August 27, 2006 - THE HISCOCKS: LONGTIME OCEAN WANDERERS
by Michel & Jane DeRidder

Photo of the Hiscocks on Wanderer V (from the cover of the Australian magazine Cruising Helmsman).

We first met Eric and Susan Hiscock in Las Palmas in the Canary Islands. The year was 1968 and we, like most cruising sailors of the day, were in awe of them for the miles passed under their keel and for their books introducing us all to myriad aspects of Cruising Under Sail and Voyaging Under Sail - books that we'd borrowed from the Vancouver Public Library. We've met countless people of various nationalities speaking many different languages along the way who said that it was the Hiscocks who first kindled their interest in blue water voyaging on their own boats.

We had our Honda 90 Trailster motorcycle ashore in Las Palmas at the time of our first encounter, and offered to help with any fresh provisioning. They assured us that they had it all under control. It was then that we realized the depth of their self sufficiency, their dignity and their disciplined hard work. One of the few times I remember them asking us for help was a few years later just after they arrived in Noumea from New Zealand, when they requested mail forwarding info. We said that we would speak the next morning to Jim, a ham radio operator known to them, to ask him to telephone Colleen, postmistress of the Opua Post Office, a mere stone's throw across the water, to arrange the forwarding of their mail to the address we were currently using. These were the days of friendly simplicity within a far smaller cruising community, before local post offices were done away with. They were surprised and delighted when their package of forwarded mail arrived a few days later. They had rather despised radio communication on cruising boats, so we hoped that perhaps the demonstrated efficacy of the ham network would change their minds just a little.

It was on that occasion that we had welcomed them to Noumea by taking them a loaf of fresh French bread. Later in the day they passed by to ask us if we would come by their boat that afternoon to be photographed passing the baguette up to them from our dinghy. By this time the bread had lost its crispness, and drooped in a most embarrassing way. The problem was solved by placing the long loaf along my forearm.

They liked being included in various cruising festivities. Susan once confided that occasionally it seemed they were overlooked because fellow cruisers were loath to intrude on their lives. Indeed, they were held in extraordinarily high esteem. Legend has it that when a Sausalito couple were selling their boat, they apologized to would-be buyers for the mess on deck. Seems they'd been re-caulking the teak when the Hiscocks came aboard, and those were Eric's black footsteps. That clinched the deal. The boat sold forthwith, the buyers swearing never to remove the footprints. Nevertheless, the Hiscocks were private people, busy with writing and editing, meticulous ship maintenance, rows, walks, and visits with their many good friends ashore and afloat. I remember Susan telling us that they were frequently visited by readers of their books, complete strangers, coming by to see the boat and to ask questions. Eventually they developed a system of scheduling all such visits to one afternoon a week.

In Noumea they dropped by to to find out what Sat Nav we had, and if we would recommend it. We, however, were slow in taking on the latest technical innovations and had to admit that we hadn't yet gone that route. We had a ham radio, a depth sounder, a small radio that served as a direction finder, and that was about it. The only other cruising vessel in the anchorage we could think of less electronically equipped was Wanderer IV. We decided that the complexity of electronics was inversely proportional to the number of years afloat.

Once, a few years later in New Zealand, we paused on our way to see the Russell Tall Ships Race, to find out if the Hiscocks would like to come along. Susan's face lit up as she accepted with alacrity. Then her face fell and she whispered, "It's no use, you know. He can't see." Eric's eyesight had begun to deteriorate. Around that time I remember seeing on shore a tall figure striding along, followed closely by a smaller pork-pie-hatted figure touching the arm of the first. As they drew nearer we recognized first Susan, then Eric. Still, they continued sailing and visiting various islands and countries, just the two of them. As need arose, Susan took on still more responsibilities. Their last long cruise was from New Zealand to Fiji, New Caledonia, and on to Coffs Harbour, NSW (Australia), returning to New Zealand. "But that will be the finish of our voyaging," she wrote, "We are 78 and 73, and the nights have got longer and darker!" She told of how four of Eric's books were recently reissued in paperback, "heartening except for poor photo reproductions."

Soon after their return to Opua from Sydney, Eric was diagnosed with lung cancer. They sailed down to Auckland to stay at Westhaven Marina so that Eric could undergo radiation therapy while "...living in our accustomed comfort aboard...The side effects hit Eric badly...We still enjoy the cruising fraternity and somebody turns up every day to cheer us along." After Eric's death, Susan continued to sail Wanderer V on her own, visiting friends along the Northland, NZ east coast. "Much of my heart is in New Zealand," she wrote. But when friends made "a reasonable offer," she accepted. "The boat has made me a snug home but she is too big to handle with pleasure on my own. I feel somewhat insecure with no roof over my head, but am going back for a few months in England, though I might return here. For more than 30 years Eric and I have visited New Zealand, with one foot on the beach but with the other firmly planted in our little bit of floating Britain, ready to take off at our whim...If one wants independence, this is it. We all had/have the same advantage of supporting ourselves by our own efforts, living simply and well - often to the envy of our many friends along the shoreline."

Later she wrote: "Perhaps I was wrong to opt for life ashore - I certainly have not had an easy time these last eight months. After I'd got used to the trauma of selling Wanderer, I explored the market for houses....I had to go back to New Zealand to be sure what life there might be like for a sole lands woman. Houses are so permanent." She decided, "having lived in the centre of the cruising scene, it might be better to get right out rather than dally on the sidelines."

We were touched when Susan gave us the rubber-backed felt pad that Eric had used under his typewriter to muffle its clatter - we used it to silence our vintage Royal. She returned to the UK, bought an old coastguard cottage in Yarmouth, Isle of Wight - "where Eric's ship was based in the war, where we were married and eventually bought the only house we have ever owned. So I'll not be without a few old (very old) friends to help me settle in." Semi-detached in a row of six, the cottage had not long before undergone an extensive refit - "new floors, pipes, wiring...It has a small garden, a garage (gold dust! and room for a dinghy too) and a view of Yarmouth's deep water harbour only a stone's throw away...It is semi-furnished: carpets, beds, chairs, table, curtains and electrical appliances. All I need are my books, pictures and bric-a-brac, at present at sea in a container ship bound for England. I'm happy to have four wheels and I still use my bike."

Susan in her garden in Yarmouth on the Isle of Wight. (Photo taken by Nancy Wood, when she and John sailed in on their NZ yacht Woodwind. Susan did enjoy it when old friends actually sailed into Yarmouth in their own boats.)

Susan described her new life with enthusiasm. "I enjoyed being busy getting it to my liking, especially the garden which was only paving stones when I arrived. When that gave promise of blooming flowers and veg I bought this sailing dinghy, Shrimp, a design at least 50 years old but they are popular in Yarmouth where there is a fleet of 60. I cruise in miniature, crossing to the mainland when it's not rough."

Later she wrote, "I have been sailing my dinghy a lot this past season, plus trying my hand at racing (slightly retrograde for a cruiser). They don't require a crew so suit me well. Fortunately the other owners are not too serious about the racing rules, but I'm learning and it keeps me in contact with folk with some salt in their veins. I bought a new tan sail and tuned the boat up so that we did improve our finishes. The sail has proved to be a good one. The previous one was too heavy and didn't 'belly' into a proper shape until it was blowing 5. Of course I really prefer to sail along the coast to another inlet but often the weather is too rough for that. Wind blowing against a strong tide really stirs up a little sea."

Susan's dinghy Shrimp.

The last letter we received was dated October 1994, along with the photo below. In describing the photo, she explained, "This is Yarmouth's river above the harbour and swing bridge where I keep my dinghy. I took the photo from the top of the church tower looking over my cottage roof. High tide, range about the same as Bay of Islands so plenty of mud, lovely mud, how we enjoyed it after a spell of coral. A fair summer here, good for sailing and my little garden crammed with veg and flowers." Aged 81, Susan died in May of the following year, leaving a large sum of money for the Isle of Wight coastguard to build a new lifesaving boat.

Susan would be delighted to know that their various Wanderers continue to cruise the oceans of the world. Wanderer III, the 30-footer they had in the 50s and 60s, is currently on its way to Antarctica via Chile with its longtime owner and his partner. Susan followed the voyages of Wanderer III with great interest, though she never met its current owner. We've occasionally shared anchorages with Wanderers IV and V. The Hiscock books and example have shaped the lives of thousands of cruising sailors the world over.

See Lyn Pardey's portrait of Susan Hiscock in SAIL magazine, October 1995, for a tribute to this extraordinary cruising woman, and a sensitive, intimate insight into the world-famous couple.