Our Stories

Welcome to our new page - Our Stories.

The first contribution is from Heather Menzies - a beautiful story about the history of the Dory.

Once upon a time there was a place called Dangar Island and on that island there lived some people who thought very special thoughts about how they did things.
To get from the island over to the mainland, as one would have to do occasionally of course, they used the typical boats that were around at the time, you know, ones that have a motor (wow! what an invention that is!). But before this invention, travel over water was possible without smelly things that made loud noises, burnt non-renewable resources and caused problems for the folk who needed to use them but couldn’t when occasionally they ended up under water or having broken parts.
When people think a lot about what they do, and don’t have a lot of money to just buy things without thinking too much, they start to invent stuff, or at least some people do.

There was a young lad who did just this, and when he saw a picture of a boat that he realised he could make without too much time or money needed, he recognised a fantastic invention and set about to make one just like it. Of course whenever you make something, it becomes your own interpretation of the initial idea, and that’s why ideas are great because people re-do them and that makes the idea continue if it’s a good one, or even get reinvented a bit in various ways due to attempts for improvement, because ‘that’s what life’s about’.

The 12’ long flat bottomed dory appeared on Dangar Island as winter approached in 1982 in the carport of Ted Holiday’s little fibro house behind the fire station. Ted was approaching 90 years young and was a keen listener to the younger folk who lived and visited this place his home, where he reminisced about his happy days with his wife and their boat trips in his individually styled wooden motor launch he called Skylark. Ted had a carport because many years previously, there came to be a car on the island, and its rusted historic form was to be found at the time of this story’s beginning, amongst overgrown lantana bushes under a very large gum tree on the eastern side.

The car body is gone now, and of course any sign of lantana, as most of the residents of today are very thoughtful about the important things that weave together to make a sustainable, healthy environment. An island has to survive carefully. It is its own cycle of continuity. A shame the gum tree wasn’t able to survive under this dedication.
Well, the dory shape grew and became a boat, watched by Ted and the young man’s then girlfriend, who experienced eye opening amazement that sheets of plywood could be sewn together with copper wire to make a boat that would float. This green flat bottomed double ended treasure of transport was named by the young man as Feather because of what you do with oars of course, and a little touch of romance because the girl’s name was Heather and she liked collecting feathers found in the surrounding sandstone hilltops and gullies of this Lower Hawkesbury’s bushland.

And so the Hoss Dory was born because the young man’s name was Hoss, Hoss Saunders. His real name was Wayne, but apparently the kids at school called him Hoss after a character in the TV series ‘High Chaparral’. This was about a farming family full of handsome, healthy cowboys and their dad, played by Lorne Green. The Hoss character was a soft hearted, likeable fellow with a standout big tall hat whose difference to his brothers never seemed to be explained. Hoss’ sister’s family bred horses and it was told that Hoss was riding before he could walk. Names seem to stick and everyone he met called him Hoss, or Hosso as Aussies do. It seemed to suit this young yachty living at Dangar Island where he was amongst other young yachty folk where there seemed, at the time, to be quite a few. They could live on their own small enough yet big enough sailing yachts (wow, what an invention they are!) without too much expense and were choosing to travel across the earth by using its ever-so connected watery parts.

The little dory, just born, was green because its maker’s 30’ cutter yacht that was his home, was green. A distinctive green that you could see the yellow in, as observant resident and designer of important things like colour, shape and textures Stephen Curtis would say. This Gypsy Soul, that was this yacht’s name, gave the young man a womb-home as he called it, to be born from each day and the little dory proved itself to be the perfect addition for its life supportive needs and more:
• Possible sail dingy with oar as mast meant it could act as a life-preserve not just a raft, when on ocean voyages.
• Strong and steerable when riding the surf into shore gave confidence to ideas of travel to distant lands.
• Carrier of many passengers with food and luggage meant sociable activities were more possible for non-motorboat owners.
• Definitely a very pleasurable experience in this quiet, hear everything around you, slipping over sparkling waters craft, whether it be day or night.

It came to be that a particular rower needed to do so at night. Rummaging through her drawers for a possible invention of a hands free torch, the head band was found and a small underwater torch was held in place on the rowers head. This later progressed to the better all round, isolated danger, alerting, flashing pushbike light with the perfect clip for securing onto spokes, or headbands as in this case. This adaptation of the bike light is more feasible for a hands free, visible and safe method for night rowing rather than the head torch used for straight ahead caving vision. The boatie needs darkness to see better and needs to BE seen. Later, with so many rowing commuters appearing, people have improved this need with a mast inserted at the bow with proper boat lights attached.

This little dory became an object of discussion for other boat needy folk. It was an example of thoughtful action with successful outcome.

At this time another type of young man arrived to live on the island with his family and of course these two young men met and had much to talk about. The second young man was as passionately inquisitive, inventive and scientific about life as the first young man was passionately inquisitive, inventive and creative about what he did in the environment his life was in.
They got on very well because that’s what healthy, thinking young men do. They get on with things.

Of course it wasn’t long before there were many folk who liked the idea of rowing a craft like this for them-selves, but simply marvelled at the consideration of giving time and energy in the same dedicated way as the young Hoss had applied when creating such a little ‘bird’. It wasn’t long before the two young men realised that they could make a mould of this beauty and pop out a few more. Someone had invented stuff called fibreglass, a perfect boat building material, except that it is a plastic and once made, needs to be for something that is worthy of its lifetime. Hence the colourful ‘banana’ boats began to appear along the channel in Brooklyn. Worthy shapes of purposeful splendour.

The dorys proved to be a clever addition to river life. On a running line they bobbed away all day up the side channel of Brooklyn town, away from the problems of the ‘scramble wall’ where motor boats did scramble to find a place to tie up when owners visited the mainland.

Sometimes four deep, tied onto each other, these dinghies nestled and nudged together like a school of aluminium sardines. The front first arrivers of the day tied up to the pylons holding up the wall for the road above. It could be seen as actually a nice element of this river life-style, that everyone helped each other and re-tied each other’s boats to another boat upon being the first to need to get home. At the same time another special element of life was occurring in this particular corner of the watery Hawkesbury where the only way to get across to the island after ferry hours was to wait for someone to wonderfully appear in the dark of night and catch a lift with them. Mobile phones and water-taxis were yet to make their appearances.

For the dory boats, low tide came and went without the issues of getting stuck and being left hanging from pylons. Even when it was the worrisome dead low tide, the dorys could be pulled right in close with their flat bottom, and had no motor to get stuck in the mud on the way out. Row, row, row your boat became a joy and an exciting prospect.

The ‘banana’ boats were a beautiful and colourful site to see, lined up with their silhouettes of double ended balance, running lines holding them waiting patiently for the home-comer in any weather. A sponge out and towel on seat meant rainy days were a kind of pleasure. Quietly slipping over to the island, being part of nature’s wonders as mist and rain would wrap around the rhythm of pulling shoulders. From home, downpours proved to be an OK time to stay snuggled in bed, no motor to protect with a necessary bail.
Hoss was living in a little flat under a house on the northern beach side. How lucky to have the perfect yard to make a mould and help friends have a go at making their very own ‘No smelly engines, just smelly people’ craft.

At this time in the time of this story, each Easter Saturday, there was an event of loud calamity that would impose itself upon the Dangar Island shores. Not one person from the island was a participant in this major event. It was The Bridge to Bridge Water Ski Races and they began their race with a take-off from the south beach. Fuel was everywhere so the volunteer fire-brigade came on board and doubled their care by starting a fund raiser sausage sizzle while watching the antics surrounding these monster machines. Washing liquid and tape littered the shores as the skiers strapped and squeezed feet into skis. Ropes were carefully wound and orders between crews given as helicopters hovered to catch the right shots. Residents stared agape at outboard engines as tall as the people lovingly preparing them.

The start line used to be from the beach, then they moved it out onto the river when the number of boats became three deep and the fire brigade wondered how they could (im)possibly address an accident. The whole river was closed to normal boat activity for the morning and this closure moved up the river with the race as it continued past other water access only settlements to Windsor.

It was exciting as well as concerning. Luckily no explosions occurred on the beautiful beach with its underlying soldier crabs before they moved the start line out onto the river itself. Then one day under the road bridge, a horrific accident shocked the local water taxi operator who was called upon to assist as standby rescue craft and then had to do so. He also was the diver who salvaged the sunken boat. This fellow was The Hoss, who had created a business based on his skills as a boatie to come to the aid of many marine needs of those who also thought that ‘there was nothing more delightful than to mess around in boats’.

Those thoughtful residents of Dangar Island were a little group of men and women of all ages sharing a bond over where they were living, together at the same time on the same land space. They shared the enjoyment of island life and boatie stuff or ferry culture. Some of the ones enjoying the precious discovery of mobility through rowing bantered with each other about the thought that an example of opposites might be needed on these Easter Saturdays. They thought it might be good to emphasise through contrast, or remind through example, that these roaring, speed obsessed motor boats were in fact having an impact as they set upon the peaceful magical land called Dangar Island. It was just a place on a map to the skiers, but this place was a fragile balancing act of homes to precious plants and animals (including humans) that had been through a long timeline of survival to arrive at their magicality.

Perhaps there was also an underlying motivation to help bring a balance to the effect this event had on the senses of the local people. An event which is totally incongruous to the life style of the place it was using. This event has since disappeared from this start point and has been moved to a not so family focussed day in river life. Sometimes miracles, or sensibility, do happen.

And so, the gentle island folks had mused about a procession as an example of peacefulness and sensitivity. The rowing boats were to slip their way across their familiar waterway in front of the south beach start line, parasols and lace, white hats and teacups held poised.

It didn’t happen there and then of course, but Easter Sunday, 1984, instead became a plan for a little race from the north beach because that Easter weekend was to also have a big market day as an Art and Craft exhibition. Many people on the island were crafty and the market day had everyone producing all sorts of useful and beautiful things as well as glorious foods. It was the era of market stalls. Everyone had friends staying over and so there was quite a crowd sharing and enjoying the marvels of the island ‘culture’. Friends, not unknown public observers, were walking the pedestrian roads around the island’s hilltop and flats.

Heather Feather put her cowboy hat on with a Marshall sign attached and made a rolled up cardboard megaphone to call ‘Roll up, roll up’ for whatever races anyone wanted to have. Big handwritten signs were put up to enthuse people and bring them to the beach. Certificates were hand drawn and a watch was borrowed to see what time it took to go around the island.

The two young men who were the master builders of these ‘dorys galore’ bantered about the possible outcomes of the time to go around. They weren’t a competitive pair and so they were more interested in the time and the performance of their boats, and oars, against any other type of craft. Oars are a very important part in the equation of ultimate performance. A resident offered a bottle of rum to the winner and another bottle of rum to any other craft that thought it could be faster.

All the dorys of the time had their owners lining up, a surf ski and a tinny appeared. The women who were bold enough to join in were Jamie Turner in her son’s little blue kayak and Lyn Bradshaw in her very proud to own and just made crimson dory built thick enough to withstand any cyclone. The ferry started the race with its horn, from memory because it was in at the wharf just at the start time and we had to get onto its roof to say ‘Go’. The turn of the tide was the importantly best race-time for best performance.

A safety boat had to use its smelly engine to follow the race and that seemed a shame at the time, but a necessary thing to have to accept about technology and the modern era. It also kept the Maritime Services Board happy upon their subsequent visit and chat with us.
Heather had a green fibreglass half cabin by then and she had the good fortune to be the one to follow this first race and see the whole event as it unfolded.

She used to have a wooden clinker ex-fishing boat with 2hp seagull engine you could steer by standing up and leaning a little left or right. It was finally laid to rest when the caulking became a Harbour Bridge style of maintenance: as soon as you finished at one end it needed you to start again at the other. It had its bottom fibre-glassed and that kept this beauty going until the wood became a bit like a compost between the layers.

It was a well-loved craft, but the efficient fibreglass number is still to be seen around the river. It became known as the green-beret by her work colleagues at a place away up river. This was because of the brightly coloured wool beret worn against the winds. These berets were crocheted by the long term river identity Helen Smith who, not long after the first one being made, had everyone asking for one. The river soon became dotted with these individually identifiable, colourful, perfect inventions; especially for those whose hair could now be wrapped away from the wind without developing that squashed to your scalp ‘hat-head’ look upon arrival.

So the first dory race was in full motion. There was much pre-race acknowledgement by these two young men that they were a conscientious, thinking pair who lacked the need to be competitive of each other. At earlier times they could be heard reflecting after news items that the world seems at times to become over competitive and this turns into ignorant destruction, wars and selfish self-focus.

Without a hint of such on this day, ‘Go!’ was finally called from the ferry roof-top and the bevvy of boats jostled a little as they disappeared around the east side. Finally, at last! less than 20 minutes later, the two dorys appeared around the west corner at a constant speed. The pressure was obviously on! They were neck and neck all the way to the finish and the crowd was making a noise to match their push. It was quite fantastic. As one boat just pulled away from the other at the finish line the crowd cheered, without supporting one or the other, but supportive to both of these characters. No-one really cared who actually won but it is a fact that someone won because someone else tried to win too. This meant they both tried and applied their most ultimate and hardest best skills. This was the celebration felt by all.

The second young fella was actually 11 years senior to the first young fella, and at the prize giving that followed, at the end of his acceptance speech for second place, he said that he had the young Hoss for pretty much all the race but ‘in the end the young fella was just too much for him’. He gave the acknowledgement that Hoss was always respectful to him through their share of knowledge, no matter what their age difference. They are both young of mind. And so the ‘young fella’ label began, referring to anyone, because it doesn’t matter what your age, you are a young thing, (but especially if you do happen to be older!)

Just that once, John acknowledged respect for Hoss being that bit younger. Youthfulness can have the potential edge with their marvellous bodies and fruitful futures ahead. And rightly so because as a famous thoughtful creed of pledge by young’uns says, ‘In our hands lies the future of this great land. If we all work together, doing our best for the common good, there is no limit to what we can achieve.’

The two men were absolutely spent. They put everything they had into it, and said so. ‘When it came to the crunch of pitting yourself against another, its amazing what starts to happen. You go your absolute hardest and use everything you’ve got!’ They seemed bewildered at themselves. It must have done them a bit of good though, because, while they looked absolutely exhausted, they looked great. Oxygenated healthy pink cheeks and constant smiles. A lot like they really enjoyed it. Regular fitness training wasn’t the thing to do in those days where lifestyle gave health its edge.

The first woman closely following them across the line was Jamie in her kayak. How exciting and a cause for celebration. She was very excited at such a successful nonstop go your hardest circumnavigation. Every one shared the rum and a feast followed.

Two years following this, Peter Sharp made a beautiful trophy with inlays and gold writing making ‘Not smelly engines, just smelly people’ the code for Dangar Dory Derby Day which holds muscle power as valuable and perhaps at times underutilised.

To backdate the names on the trophy there was much discussion as to who should be named because more women were now also entering and lots of different other craft were trying to challenge the dory efficiency. Should the trophy name those craft? Mark Whelan just managed to get his kayak over the line in front of the dorys one year and he acknowledged it was….@#*hard work! before of course proceeding to enjoy the sharing around of the well-earned yo ho ho and a bottle of…... prize. The dorys were proving themselves to be fast, safe and efficient commuter boats.

Recognition of the commuter boat purpose was set. The challenge continued to see if any other craft could be as successful. Peta Smith rowed her tinny and Chabella Torres rowed a little yacht tender which in future years gave others the confidence to do so. The Putt children always entered in their yacht tender. A racing skiff tried but kept tipping over at the corners.
Circumnavigation was difficult as it found itself constantly heading towards Brooklyn town.

Peta had discovered daily rowing success in her tinny, skimming over racing tides that surged around the rail bridge pylons, as she commuted from Cogra Bay to Brooklyn. It was a joyful discovery for her that this worked since Cogra Bay is so tidal the mud flats make an engine impossible. The tinny didn’t have the speed of the dory but her skills and application to river life were acknowledged on Dangar Dory Derby Day.

Anders Thiele created the Viking dory. His own shiplap handwork, painted red of course, and he won! of course! Everything this young Scandinavian arrival put his hand to was done well. He and others of his ilk had a strong impact on the river around this time. They found old forgotten putt-putt boats and brought them to life, which encouraged others to do the same. Before long were many different coloured putters puttering around the island. Fixable engines that last and last. All these folk were working together and making something marvellous happen. Restoring original methods and it showed how well these methods worked.

Realising that the trophy can’t possibly have everyone’s marvellous inventiveness recorded upon it, it was decided that the names should show first man and first woman in a dory. So even though Jamie Turner worked so very hard in her kayak and came in so close to the dorys in that first race, Lyn Bradshaw brought her built-to-withstand-cyclones dory over the finish line (eventually!) and that was agreed to be recorded. Lyn continued to become an expert rower devoted to fine tuning rowing techniques.
Jamie later won the first women’s only race in her very own dory boat. She then proceeded to win five times over the next six years, and again in 1999. It became quite exciting for the other gals if Jamie went away for an Easter holiday! She still gives the young things a run for the challenge to this day. (Turns out she is the same age as John Murray…(hope its ok to say that Jamie, but who wouldn’t be proud of such!)

By the fourth year more women wanted to have a go and there were not enough dorys, so they were ‘given’ their very own race, (whoopee!) but they were told they must go carefully so as not to damage the boats or oars on rocks and oyster leases. They also had to do it before the men’s race which was given the peak of tide time to race for maximum time record opportunity for them. Yes, we would do this, thank you so much for letting us borrow your beautiful boats. XXXX. What fun that first race was,
It was deemed to keep the day spontaneous without too much organisation. People would volunteer to use their watch and write the times until finally a stop watch was brought to the wharf. The record was just under the 16 minute mark and this was broken this year of 2013 to become 15.05 minutes by Asher Ashford of Cogra Bay.
Resident children began popping up everywhere. The island playgroup had fourteen little gems in 1980 and so the children’s sprints started the day. Inventions of anything that could float and be paddled by anything brought chuckles as well as ‘Oh Wow, it works!’ The adults also had sprints off the beach to warm up for the big race. Always around the fisherman’s boat then up and around John’s trimaran called Unbound. Returning on the home run, a winner could skim over the oyster leases but when a rower caught and snapped an oar rules had to be made. The oyster leases have since disappeared.

Other races came to be: Apostles race, no paddles for twelve people on board showed the dexterity of the dory, remaining afloat and capable of carrying many. Whatever craft turned up on the day, a race for it was called. Owners and their dogs, kayaks, different ages, butter-boxes and rafts were tried.

After the rowing there was to be a putt-putt race. Many people had their first ride in one due to this race. Around the channel markers became an established rule and one year the ferry joined in.

This was then followed by a sail race. Easter Sunday afternoons always seemed to have a lack of wind though, and often a swimmer would use fins behind the yacht to push it just that little bit to the finish.

After sundown, over a fire on the beach or in some ones yard, the prizes were given and the stories of the day told. One year it was done at the bowling club with microphones and a live band to follow. The speeches were proudly made and acknowledged all styles, ages and efforts.

We tried the race from the south beach one year, but it wasn’t the same and it really didn’t work. The northern beach lends itself well. It brings a focus to this north area as a beach of importance, aspect and usefulness, a perfect size for gatherings like this. Barbeques were tried, to fund-raise for prizes and the fire-brigade, and the shop tried to be involved. Some things work and others are better another day.

Silk screened t-shirts from a cartoon drawn of everyone in the same boat were donated. Other prizes were found when old trophy cups were seen in a recycle metal place. ‘George and Joan’s wedding 1969’ would be on a beautiful but tarnished goblet and became a great flower vase for a winning rower. More of these cups were collected and people got together to polish them. They shone in the sun at prize time. Cybele carved wooden spoons into oars for prizes. Egg cups, gold coins and Easter-eggs were donated by anyone who came to the day.

Sue Baxter had a computer (what a marvellous invention!) and she printed certificates for all. Anyone who went in the round island race got a certificate. Oldest, youngest, most colourful, here last year, broke an oar, etc. She also ensured the children were given due inclusion in the day’s events, knowing how keen the children were to join in. She ensured there were enough chocolate eggs for their prizes. She also helped stabilise the growing need for careful time recording as people naturally developed a strong interest in their results, even if they weren’t really a competitive type of person!

It was a day to recognise inventions and new ideas, but we know the children of today are the adults of tomorrow and we have seen it so clearly here. Those children are winning the races today. Asher Ashford and Louisa Murray are the repeating record-time setters. Cybele Shorter and her girls are always hard to beat. John Murray continues to set the bar with Jonathan Sykes and other contenders for the front places. Roger Bryson from Patonga appeared and was the winner for a number of years, not to be beaten. Sadly, a collision put a hole in his boat one year and after mending it, he said it now pulls to one side, but we were amazed that he still won that year, before paddling off back to Patonga! Was he some secret Olympic champion we wondered, or just a quiet achiever?

Decorated boats were encouraged and dress-ups were definitely part of the frivolities after Florence Murray donned her grass skirt. John Murray wore a red suit from a well remembered island resident and boat inventor. He now dons an ever significant red and white striped coat and captain’s hat, also perfect for his Brunkenkunjekrub putt-putt boat river picnic trips.

An amazing bunch of women came together around this time and there must have been a special energy in the air because they made yet another but similar special event bringing people together and which carried on for years to follow. It started as the Dangar Does Dallas night! It was a big change, to throw off the gum boots, forget about the tidal mud, don some sparkles, heels and your gorgeous man, get to the hall on time and dance the night away. A Latin band was brought over, given beds. Food, splendourous food was spread by all. These glitz nights changed things for Dangar it seemed we thought, but actually it was the way it used to be. Once upon a time dances were the main social event that helped any community of those times bond and hold together, but especially here. The story was told that Nan Higgins could play the piano so well she did it with her feet! The dances were where lovers met and life was given a special push of merriment as it continued on, just as the river keeps flowing.

The original Hoss dory and its design had an attempt of challenge by Jim Ray. He quietly made a longer more rounded hull on his veranda, planning we think, to arrive one day with the secret weapon. It was taking a long time to build and eventually John Murray took a mould off it and reshaped certain aspects. He created the John Dory which is what works so well today. The ‘Original Hoss Dorys seem to have one by one dissolved and gone to their heaven, a land for dorys that have served a purposeful, joyful and ‘valuable to the future’ existence in their time in a special place, here on earth.

This 2013 Easter Sunday 31 March, was the 30th event.

On Dangar Dory Derby Day a funny little suitcase appears that holds a few funny ‘trophies’, an exercise book of times recorded and a stop watch. The day happens because the people who turn up care enough to keep a casual day at the beach safe, friendly and family fun. It becomes purposeful because they get to compare paddling inventions and rowing-boat designs and give personal bests an opportunity. People step in to watch over the children’s races and adult sprints, just like a big family reunion. It is a day of ‘be your own responsibility’ but we are all doing it together, at the same place, same time .

Many brightly coloured and shaped hats are appearing atop the crowd that lines the shore, looking like an Easter Bonnet Parade about to begin. Perhaps this colour will increase in the years to follow. Fancy dress has always been encouraged and Guy Menzies-Saunders keeps turning up in wild head gear from various eras and cultures, Rastafarian beret and dreadlocks, Viking helmet, feathered chief’s head-dress… what next? we can’t wait.

Guy is coxswain for John Murray’s restored surf boat called Swankterbosh. Guy was one of the fourteen in playgroup and now brings keen adult friends from his now northern beaches home-life. He passionately returns to the river in the red rocket speed boat and his enthused and able crew seem to show an awakening deep respect for this environment through their appreciative exchanges when sharing in the river and its ways. On John Murray’s surf boat Guy keeps the rhythm for the crews of both round island races. He is the team weaver and has become dedicated to the aim of finding maximum skills of teams for a performance test of the boat’s prowess. This boat has all these extra hands and smelly muscle power with an extra water length but it still can’t beat the dory.

Some first time round the island men have lately admitted to going in the women’s race with a bright flowery hat for disguise, perhaps to avoid causing threat to the prowess of the usual men? or perhaps to get some private practise in before they become a challenge in years to follow (Go Wally!)
Dorys change hands depending on who leaves the island and who comes to live there. It’s exciting to come to this day of reunion and discover your own dory being loved again by a new owner who still paints it with the same colour and stripe. New ones appear and we wonder who owns them. People smile all day because of the wonder of it all. This event is not run with formality, it holds a spontaneous aura, with an ingrained order of events. The people seem to make it happen, but we must thank those that do the foundation work and hope they will have other passionate folk to step in and continue this tradition which has unfolded, because of the antics of a Hoss and John genertion and their friends.

To see the looks on the children’s faces as they gather at prize time and look up to the speakers, listening to the stories and seeing the unusual treasures given out as recognition of achievements, is a precious moment in time. It is what makes the future real and promising because it IS real and actual, and this gives endless possibilities of a rise to new ideas.

To see the return of familiar faces and hear their voices again, give hugs and catch up on their now-life since island-life is also a pure and rich, valuable, positive energy. It bonds souls in its own unique and especially warm way that helps friendships to develop, sustain and remain in a moving and changeable world.

Congratulations to all who get involved with DDDD, as they keep this little island event happening in its precious significance for joyful watery travel. Hurrah for the youth of yesteryear becoming the beautiful adults they are today.