Saturday 24/06/06

Fairly bright start to the day, cold is a lot better thanks. Showers pop up, but nothing to worry about. As yet. There is an open day for emergency services over a thte Coastguard Station, between 1.00 and 4.30pm. This includes the Coastguard Tug, which lies moored at no 3 pier. I go out just after 1pm, on time to watch the CG helicopter land. It's getting quite busy, and I join a queue to view the helicopter inside. There are loads of kids about. Available for viewing are a fire-engine, an aireport fire tender, ambulance - and of course the kids love to set off the sirens. After a while, a yellow air ambulance comes in to land. It's surprisingly spacious - relatively speaking. The SSPCA has a stand, the police is there with the Padded Man, giving everyone who wants a chance to have a bash. One young boy breaks down in tears at the sight of someone being hit, and the policeman agrees it's not nice to hit people. I have a wee chat with the Navy bomb disposal unit. They have a bomb standing by to be exploded. Apparently at least two pieces of live ordnance are being dragged out of the sea by fishermen around Britain's coast every month. Diving gear from today and yesteryear is on show. The coastguard's garage has all its gear on show. Inside the Station, there is a room full of posters and leaflets from organisations like SEPA. Upstairs, I visit the heart of the Station: The Ops Room. Four people man consoles, which show detailed maps of the area. A warning is being broadcast on channel 16 that an explosion will occur in Stornoway Harbour in 15 minutes' time - at 2.15. The clocks inside the room all show GMT, so it's easy to think it's only just after 1pm. All shipping should avoid the area. A dinghy is out there, prepping the bomb. A five-minute charge is set on it. Meanwhile, a Coastguard explains that the operational area for Stornoway extends to 61 degrees North (we're on 58) and 15 degrees West (we're on 7). The western boundary is shared with the US and Canadian coastguards. Head out at 2.15 to witness the big bang. We are duly warned that the bang will occur in 1 minute - not quite.

BANG!!!

A spout of water jumps in the air. The coastguard boats leave their guard stations, which they had to assume to stop anyone entering the port. Next, I join the queue for a can of coke (60p). Then, it's on to the SAR exercise. Two man "have gone overboard". The lifeboat rushes to the rescue. A flare has been let off to mark their position. The two are retrieved in about 5 minutes. With the water temperature at 9C, you have 10 to 60 minutes to live. After this, I drift off to no 3 pier to view the tug. The Anglian Prince is a large vessel, with a very awkward gangway. Am allowed on to the wheelhouse. One of the crew discovers that a wee girl has managed to break the radar console. The tug escorts tankers through the narrows of the Minch, tows anything the lifeboat can't handle. The events were well attended, and Newton Street was packed with parked cars. A shuttlebus was available to go between the two sites. I miss the final flypast by a Navy Nimrod; it flies over very low, then roars away into the clouds. Meanwhile, mrs B's son has been preparing to put the wee boat in the water, which he finally does with the aid of his uncle's landrover and one of his boys and his pals. Before that, they consume a mountain of pancakes. Dinner is a large sirloin steak with sautéed potatoes, onions, broccoli and cauliflower. It's been a very good day, with plenty of sunshine and warm breezes. The evening closes with the sea as smooth as a mirror. The wee boat is pottering about around the basin and the inner harbour. The Atlantic and the Pacific are beginning to flex their muscles, with a few embryo weather systems that could grow into something nasty.