Editor's ColumnRobin Copeland

Itinerant Boatman and Reverer of Wimmin

Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Such a lonely death. The winter storm lashed the mast-tops, and drove black rain into his face. The bay was black and lifeless, reflecting nothing, a black hole in the city, whose far sounds shimmered and dimmed behind the rain. He opened his mouth to the wind and the rain, raging without voice.
Henry Adam, the much-loved and irascible writer for Afloat otherwise known as ’Arry Driftwood died on 15 June having drowned when he fell from his dinghy on a passage between Birkenhead Marina and his good ship Driftwood.
Alan Lucas recalls that he always stood up in his outboard-powered dinghy. “A practice I worried about and gave him a friendly dig about it, but he persisted through rain and shine – both before and after his knee replacement – so I guess he died fully understanding the risks he took and certainly living the life he loved.”
Talking about the death last month of his friend Hans Eriksson after “momentary carelessness” ’Arry concurred in the need to never let up on your vigilance or you will swiftly become LATE.
With startling prescience he mentioned his own moment of rashness … “Usually I throttle back and whip the stop lanyard out and drop it aboard before tying up. But this time with a bit of roughosity the lanyard caught under the throttle and as I whip it up, it opened her up! I’m clinging like hell as we circled around and around the moorings. I’m flat on me arse in the wet bilge until I get me equilibrium and shut things down. Now that coulda been fatal. It coulda!”
Largely self-taught, ’Arry was a man of miscellaneous unfulfilled talents. He was born 17 June 1930 in Montmorency, Victoria. The family then moved to Melbourne. Looking for adventure and “to get away from the coldness” he bought a Thames Bedford van and drove north to Brisbane where he met and married Heather. On the way he worked as a cane-cutter, road labourer and fencer. In 1954 they bought a property in Kalanga and turned the wild bush land into a pineapple farm.
In 1961 they repaired to Redcliffe where he went to night school, working in the daytime as an apprentice radio technician with the old AWA company. Later he joined B&D and Electrolux as a salesman.
Moving to Cairns, he bought his beloved Driftwood and sailed to Sydney, dreaming all the time of one day sailing around the world, a bone of contention with his, now, extended family who teased him mercilessly about his susceptibility to mal de mer.
The grey-bearded grinning ’Arry rarely talked about himself – he was always interested in the opinions of others, particularly if he could start up an enjoyable discussion where you could agree to disagree.
“He was always a strong socialist with a clear way of describing his politics,” said Alan Lucas.
Water neighbour Don Hartley recalls how they used to share a sunset chat. “He was alternatively cursing the government or the big white boat wash. He was a fixture on the Harbour. Ferry crews would wave to him, steam boats would toot and there was always someone pulling alongside to have a chat including the Maritime and the Water coppers. He was much liked.”
You can see him in his dinghy. Standing with his hand behind his back to steer and the other raised in a wave. Head up, cap on, big grin, loudly singing the Internationale.
Eternal virgins shipmate. Love ya!
Robin Copeland