Five of Northern Ireland’s six counties surround Lough Neagh, which is the largest fresh water lake in the United Kingdom. This inland sea is renowned for its sudden squalls and its notorious lack of shelter.

Lough Neagh, historically, has bred a sturdy clinker dinghy known as the Ulster Boat. In the 1960’s a builder in Lisburn, County Antrim, produced a GRP version of this traditional craft. They knew how to build with GRP in those days, and early models were heavily and strongly built. But somehow in the ’60s the price of a new Ulster Boat seemed beyond my financial capabilities. I was newly married then and my First Mate tended to waste my ill-gotten gains on luxuries such as food and clothing.

The years drifted past and I had owned several craft, but somewhere in my heart I held a special spot for the Ulster Boat. One cold, miserable evening in November, 1986, I retrieved the evening paper from the hallway. As normal, I ignored the headlines and turned to the boat sales column at the back of the paper. There I espied an ad. for a 12’ GRP dinghy. “Couldn’t be one of my Ulster Boats of twenty years ago?” I wondered. I ate my evening meal dreaming of the bow-wave surging up the simulated clinker GRP. As I stirred my coffee I saw in the cup peaty Lough Neagh, water boiling up the centreboard casing. My thoughts were miles away.

Ten minutes later I telephoned the Belfast number in the advert — “Eureka!” — it was an Ulster Boat — and one in virtually unused condition, I was assured.

My trusty Renault thundered the thirty odd miles to Belfast. I didn’t want someone else to get my Ulster Boat. Sheer relief — she was still there! I could hardly believe my luck. She had been home-built from a kit and little used. The price tags still adorned the various fittings some twenty years on. Instead of the usual Bermudian rig, my ‘girl’ carried the old Heron rig with cotton sails. I had at last found my ideal cruising dinghy — some 25 years after I had first longed for one.

Later that night, some £300 poorer, I examined my craft at home. She was in remarkably good shape and came complete with oars, trailer and fitted cover. A few chips were filled in, followed by a coat or two of GRP primer. The finish is an off-white cellulose paint job which has proved remarkably resistant to marine growth despite the lack of anti-fouling. I fitted a rope ‘rubbing strake’, modified the keel gear and, a week later, headed for Lough Neagh. No problem rigging or launching, but then a thought crossed my mind — I was a life-long motor-boat man — “How does one sail?” “With some difficulty!” I soon discovered.

I sailed out of the Sixmilewater River into the Lough. A fresh f5 was blowing. My Ulster Girl, for so I had named her, fairly flew along. I was full of exhilaration. “Nothing to this sailing game,” I thought. About two miles offshore the waves looked rather large. I tried to turn to return to the river, but with a total lack of success. Three miles offshore and the waves were too big! I evolved a new method of tacking: both sails were allowed to blow free — rowlocks were fitted. I rowed through 180º and tightened the appropriate ropes again, then rocketed away for the shore like a bat out of hell!

As I entered the rather narrow river I was (totally inadvertently) goose-winged. Everyone knows that heavy clinker-like dinghies don’t plane. Mine did! By this time there was a good f6 behind me. I was in ‘the Horrors’. My wife shouted from the shore, “Slow Down!” That was my dearest wish — but how? A 90º bend loomed ahead, bounded by rocks and WW2 concrete blocks. I just had to come about. I slid gently onto the floor to lower the centre of gravity and lunged the tiller over. Ulster Girl looked after me better than I deserved. She turned rather dramatically and came gently to rest head-to-wind. I felt proud of my success — or was it relief? Ulster Girl had done me proud on our first trip.

Five minutes later I struggled to pull Ulster Girl onto her trailer, but she proved a bit ‘bitchy’. She just didn’t want to leave the water. Shades of Basil Fawlty, I threatened her with dire punishment in a manner my religious adviser would hardly approve. “Why not lift the keel?” suggested my wife quietly. Women can be so practical at times. The Girl floated gently into place for the tow home.

Since my initiation I have learned to turn without the oars. The tiller now has a nice whipped cord hand-grip. A lucky owl mascot adorns the foredeck. The traditional gold (coloured) coin adorns the tiller. I need all the help I can get!

The trailer was rather too light for the job and has been rebuilt to a higher spec for long distance work.

Ulster Girl has carried me safely over and through the waterways of Ulster, both in good weather and bad. I wouldn’t sell my £300 boat — after all, I waited 25 years to get her!