The Tragedy of the Irene
Grabbing some binoculars from the drawer I peer with some difficulty towards the shore of South Ronaldsay. We were making for Kirkwall, Orkney, a five hour journey by sea from Stromness via the Pentland Firth. A rolling easterly swell gently pushed us to a five degree roll, severely diminishing my ability to focus on what had caught my eye. But, despite the roll, I could make out a huge rusted boiler pushed up onto a rocky beach below the patchwork of green fields dotted with cows.
This sighting remained forgotten about until we met up with Kevin Heath, a local diver with a huge talent for finding and researching wrecks. He informed me that the boiler was that of the Irene, a 2,300 tonne Liberian steamer which was wrecked after issuing an SOS that she was drifting out of control in a force 9 south east gale. The vessel finally went aground on the shore of South Ronaldsay on the 17th March 1969. The whole crew were taken off the stricken boat, with no harm coming to any of them. But this is only a tiny fraction of the story.
As you would expect, the lifeboat had been launched to assist with any rescue, named the TGB after an anonymous donor, it battled from its home port of Longhope, a small community in South Walls, Hoy. To get to the position of the Irene, it had to pass through the Pentland Firth.
The Pentland Firth is a fearsome stretch of water that separates Orkney from the mainland. The tide surges through this narrow space, rushing around the now abandoned islands of the Swona, Stroma and finally the Pentland Skerries with their characteristic double lighthouse. Working on the liveaboard the Valkyrie has meant that we have to through the firth occasionally, and each and every time it makes the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. These days it is filled with the vast bulk carriers heading east or west, channel 16 alive with their calls notifying the coastguard they are entering or leaving the Firth. These turbulent dark waters have become the graveyard of many a ship, and making 2 knots backwards against the current in a back eddy, I can see why.
The comparatively tiny lifeboat entered this wild stretch of water in the raging southerly gale, finding that the tides had met with the awesome opposing force of the wind and created a terrifying situation. At 8.40pm, forty minutes after launching the lifeboat gave her position as 3 miles south east of Cantick Head Lighthouse on South Walls, five miles from her launching place.
At this point she would be entering the tidal race which can make nine knots, versus the gale force winds whipping the sea to a fury. At 9.30pm the TGB was sighted by the lighthouse keepers on the Pentland Skerries, around four miles south east of her previously reported position.
The last reporting signal from the TGB was picked up by Wick Coastguard as she still ploughed north to assist the Irene. This was the last that was heard from the TGB.
The following afternoon after a massive search Thurso Lifeboat found the TGB floating upside down four miles south west of Torness with extensive hull damage. Once righted in Scrabster harbour seven bodies were found in the wreckage. Six of these were in the cabin, one in the Supernumerary and the coxswain still at the wheel with a broken neck. The eighth member of crew, the motor mechanic was never found. Coxswain Daniel Kirkpatrick, Second Coxswain James Johnston (son of Mechanic), Bowman Daniel R Kirkpatrick (son of Coxswain), Mechanic Robert R. Johnston, Assistant Mechanic James Swanson, Crew Member Robert Johnston (son of Mechanic), Crew Member John T Kirkpatrick (son of Coxswain), Crew Member Eric McFadyen. They left seven widows, one widowed mother and eight children, all of whom were pensioned by the RNLI.
Picking our way down the grassy slope to the pebble beach we can see the remains of the wreck poking from the glistening smooth water. Soon there are sections of plate, twisted and unrecognisable as any part of the ship. Two huge boilers lie among the jumble. A complete section of what was once the deck has been bent over, the wooden planking still attached to the underside where it has remained protected from the weather. When the Irene was run aground she was totally intact, what little is left of her is testament to the awesome power of the sea.
Sitting quietly on a section of plate I can’t even imagine the fear felt by the guys in that lifeboat in their final moments. The sheer bravery of going out in that kind of weather is unimaginable to most people, the irony that the stricken vessels crew actually walked ashore is never far from my mind. Somehow it seems so unfair.
Leaving the wreck to her peace, she seems an unlikely monument to those men lost attempting to save her.
Sometimes it is easy to forget the impact the sinking of a boat has. Not just on the people on board, but on those who go to their aid. The tiny community of Longhope was devastated by this tragedy. Fathers, sons, brothers all lost going to the aid of others.
Photographs are here: -
http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/porgthediver/TheIreneSouthRonadlsay