Waverley - 23rd August 1954

Another short piece from Robin Copland.

On the 23^rd of August 1954, I had yet to reach my first birthday, so I am fairly certain that standing on my own two feet was not yet one of my major strengths.  The power of speech still eluded me, though doubtless I exercised my vocal chords when stressed or needing fed.  Food would probably still be limited to milk and perhaps the odd solid.  Perambulation would be by pram and my mother and father probably still thought of me as the apple of their collective eyes.

Of PS Waverley, I knew precisely and exactly nothing, but I have in front of me form E.R.O. 13826 – and please don’t ask; suffice it to say that it involves Ebay and a wife who wonders just which planet it is that I am from – the daily report of traffic carried on that good ship on that, for all I know, fine day.  And it makes interesting reading for a number of reasons, not the least of which is the route that she took.  Why don’t you come with me, whilst I explain all...

Craigendoran knew not of its fate twenty years down the line.  It remained a busy pierhead despite the takeover of the north bank fleet some six years previously by the “auld enemy”, those nice folk from Gourock.  Stubbornly, the crews of PS Waverley and PS Jeanie Deans stuck to their traditions.  Their erstwhile Craigendoran consort, DEPV Talisman had defected to the Caley stronghold that was the Millport station but at least she had seen off PS Marchioness of Lorne, already withdrawn and sitting idly in the Albert Harbour awaiting her fate – as it turned out, an appointment with the breakers torch in Port Glasgow the following year.

Waverley sat at the pier, steam wisping from her funnel and her paddles turning ever-so-gently as she was coaxed into life.  Her paddleboxes remained black and, though her funnels were painted in the buff and black of the Caledonian Steam Packet Company Limited, the line on them both told of a different heritage.  She was in the prime of her young life at this point in her career – barely six years after her launch.  Her older sister, Jeanie Deans lay parallel to her on the pier.  Both their angled bows had gently kissed the sand under their keels as the tide went out from the notoriously shallow pier.  Later on, both the deeper-drafted Duchesses made calls at the pier, but one imagines that everyone on board was on high alert as the approach was made!  The last thing that anyone wanted as the famed turbines visited the north bank terminal was the ultimate embarrassment of being stuck fast to the seabed!

Life, in the form of a steam-hauled train puffed into the adjoining station; the odd car pulled up and was parked adjacent to the station entrance – nothing fancy in those days, mind you, nothing fancy at all.  An old Austin Seven perhaps, or maybe the still relatively new Morris Minor – the German invasion was still far into the future.  In any case and one-by-one, sixty one hardy souls boarded Waverley that morning – sixty-one hardy souls and five goats!  History does not tell us where the goats were headed, nor indeed where they were stored on board, but I imagine that they would have been tethered to a rail somewhere on board and that a sign would have been hastily erected – something to the effect that there were goats on board and to avoid wherever they were for fear of a kicking!

At ten o’clock, she beat across the estuary to Gourock where five of her number disembarked (the goats, I wonder?) and where 288 passengers joined.  Presumably, this being still the relatively early fifties, the bulk of those had travelled by train from points east.  She sailed across to Dunoon where 212 passengers joined but where 94 left the ship.  I presume that a goodly number of these had travelled either via Craigendoran or, more likely via Gourock and were using Waverley as a ferry service and nothing more.  In any case, she travelled next to Innellan, where 44 joined and 10 disembarked; at this stage, there were 496 people on board ship as she went round Toward Point and into Rothesay Bay.  At Rothesay 77 joined the ship and 118 left to enjoy the splendours of the Winter Gardens or the Old Pavilion.  She sailed from there through the Kyles of Bute to Tighnabruaich for a quick stop to let 9 off and take 22 on.

And now it gets interesting because our ship carries on through the Kyles of Bute, passing to the west of the Wee Cumbrae and on down to Brodick, there to pick up a solitary passenger and let 158 off.  Round the point she sailed to Lamlash next to drop off 41 passengers – doubtless they all went to the Aldersyde hotel just along from the pier, there to imbibe the odd pint or two or foaming ale.  She was not finished yet though, for her next and final stop was Whiting Bay where the remaining 244 passengers disembarked for a short stay ashore.

What happened next was also interesting, for the 244 who had left at Whiting Bay became 265 for the first leg of the return trip.  I can only imagine that a goodly few had disembarked at Brodick and Lamlash, travelled by road to Whiting Bay and rejoined the ship there.  Maybe some did the same in reverse – in other words, disembarked at Whiting Bay, then made their way north to Brodick or Lamlash.  For 65 joined at Lamlash and 135 joined the ship at Brodick, though 3 left at that point. 

So where does that leave us?  Well 442 passengers were disembarked at the three Arran ports and, when she left Brodick on her return trip around the east coast of Bute (and therefore not calling at Tighnabruaich), she had 445 passengers on board.  I do not have a 1954 timetable to hand, but I assume that there was a connecting service from Rothesay to Tighnabruaich to allow the nine passengers who embarked there the chance to get back home; I also assume that the 22 who disembarked in the Kyles of Bute resort would have used TS Queen Mary II perhaps – or even St Columba, I suppose, to return whence they came.

When she came alongside Rothesay, there were 177 passengers waiting to board and 75 to clear, so for her trip from Rothesay to Innellan, she was again at her busiest – carrying 544 people.  At Dunoon, 141 joined her and 211 left; at Gourock, 301 left and 15 joined her, so for her final leg to Craigendoran, she still had a relatively healthy 171 passengers on board.

She was never near her capacity throughout the day, to be fair, but pause and reflect on this for a moment.  Waverley was but one of a large number of Clyde River Steamers, visiting different parts of the estuary.  What is more, you could plan to stay on one ship, or you could devise all kinds of weird and wonderful combinations of ships as they – and you – danced your way around the firth.  Even relatively remote outposts like Tighnabruaich received regular steamer visits each day.  The major resorts like Dunoon and Rothesay had multi-berth piers, but more importantly, they were still needed.  Often there would be two or sometimes three steamers tied up, but straining to get on their way again.  The great difference between then and now was the sheer number of inter-resort sailings available to the travelling public of the time.  Not many people had access to cars and most folk were still reliant on public transport.

There is one more thing of interest to note.  On the return journey from Arran, there were three barrows of general freight and – one dinghy.  I ask you – one dinghy!

 Robin Copland

The Three Lochs

Another short story from Robin Copland - this time focussing on a trip more than a particular vessel.

Photos are all copyright and cannot be duplicated elsewhere without premission of the holder.

Buses have never done anything for me – really, they haven’t. It is funny how very early in your life, you take a scunner to something, and that’s it. For me – it’s buses. I know, I know; call me old-fashioned, bitter and twisted if you want, but buses have never been my thing. Don’t get me wrong – I use them all the time; I religiously sit at the front of the top deck (tricky that, in a single-decker) and I watch the world go by but if you really want to get me going, show me a ship or a train and I’m your man.

This is a long way of saying that the “Famed Loch Eck Tour”, which involved horrific distances (to my way of thinking) on a bus going up and down hill and dale, surrounded all the while by old people (of which, of course, I am now one!), sniffling and chattering and gazing solemnly and lovingly at the passing scenery, would have sent me into the deepest kind of catatonic coma that it would be possible to imagine. I would of course jump at the chance now of such a trip – even with the bus portion! Imagine sailing on TS Duchess of Montrose down Loch Fyne and round through the Kyles of Bute to Rothesay and Dunoon; sign me up, why don’t you, for such an ethereal and joyous sail. But then, in my, by now, teenage years, buses were for the hoi polloi and not for me!

There was one cruise that did tick all the boxes though in those far-off days and that was the “Three Lochs tour”. If you were resident in Largs, there was really only one day in the mid 1960’s when you could do the “Three Lochs” and that was Thursday. By the time I did it, I was no longer the eight-year-old, jellyfish-splattering youngster of a few years earlier; I was now of an age where I was let loose on my own, as long as I demonstrated a willingness to save up at least some of my pocket money to finance things myself.

Thus it was, one sunny Thursday in July, I made my way out of the house, along past Cairnie’s Quay, named for John Cairnie, the one-armed surgeon who was so instrumental in the development of the great Scottish sport of curling; past the old outdoor drafts game; past the lovely big ice cream kiosk run by Nardini’s – the one that used always to remind me of a Victorian bandstand; past the boating pond, where children set sail to their toy yachts more in hope than expectation; past the putting green with its four separate 18-hole courses; and over the Gogo burn towards the pier in the centre of town. By this time, the lovely wee red sandstone pierhead building that housed a small gaming arcade had been replaced by the ghastly, flat-roofed Cumbraen Club, but beyond it, mercifully, the front remained largely unchanged, with its small games stalls, car park and, behind it, the Victorian frontage housing seaside hotels, shops, pubs and residential flats.

The stone beach to the north of the pier was a scene of bustling activity with the wooden rowing and motor boats doing a roaring trade in the early to mid-morning. Their temporary “piers” fingered out into the shallow water in the shelter of the old stone pier and unused boats bobbed gently against them or lay still and angled up on the shingle.

It was always my practice to head down to the pier early just to see what might catch my eye. Largs at this time was still a busy source of business for long distance cruises so, where possible, the timetable planners either had ships calling directly at the pier or, where that was inconvenient, arranged for transfers via Rothesay, Wemyss Bay or Dunoon. The first part of my “Three Lochs” cruise was a connecting service to Dunoon via Wemyss Bay and it was typically MV Countess of Breadalbane or one of the four “Maids” that transported the Largs customers on the first leg of their journey.



mv Maid of Skermorlie (A&J Inglis 1953)



Waiting on the pier, I watched MV Maid of Skelmorlie on her 9.20am sailing to Rothesay. This was an important sailing, because it connected with TS Duchess of Montrose – now, though I did not know it at the time, in her last year of her service on the river – and her Thursday sailing to Inveraray via the Kyles of Bute. DEPV Talisman came alongside next on her 9.30am sailing to Millport. I knew a number of the crew by this time, so had a cheery wee chat with them before they droned off with their ship towards Farland Point and Millport. In the distance, I could see the Skelmorlie make her diesely, smoky way towards Rothesay and, heading across the estuary from Wemyss Bay to Rothesay, there was the splendid, if distant sight of TS Duchess of Montrose herself. You could make her out quite clearly as she passed Toward Point and disappeared into Rothesay Bay. She enjoyed an Indian summer in her last season on the river and it is a matter of much regret for me that never once did I tread her decks. I would have a closer encounter with her around Wemyss Bay later in the day.

There was then a lull at the pier; in the distance I could see one of Ashton or Leven approaching me from Millport, but my attention was drawn to MV Maid of Cumbrae heading our way. The four Maids were amongst my favourites when it came to standing watching them take a pier. Though small, they had twin screws and there was always a nice head of creamy foam as they gripped the water going astern to bring them to a halt. She tied up and the gangway was put out from the landing deck atop the bridge. This would have been a wonderful viewing point for passengers, but the high heid yins thought otherwise for health and safety reasons - they feared the ships would have been top heavy. Stuff and nonsense! Take a look at pictures of the Maid of Cumbrae in her later career as MV Ala in Italy. There she sailed for twenty-five years with an extra deck added the length of her main deck – top heavy indeed! What was a perfectly good observation platform was roped off when they were on the move on the Clyde and this was always a pity.

Neat and purposeful little ships were the “Maids” though. In truth, they were unpopular at first – cramped and noisy compared to their steam-driven cousins and rumour had it that potatoes had to be cut with one flat side so as they did not fall off the plate with all the vibrating! They proved useful servants on the Clyde for their twenty years or so of service though and MV Maid of Cumbrae was even turned into a car ferry to act as “pup” to MV Glen Sannox on the Gourock-Dunoon service. Three of them saw further “active” service abroad and you can still walk on the fourth, MV Maid of Ashton; she was transformed into Hispaniola and now sits dormant on the Thames as an expensive – make that “very expensive” – restaurant ship. Gradually, their time came on the river as the fleet moved from “passenger and excursion” to “car-carrying and essential” and they were sold off, one by one.

In the mid 1960s, they were all as one. The only external difference that all but the most observant could tell was that the Maid of Cumbrae had her name written on the hull in white, slightly lower than on her sisters whose names were emblazoned in black above the hull. A friend of mine was able to tell another couple apart because the staining on the galley door was slightly darker and apparently, one door swung the other way (this was in the days before that phrase had any other meaning!). I gently pointed out to him that, by the time you were close enough to see which side of the door the hinge was on, you could presumably have seen the name on the hull – but that was a detail!

The Cumbrae pulled up handily against the pier and I and about fifty or so others boarded her across the blue gangplanks that were on all the busier piers that the fleet visited. She shook her way from Largs with a goodly crowd aboard her to make her way over to Dunoon via Wemyss Bay. The sail was uneventful and as we approached Dunoon, I could see PS Waverley coming across the firth from Gourock. We berthed at Dunoon and as I disembarked, Waverley made her final approach. She must have been ahead of schedule because she went around the Gantocks and approached outside the Cumbrae and came to a halt in the middle of the three berths at the pier.

Dunoon in those days was a far cry from the Dunoon of today. You can still get a flavour of what it was like when Waverley approaches and one of the streakers occupies the car ferry berth – all is hustle and bustle and there is a hint of what it was like in the sixties. It seemed as if ships were coming and going all of the time in those far-off days – and of course, there was the variety of ships on offer as well. I later learned that the pier had been built by my paternal great grandfather, one William R Copland; he was the chief engineer in charge of the project to increase the size of the pier from single to triple berth. Little did I know, as I tramped from one ship to the other that I was walking upon the work of an ancestor!

At 11.05am, the engine bells sounded and the great paddle wheels started slowly to reverse their ship against the aft rope. Her bow left the pier and once there was enough of an angle, more bells sounded and the paddles, having slowed to a stop, gradually began their forward motion and the stooshie at the rear of the pierside port sponson took shape. As we took our leave, MV Arran approached on her 10.50am run from Gourock. To be honest, my memory is letting me down here and I suspect she may have been running late! Suffice to say that she should have been approaching the pier as we took our leave.

Although the youngest of the paddlers in the fleet by some 13 years or so, Waverley was already 17 years into her life on the river. Her Craigendoran consort, the much-loved Jeanie Deans was in her last season of service on the river and most of the “dreamer” attention was hers. Waverley was a member of the fleet, but still had not developed the following that she enjoys today. She was one of four paddle steamers in the fleet, three of which had originally been “north bank” boats, Waverley, Talisman and Jeanie Deans. The only Gourock survivor by this time was PS Caledonia – still based in Ayr.

I had been on Waverley before as she was a pretty regular visitor to Largs. She had a much more interesting roster than Jeanie Deans to be honest. For the past few seasons, the Jeanie was spared onerous tasks and concentrated on her daily “Round Bute” afternoon cruise. Of all the large cruising ships in the fleet, her lot was the easiest and I suppose we should have seen the writing on the wall, for at the end of the 1964 season, she was withdrawn. Waverley, on the other hand, regularly cruised the waters for which she was originally designed, Lochs Long and Goil, but she also broke free from time to time and was a summertime cruiser around Bute (on her “Round of the Lochs and Firth of Clyde”) as well as a Friday visitor to Glasgow. She took her share of ferry duties on Saturdays when her bigger capacity was needed on the north bank staple run from Craigendoran to Rothesay. In the shoulder season, she regularly took on the turbine cruises as well – to Campbeltown and Ayr. She always acquitted herself well on these runs, according to contemporary reports and had the extra speed in reserve when the occasion demanded.

It was a busy and well used member of the fleet on which I found myself, then. This was her last season in the plain and unadorned buff and black funnels. By this time, the old NB funnels with their distinctive line part way down the buff section where once there had been white paint – they had gone and their replacements’ ever-so-slightly different rake gave her an eccentric look for the next forty-odd years. Her hull was in full camouflage by this time and her black paddle boxes had been repainted the standard issue white in 1959. Her lower hull was still painted black – the blue hull did not make its appearance until the next season and of course the lions would be affixed her to funnels in 1965.

I always think that the nearer the land, the more interesting the sail, so I have always preferred the sail up Loch Long to the sail down Kilbrannan Sound, for example. In those days, and to ensure that it really was a tour of “Three Lochs”, Waverley would poke her nose into Loch Goil about as far up the loch as Carrick Castle. There had been a pier at Lochgoilhead for many a year, of course and up until recently, it had been a regular destination for the Clyde Steamers. Not by now, though, so after a wide and lazy circle had been drawn in the waters of the Loch, she turned to port and headed north and Cobbler-wards to Arrochar, where the second, entertaining diversion would take place, for it was here that I took leave of Waverley for the day and went for a walk! We fetched up against the old wooden pier on time at 1.25pm.



Arrochar Pier taken from Waverley



Arrochar is a pretty little highland village that straddles the north-east tip of Loch Long. It is at a crossroads and three roads wind their way away from the village – the road to Inveraray over the infamous “Rest and Be Thankful”, the road west to Loch Lomond and onwards to Glasgow and the road that twists its merry little way down Loch Long towards Gareloch and Helensburgh. The small pier – now sadly a derelict matchstick reminder of former glories – had been a regular destination for north bank steamers for over a hundred years, but the Caledonian Steam Packet Company was not averse to sending its “crack” steamers into enemy territory in answer to Jeanie Deans early-thirties invasion of Arran! TS Duchess of Hamilton, for example, used to snake her way up the loch to the pier all the way from Ayr on a day excursion and there are photographs of her and her great rival, the Jeanie cosying up to each other on the single berth pier. Words would have been exchanged had there been damage to respective hulls, I have no doubt!

In the mid-sixties, Arrochar was still visited almost daily by a Clyde steamer and many passengers took the advice in the timetable of the time and made their own way across the narrow isthmus between the seawater Loch Long and the freshwater Loch Lomond. There was over an hour allowed for this traverse, so there was plenty of time to take in the highland scenery and possible even detour up to the Swiss chalet style station on the West Highland line that serves the two communities – Arrochar and Tarbet. Tarbet – then as now – was dominated by the Victorian Tarbert Hotel, a fine stopping point on the notorious A88 up Loch Lomond’s west bank. I went straight down to the pier to see what could be seen and to watch PS Maid of the Loch maker her white-hulled approach, heading south from Ardlui. She made a fine sight and was a beautiful ship to the eye as she sailed through the placid waters of the loch. She still sported two masts in those days and there was plenty of deck space from which to enjoy the sumptuous views on offer.

 She approached the pier in somewhat leisurely style compared to her cousins on the river, but she was on time, as I recall, for her 2.35pm departure; this being fresh water as I have mentioned – the commotion as her paddles went into reverse to fetch her up against the pier was less impressive. Gangways were loaded; some passengers disembarked and it was time to board her for the first time in my young life.




There really is something special, is there not, in “bagging” a new ship! To this day, I get excited boarding a ship for the first time and I always make a point of going to explore her nooks and her crannies almost before I do anything else! Not for me this “sitting down in one place and watching the world go by” type of cruising! I’m much more of an “up and at ‘em” kind of a chap!

PS Maid of the Loch had been built at the A and J Inglis Ltd yard in 1953, but was too big to be towed up the river Leven, so she was dismantled and the sections transported by road to Balloch, where they were reassembled. The aluminium superstructure was then added and the vessel fitted out with boilers and machinery, the work of Rankin and Blackmore Ltd of Greenock, whose engine, of course, powers Waverley to this day.

The standard of service onboard was high, although I had already eaten my lunch on Waverley the smells wafting skyward from the galley chimney spoke of good food being well-prepared. The waters though which she travelled were less punishing than on the river, so she was a bright, airy boat and plenty of light got through the big picture windows that extended all the way back to her stern. Aluminium deck houses, painted overall in white, gave excellent views and passengers could use the open top deck as well.


Maid of the Loch (A&J Inglis 1953) at Balloch Pier

There was one big difference between her and her river cousins: if you stood on deck as still as you could, you could detect an ever-so-slight forward and back motion as she travelled through the water – reminiscent, I suppose, of the older Clyde paddle steamers. The reason was that only two cranks drove the paddles compared to the three then prevalent on Waverley, Caledonia and Jeanie Deans. This was a real throwback to older times. You soon got used to it though and the sail down to Balloch passed serenely and all-too quickly, the journey between Tarbet and Balloch taking just under an hour and a half.
Back in those days, the Balloch branch railway line extended all the way to the loch side, hard by the Maid’s overnight berth. The transfer from the Maid to the train was a less onerous affair than from Arrochar to Tarbert. A “blue train” awaited us, still in its original blue colour scheme with the yellow and black line that ran the length of the coaches. The “blue train” was still in its relative infancy, having been introduced in 1959 (there were problems with their transformers, so they were taken out of service before being reintroduced in 1961) and represented an incredible advance on what had gone before. The train was clean and, again, like Maid of the Loch, it was airy. It glided along the single line from the pier, over the level crossing to Balloch Central. Those of us – and there were a discernible number by now on nodding terms – on the “Three Lochs” tour had now completed all three lochs, but of course, there were more adventures to come! We took the train as far as Dumbarton, where we changed to a Helensburgh-bound train to make the connection with our next ship at Craigendoran. This was all new territory to me, I have to tell you! We summered as a family in Largs but were – indeed, if I am honest, still probably am despite my years through in the east! – resolute south-siders. Balloch, Dumbarton, Craigendoran and points north and west – you might as well have been talking to me about Tibet!

Although the railway along the north bank looked settled, in reality, there had been a lot of change over the years since the line to Helensburgh was first opened in 1857. Like all these things, the settled appearance hid the changes of earlier times and was, of course, illusionary. Craigendoran pier and station was only opened, for example, on 15 May 1882, long after the original line to Helensburgh had been laid. The pier and railhead was opened there because of local opposition to a similar facility in the centre of Helensburgh and thus came about the fairly anomalous railhead that was somewhat removed from the population centre that it was meant to serve. Actually – that’s not really fair; Craigendoran was merely a staging post on the NB’s route to the Clyde coast. Within a decade of my visit, of course, in 1972, Craigendoran was finally shut as a Clyde pier and with its closure died almost a century of north bank services to the outer parts of the river. Already, by the time I visited the pier, the offices lay derelict and the pier had seen its best days. Today, if you know where to look, the pier lies empty and derelict and its two fingers seem to be sending one last message of defiance and admonition in the general direction of “the enemy” across the river!

It was still an important railhead in 1964 though and, each night, Jeanie Deans, Waverley and one of the Maids – in the fifties, it had been the Argyll, but by this time, the ships rotated rosters. Can you imagine that, dear reader? Two steam-driven paddle steamers and a Maid! Where’s the camera?
We exited the train, made our way to the pier and onto the ship. I was mildly surprised to find that it was, in fact, Waverley that was waiting for us – I remember assuming that it was going to be one of the Maids. After dropping the “Three Lochers” off at Arrochar, Waverley had waited at Arrochar for barely an hour before retracing her route down Loch Long to Blairmore, then across the firth to Craigendoran. Her regular Arrochar passengers – the ones who had arrived by train that morning at Craigendoran, made their way off the ship and onto a train.


Waverley at Craigendoran (Caledonia just out of shot)

Waverley reversed out of Craigendoran pier and we began our sail back towards Dunoon, via Kilcreggan and Gourock. As we made our way across the firth, TS Queen Mary II was returning direct to Glasgow (Bridge Wharf) from Dunoon and we passed each other mid-firth. “Majestic” might be the word to describe Queen Mary II. She was not swift, like the Duchesses, but her greater beam meant that she could cope with the large crowds that regularly joined her of a morning. She called at Gourock on her way out to Tighnabruaich, but missed out the Caley’s headquarter pier on her return trip to Glasgow. The pursers had to be sharp at Dunoon and make sure that the Gourock passengers disembarked at the Argyll pier to connect to one of the regular Dunoon to Gourock services. If you were a really smart Gourock passenger, you went for a wee walk in Dunoon – maybe enjoyed an ice cream as you did – and you awaited either TS Duchess of Montrose at 7.00pm or TS Duchess of Hamilton at 7.20pm! Those in a hurry caught the official 5.45pm connecting service on one of the ABC car ferries.

Please; give me a break – nobody’s in that much of a hurry!

At Dunoon, we said our goodbyes to Waverley and made our way to MV Maid of Cumbrae, which was returning to Largs after her afternoon cruise to Loch Goil. We left Dunoon sharp at 5.45pm and made our way across the firth to Wemyss Bay. As we left the pier, the car ferry departed and made her plodding way back whence she came to Gourock. Can you imagine it? Back and forth, day-in day-out on the MV Arran!

The next half hour or so was actually rather fun for the “steamer dreamers” onboard! As we crossed over the firth to Wemyss Bay, PS Jeanie Deans came round Toward Point on her return from the Round Bute Cruise that was her lot by this last season in her career. She was similar in layout to Waverley, though her 1930’s hull was longer than her younger consort and somehow more elegant; her main deck windows were completely different in their layout. The big difference between the two ships though was the fact that the Jeanie proudly held on to her NB heritage to the end; she never lost her black paddleboxes. Everything else conformed to the Caley norm except, for some reason, her paddleboxes. And she looked all the better for it.

As we crossed the firth making for Wemyss Bay, TS Duchess of Hamilton could be seen on her sprint from Largs to Rothesay and her sister, TS Duchess of Montrose followed the Jeanie out of Rothesay on her return from Inveraray. She came straight across the firth heading, like us, for Wemyss Bay, but was scheduled to arrive 15 minutes after we departed. We left Wemyss Bay on time at 6.20pm and as we turned to head south along the coast towards our final destination, Largs, the Montrose began to slow on her final approach into Wemyss Bay.

There was just something about the two Duchesses that set them apart from the other turbines of similar vintage. Where TS Queen Mary was beamier but shorter, with her boat deck extending all the way (almost) to her bulbous stern, the two Duchesses were longer and their boat decks had a nice “step” in them towards the back. The “step” theme was echoed in their sterns where a small half-deck for the rope handlers seemed to finish them off – just so. If you see a picture of either of them taken from the stern, you will see how tapered and graceful their hull shapes were. TS King George V – based in Oban of course, but originally built for Turbine Steamers Ltd, an operating subsidiary of Williamson-Buchanan Steamers Ltd – did not have that stepped arrangement and looked less elegant – to my eyes at least – as a result. Though older than the Montrose and Hamilton by four and six years respectively, she outlasted them, so her builders, Denny’s of Dumbarton obviously did a good job when they built her as the first of the “new-generation” turbines in 1926!

Gradually, we picked up speed for the last leg of our trip along the coast to Largs and, with a lingering glance back to the pier to watch Duchess of Montrose make fast, we made our uneventful way home.

What a day it had been, mind you – what a day indeed! A Maid, Waverley, Maid of the Loch, a trip on the north bank rail line and a nice highland walk to boot. Sadly, the fleet was about to embark on the first of a series of changes that would result, within the decade, in there being only two traditional steamers left on the river – one turbine and one paddler. Jeanie Deans and Duchess of Montrose were the first to go; they were followed in quick succession by Talisman, Caledonia and Duchess of Hamilton. Not long after that, the pioneering Maids were disposed of one by one.

More of those changes another time...


Robin Copland

depv Talisman - The One and Only

Words by Robin Copland.

Pictures as Credited.

Any of us who have viewed the Clydesite web forum will know Robin Copland - a long time Clyde steamer enthusiast who is well known on the site for his stories and musings entitled "Monday Morning Light Relief". During Waverley's sailing to Oban this year I was chatting to Robin over a dram when the subject of this Clyde Steamer stories came up in conversation. I asked Robin if he would consider writing something for this blog to which he agreed and this piece about Talisman is the first of hopefully many from Robin. So enough from me - relax and enjoy some time travel courtesy of Robin Copland..........

She wasn’t what you would describe as pretty as she droned her way past the big buoy in Largs Bay, heading towards the pier in the centre of the town. Not pretty in a conventional sense in any case. She wasn’t speedy like the Duchesses; she wasn’t beautiful like the occasional Jeanie Deans (occasional to the Largs Channel, at any rate); she wasn’t purposeful like the Maids and she wasn’t cute like the Ashton or Leven.

Talisman was different, somehow. She was noisier than the other paddlers in the fleet. She was certainly more plodding and her roster rarely varied from Largs, Millport, Wemyss Bay and Rothesay. Maybe it was the plaque behind the Bridge. HMS Aristocrat – that spoke of other adventures furth of the river. What a name too – HMS Aristocrat! Later, I learned that she was nicknamed “Wasp” during her war service – somehow apt. When built, though she looked like a conventional North Bank paddler, she was anything but internally. She was the first and only – and as Duncan Graham puts it in his wonderful book Sunset on the Clyde, those two words “are seldom a good combination” – Diesel Electric Paddle Vessel in the fleet.

She was a flighty mistress in her early years and had her marine superintendent, Mr Perry, taking the happy pills for her first four years. There was talk of selling her on or perhaps re-engining her with more conventional steam-driven machinery as the war approached in 1939; she was so out of favour and sorts that she had been laid up for part of that year. She was in disgrace if we are honest and her revolutionary machinery was just that – revolutionary; but not in a good way.

And then came reprieve. Now it is not often that the Second World War has been described as a reprieve, but for Talisman, reprieve it was. But first, we should record that there already was a Talisman in the Royal Navy, so the jokers in the Admiralty (and if you had asked the Marine Superintendent on the North Bank, “jokers” is the word he would have used!) renamed her HMS Aristocrat.

She sailed south down the estuary and out to the world of the deep-sea and the grown-up. She contrived to be in the right place at the right time; she led a charmed existence and what’s more, she charmed all who sailed in her. She visited France; she weathered channel storms; she avoided V1 doodle bugs in Antwerp harbour; she entered MacBrayne’s kingdom and even helped rescue a liner from the rocks of the Gairloch. And all of this while the turbine stars of the Clyde fleet, Duchess of Hamilton, Duchess of Montrose, King Edward, Glen Sannox and Queen Mary II, to name but a few, were on more mundane ferry and tendering duties on their home river. Oh, what a life of adventure did HMS Aristocrat lead until 1946, when all returned to peacetime normality.

Talisman circa 1947/48

New deckhouses were added to bring her into line with modern expectations of sheltered accommodation, but back came the gremlins – so much so that she was laid up again in July 1953 on the arrival of the last of the four Maids, the Maid of Cumbrae. This time, it seemed, her fate was sealed – but for the unhappiness of the good folk of Cumbrae with the wee Marchioness of Lorne. Believe it or not, the Marchioness’s 12 knots had been just about OK for her original Holy Loch service; hopeless though for the slightly more exposed Millport station and her cause was not helped by the longer journey times between piers. The good folk of Greenock thought long and hard about their problem and decided to equip Talisman with new diesel engines. Thus improved, she went a whole knot faster than previously she could manage post-war and miraculously – though not without the odd scare – she gave good service on the Millport run for another 14 years.

By the time she hove into view around the lion rock and ponderously paddled her way towards a very young me, standing on the shingle beach watching in awe, seven years had passed since her re-engining and she was about midway through her time on the Millport run. She was a busy boat by this time and although her route rarely varied as I have said, her passengers certainly did. Cows, bulls, sheep, cars, post, newspapers, produce, locals and holidaymakers all graced her decks, though the people were less apt to leave their calling cards than were the animals! I became a regular on the hops between Largs and Millport, Rothesay and Wemyss Bay and though she was no Duchess of Hamilton, she was certainly more interesting and entertaining to my way of thinking than the Ashton or Leven!

Her typical weekday and Saturday roster took her from Millport at 7.20am to Largs and Wemyss Bay, returning from Wemyss Bay along the same path to Millport, where she arrived at 9.55am. After a short layover at the Old Pier, she retraced her steps leaving at 10.15am and returning to her home base at 12.45pm. Following a half-hour layover, she returned to Largs, leaving at 1.15pm and arriving at the unforgiving L-shaped Largs pier at 1.40pm. Unusually, she laid over at Largs for half an hour before striking out for Rothesay.

All of these inter-pier runs were listed in the Principal Services part of the company timetable, but the last Millport to Largs run was also part of her daily “Cumbrae Circle” cruise. For the princely sum of 4/3d – that’s about 22p in today’s money, a holidaymaker could leave either Largs or Millport, head for Rothesay with an hour and a quarter ashore, then cruise via Kilchattan Bay and around the west coast of Cumbrae back to Millport and Largs. The last Millport to Largs sector of the cruise became the first part of her final round trip of the day to Wemyss Bay. She reversed out of Wemyss Bay for the last time at 6.20pm, headed south for Largs (6.50pm) and arriving for the last time at Millport Old Pier at 7.15pm where she tied up relatively early for the night.

During her day, she came into close contact with many of her fleet mates.

• She would regularly bump into (not literally, of course!) one of the ABC car ferries at Wemyss Bay or Rothesay, sharing the pier with them there on a number of occasions throughout the week.

• As she vacated Largs pier on a summer Wednesday at 2.10pm, Countess of Breadalbane would slide alongside the same pier ready to take up the sail to Dunoon at 2.20pm. Passengers on that Wednesday cruise returned to Largs on Waverley. Often, Talisman had to bide her time off Cairnie’s Quay to let her bigger Craigendoran sister offload her passengers. I can remember one such occasion; I wondered why Talisman was holding off and also noticed that, as she started off again for the pier, the water was fair pounding out of her starboard paddlebox – a combination, I suppose, of a full passenger load and all of them on the starboard side of the ship awaiting disembarkation.

• As she sailed on her afternoon cruise, she would pass Maid of Skelmorlie to the west of Cumbrae, which was on the Cumbrae Circle cruise going the other way round. I imagine that it must have been a pleasant diversion for the golfers on Millport Golf Club to watch the two ships pass in waters rarely visited by the Clyde fleet, although obviously busy with steamers coming and going from further afield.

• In those far-off days, Duchess of Montrose took the Inveraray cruise on Tuesdays and Thursdays throughout the summer and, on her return, she would sail from Rothesay across to Wemyss Bay between 6.00pm and 6.25pm, arriving just after our ship had vacated the pier for her final sailing to Millport at 6.20pm. Looking west on that same sail on a Thursday, a passenger might notice the Montrose’s sister ship, Duchess of Hamilton, as she powered her way from Largs to Rothesay on her homeward run from Campbeltown.

• On a summer Saturday, Duchess of Montrose returned from her cruise round Ailsa Craig and was scheduled to arrive at Millport (Keppel) pier at 7.20pm. Talisman would come buzzing round the Lion Rock on her final leg of the day from Largs into Millport Bay at about the same time that the Montrose approached Keppel.

• On Tuesdays, her near contemporary, Caledonia sailed north from Ayr on a cruise to Loch Goil. She was scheduled to leave Millport (Old) pier at 12.20pm and sail to Largs for 12.45pm. Talisman and Caledonia passed in the Largs Channel right in front of our house and it was interesting to compare the two ships. Talisman, seemingly lighter built and smaller that the heavy-looking Caledonia; more traditional looking with her fan paddle boxes than her fleet mate.

The truth was that in 1960 it would have been strange had she not met her fleet mates as she went about her daily business. Interestingly, her encounters with Jeanie Deans were few and far between – unless of course, you happened to be in solitude of the Kyles of Bute on a Sunday afternoon. Then you would see a sight that would gladden the heart of all fans of the North Bank tradition. Yes, the three steamers’ funnels were painted in the buff and black of their Gourock bosses; yes, both Waverley and Talisman had paddle boxes painted in Caley white and yes, Talisman was no longer based in her spiritual home at Craigendoran, but ..., but .... there they were in all of their glory – Jeanie Deans, Talisman and Waverley. Talisman returning from Tighnabruiach (her one weekly diversion from her staple summer diet) to Largs; Jeanie Deans on her cruise round Bute and Waverley on her run to the Kyles of Bute all the way from Craigendoran. Still going strong; still sailing on the river of their birth; still giving pleasure to all those who eschewed, for the time being at least, the joys of foreign travel. It would be nice to think that the captains of each of them doffed their caps in each other’s direction as they piloted their charges through the narrows.

(Image is from a photo of the author's John Nicolson painting)

Talisman continued to serve her adopted home until 1967. In her latter years, her funnel had been scarred by a tiny lion and her hull had been painted the BR blue that became the norm for four or five years. Jeanie Deans had already flitted to the Thames for an unhappy year or two and Duchess of Montrose had bowed to the inevitable and been towed to Belgium to be broken up. The fleet was moving with the times. Talisman was unceremoniously towed to Dalmuir and the end, when it came, was swift.

Talisman – First and Only. Maybe not a bad way for those of us who still do, to remember a fine and faithful workhorse of the fleet.

Robin Copland