Christopher Nicholson’s on Britain’s last coalfired paddle steamer
BRITAIN’S first paddle steamer – the PS Comet – was first seen in 1811 on the River Clyde, but the heyday of these vessels wasn’t until the 1920s and 30s, when they became a popular summer attraction all around our coasts.
From the west coast of Scotland down through the Irish Sea and the Bristol Channel to the south coast of England, then up to the Thames and Humber estuaries, the biggest paddle steamers carried up to a thousand passengers at a time on an exciting tour along
Britain’s coasts.
Hundreds of steamers were built, the last one in 1953, and sadly hundreds of them were scrapped. Today, there are only two working British paddle steamers.
One is the PS Waverley, about which much has already been written, and the other is the PS Kingswear Castle, the only coal-fired paddle steamer operational in Britain today ( Waverley is oil fired).
You can still enjoy a ride aboard this historic vessel along the picturesque River Dart in Devon – the river upon which she was built.
Kingswear Castle was one of a trio of paddle steamers manufactured by Philip and Son at Dartmouth in 1924.
Her engines were even older, salvaged from a vessel built in 1904 – eight years before the
Titantic sank!
For the next 41 years,
Kingswear Castle plied between Dartmouth and Totnes, sometimes with 500 passengers on board, until being withdrawn in 1965 and replaced by the more economical and faster diesel-engine, propeller-driven ferries.
In 1967 the Paddle
Steamer Preservation Society saved her from the breaker’s yard at a cost of £600, and moved her to Chatham in Kent.
They spent 15 painstaking years restoring her to her former glory.
She gave river trips up and down the Medway for the next 28 years before a welcome and most appropriate return to her home waters of the River Dart in 2013.
After an absence of 47 years, she resumed the service that she was built for.
She now fills her summer seasons taking holidaymakers on a nostalgic hour-and-a-quarter-long harbour cruise or the occasional trip to Totnes if the tide is right.
The harbour cruises take Kingswear Castle past her namesake, the actual Kingswear Castle, as she makes her turn at the mouth of the river.
With her pristine paintwork gleaming, she attracts many admiring glances as she sweeps silently along the river at Dartmouth.
It’s a trip I’ve made many times since her return to the Dart.
On one memorable occasion I was invited on to the bridge by Captain Richard Swinglehurst and then down below into the engine room by engineer Nigel Thomas.
The bridge has all the original equipment from 1924 (wooden wheel, brass telegraph and ship’s compass, etc.) but has now been fitted with a few modern electronic extras such as a satnav showing our position and speed on the river!
Below decks, Nigel showed me the huge boiler which still has to be fired and cleaned out by hand, and the two-cylinder reciprocating engine that drives the 10ft paddle wheels at eight knots – all immaculately painted and maintained.
If you ever find yourself in Dartmouth in the summer, a trip aboard the “KC” is an unforgettable experience.
The commentary is informative and humorous, the scenery you pass is delightful and the experience will probably be the highlight of your holiday. Try it – you won’t regret it!
Christopher Nicholson takes a trip on Britain’s only remaining coal-fired paddle steamer.
IWRIGGLED on the wooden chair, trying to make myself more comfortable while I took surreptitious looks at the other customers. The feeling of anticipation I’d had all morning was rapidly draining away.
None of them resembled the man I was supposed to be meeting and most of them were couples.
There was just one woman on her own with a buggy and a group of three women together, all laughing over something.
I felt very conspicuous. As if I had no good reason to be there.
I opened my bag, got out my phone and checked for messages. Nothing, despite the fact I’d deliberately been five minutes late myself.
I gave a small sigh and looked round for my coffee.
“A cappuccino, please,”
I’d asked the girl at the counter when I came in.
She had rung up the order and then scowled at the machine.
“I’ll bring it over,” she said, indicating I shouldn’t wait.
So I was sitting twiddling my thumbs, alternating between staring out of the window, checking my phone and waiting.
My daughter, Kerry, had suggested I try internet dating.
“I do it all the time, Mum.”
“Really? What? Aiden?” “Yes.”
“But he works near you. I thought, you know, you’d just bumped into each other in the coffee shop or the gym.”
“No. I set the parameters to local, so I only met people who were nearby.”
“Oh.” I’d nodded. “But he’s nice!”
“Yes, Mum. What did you expect? A con man or an axe murderer?”
I had really, but I didn’t say. I didn’t want Kerry to think I was completely overwhelmed by the internet.
Of course I’d seen TV ads showing smiling couples who’d met via this app or that, but I didn’t really believe it.
“It’s so easy,” Kerry continued. “If you don’t want to see someone or you’re not interested, you just delete them.”
“But I only want someone to go to the cinema with or theatre maybe.
“I’m not looking for a hot steamy romance,” I protested.
I didn’t feel I needed a dating website. It was rather like the lonely-hearts page of a newspaper from when I was growing up.
But I didn’t want another season of watching
“Strictly” alone on a Saturday night. I longed to set it to record and go out.
I saw plenty of people during the day at work and old friends I met for coffee, but come the evening, they were all paired up.
Once it was dark I was on my own.
“I’ll show you, Mum. It doesn’t have to be a red hot date.” Kerry grabbed my phone and pressed a few buttons.
“Look, I’ve signed you up. Over fifties,” she said with a giggle.
“Not that much over fifty,” I said primly, but Kerry was engrossed with the phone.
“How about him? Or him?”
She swiped the photos so quickly I could barely focus.
“Whoa, whoa. Let me look.”
Over coffee Kerry and I had agreed a few possible matches – which was how I found myself waiting in the café to meet Simon.
He’d looked kindly in his photos, and was wearing a good suit.
“Smart,” I’d said.
“Cool,” Kerry agreed. I looked round again for my coffee and was surprised to see John carrying a cup towards me.
I didn’t know him that well, but he’d worked at the pub in our village for years.
“Hello! Angela, isn’t it?” he said, putting the cup down. “Sorry for the delay. Zoe is new and the coffee machine is beyond her.”
He raised his eyebrows in a gesture of despair.
“I’m sure she’ll get there,” I said.
“Maybe,” he said, with another wry look. “In another month or two.”
“So are you working here, now?” I said.
“Yes. I really liked the pub but after Fiona left me I wanted a nine-to-five job.
“Not that this is strictly nine-to-five but I do get some evenings free.” He smiled. “How about you?” I smiled and shrugged. “Oh, you know, fine. Just meeting a friend.”
I felt my face flush at the small lie. Someone I hoped would be a friend, I should have said.
John smiled again.
Why did I feel guilty? “Well, if you’re in town, I hope you’ll use the café,” he said and touched his forehead in a quick salute.