The Eye in the Sky!

When the MV Brecon Beacon sailed up Cork harbour on Friday, March 25th. 1966 her arrival was anticipated with more than the usual interest. Built just four years earlier in Rotterdam she would be, at 499ft. 7inches, the longest ship to tie-up at the city docks. But the real excitement would be two days later on Sunday morning when she would be turned – with mere inches to spare from quayside to quayside – prior to sailing back down the river to the lower harbour and the seas beyond.

This was going to be an operation worth seeing and would be a photograph sure to make the newspapers, both local and national – with commensurate pay-off – if I got a good shot of the action. So Sunday morning, with my trusty Rolliflex camera slung across by back, I headed for the city quays on my Vespa scooter in plenty time for the day’s drama. My plan was to be there early to ‘suss out’ the best side of the river, relative to the light, for a photograph and the most dramatic angle to capture the action.

As I zoomed along the quayside I could see a small knot of people gathered alongside the ship as she lay quietly to her moorings. I wasn’t surprised as the event had been well publicised on The Cork Examiner but my heart sank as I came closer and realised that a number of press photographers were also present. My scoop was gone as, being a relative newcomer to the freelance photography scene, the old hands would get preference from the newspaper editors when it came to choosing pictures for publication.

I pulled the scooter up on its stand and sat side-saddle to review the situation.

I was bitterly disappointed as I drove on past the group of people on the quayside, pretending I was just out for a morning ride on my new scooter. However, I was still anxious to see the drama unfold so I pulled over by the fence separating the Ranks Flour Milling Co. from the quays, under the shadow of the huge silos that towered over the city docks. I pulled the scooter up on its stand and sat side-saddle to review the situation.

I had no business joining the crowd on the quayside: the old pros had that angle covered. Was there any other angle I could try? The Ranks grain silos would give a fantastic aerial view of the whole operation but the place was closed down on a Sunday. I gazed longingly up at the silos that seemed to go up and up – what a view you’d get up there! But……. Hang on a minute – was that a ladder attached to the side of the silos? With mounting excitement I hurried over to the fence. Sure enough, just inside the fence was a small shed at the base of the silo and a service ladder ran the whole way up the side of the tower from the roof on the shed to the top of the silo.

A major rush of blood to the head ensued and I clambered up on the fence and on to the shed. The ladder looked fine and solid but, strangely, I thought, was positioned about three feet out from the silo all the way up. A strange way to position a ladder! I looked around to see if anyone had noticed me. Not a soul. Promising myself I wouldn’t look down, I started up the ladder – on the outside. Of course, I hadn’t gone up fifty feet when it dawned on me that the correct way to climb the ladder would have been on the inside. If one got tired you could lean back against the wall to rest. What a dope! However, I was now committed and continued up, and up and up! Fatigue – and fear – gradually overcame me but, like Macbeth, I was “ stepped in so far that should I wade no more, Returning was as tedious as go o’er”

I was dizzy with exhaustion, fear and excitement by the time I reached the top

I was dizzy with exhaustion, fear and excitement by the time I reached the top: but now another dilemma faced me. Because I had gone up the ladder on the outside, I was now perched at the top of the ladder, three feet out from the parapet at the top of the silo. Of course, if I had gone up on the inside I could simply sit back on the parapet and swing my legs over on to the roof with ease. Now I was stuck. In my panic I broke my promise and looked down: “Jesus, Mary & Joseph!” The mighty Brecon Beacon below looked like a Dinky toy in Woolworth’s window.

I can’t really tell you how I got on to the roof. I just don’t know. I feel slightly nauseous now just imagining it – even if it was fifty years ago! God knows how, but I did it. When I recovered my nerve I was able to stroll around the silo roof. What a view! Not just of the Brecon Beacon but of Cork city itself. I could see down river as far as Cobh and as far west as the Shehy Mountains on the Kerry border. I was in my element – I was going to get mighty photographs from this angle.

There were two ships turned in the river that morning. The first one up was MV Wenny, twenty feet shorter than MV Brecon Beacon, but from my vantage it appeared as if she only just made it. Little did those on board know it but she was to meet a sad end just three years later when she capsized in a storm off Norway and sank, taking eight crewmen with her. As an old sea-man once told me, “Kevin, the sea only tolerates us.”

The turning of the Brecon Beacon was a sight to behold.

The turning of the Brecon Beacon was a sight to behold. Between the crew on board, the stevedores on shore and the crew of the tugboat, Francis Hallinan, who shunted her around like a dog worrying a football, the whole operation went without a hitch and was all over within an hour. I’d swear I could hear her bow scraping lightly off the quayside, such was the tightness of the fit. I was so fascinated watching from by bird’s eye view that I nearly forgot to take photographs. Nearly but not quite!

My photographs were published on The Cork Examiner, The Irish Press and either the Irish Independent or the Irish Times – I can’t remember which – the following day. Cork Harbour Commissioners ordered a framed copy for their boardroom and the shipping line, Crawford Shipping Company, ordered copies for their various offices around the world. All in all, it was a most successful morning’s work and paid for that year’s fees in UCC (No free 3rd. level education then!) – with a little to spare.

How did I get down off the silo? Quite simple: down the inside of the ladder. When I tired I could just lean back against the wall of the silo and rest. Pity I didn’t go up that way, too! The Rank Company silos have now gone as the quays are prepared for the Strategic City Development Plan and the expansion eastwards of the city into the docklands. For years afterwards as I travelled in and out of the city across the river from that quayside, I couldn’t bear to look across at the silos and imagine myself perched on top of that ladder way up there and wonder – how did I ever get across to that parapet?