon the water, we always know that there would be several helping hands out there who would do everything they could, at the risk of their own lives, to come and help us.

Which brings us, of course, to a lifeboat called "Kiwi", the £2.7 Million "Tamar Class" lifeboat introduced at Moelfre on Anglesey this year to replace the previous vessel, the "Robert and Violet" which has not been retired but which has now gone on to perform new life-saving duties at her new home in Lough Swilly in Ireland.

The new vessel is, of course, a thing of beauty, and I took far, far too many pictures of her than was really sensible as she lay moored in Moelfre Harbour during that baking week at the back end of July, because she is just a gorgeous looking boat and, during our stay, she spent many a long hour moored in the bay looking, to all intents and purposes, as if she was watching over the safety of that entire part of the sea and, of course, looking out for all of us.

I don't suppose that it does any harm for the onlookers to see her bobbing quietly away there, either. I'm sure that she serves as a very visual reminder to passing tourists, holiday-makers and locals alike as to the vital nature of the work she does and that, just by seeing her there, one or two more of us might just be reminded to feed those vital collecting boxes simply by having spotted her, or heard her sirens as she heads off on another rescue mission or training exercise.

It's also interesting that the distinctive orange blob of her wheelhouse floating out at sea means that, when she's there, you can easily spot precisely where that little harbour town is on the horizon from pretty much wherever you are on that side of the island, which is kind of comforting too, letting you know where "home" (or, at least, a temporary home from home) is.

Of course, that won't always be the case. A boat can't just sit in the sea all the time without it having some effect upon the vessel itself, and so it needs to spend at least some of its time in "dry dock" so that it can be maintained and properly looked after. The lifeboat station at Moelfre (the new one, not the one pictured above), which housed her predecessor, but which is far too small for the new boat, is in the process of being refurbished over the next two years to house her, but until then she's presumably going to have to lurk at her moorings in the bay, or around the headland at Amlwch if the seas get too rough...

"Kiwi" roars out on a training exercise, July 24th 2013

I watched a training exercise in progress during my recent stay in Moelfre and you do have to admire the dedication of the volunteers who are prepared to dunk themselves time and again into the choppy waters and practice being rescued by their shipmates. Of course, it is rumoured that they actually really enjoy doing that (and I did wonder whether it was actually the same person getting pulled into the inshore rescue boat that they were using because they all looked the same from a distance in their rescue gear), although I imagine that such larks rapidly turn into vital experience when it's the likes of ordinary idiots like you and me that they're dragging out of the water.

Anyway, I don't think anyone would begrudge them taking a bit of pleasure out of the work they do every once in a while, given the risks that they're prepared to take on behalf of others, and the challenging work that they sometimes have to do against the greatest of odds against that most unforgiving of enemies we sometimes call the "cruel sea" for very good reasons.

So, if you feel you can spare it, put a few coins in the RNLI box next time you see one...

You know it makes sense and one day it might just save your life... Especially if you like messing about on the water.