The Rathlin Saga Poem by George McHugh  GI4SRQ

The Rathlin Saga

There are strange things done in the name of fun by the folk known as radio hams,

They spend many hours transceiving on air and certainly have no qualms.

The Lighthouse Weekend is a Special Event that takes place in August each year,

And the spectrum abounds with the signals and sounds from multitudinous radio gear!

To work a Lighthouse or work a Lightship is the radio listeners' aim,

Chasing the hundreds all over the world, that's the name of the game,

Golf Bravo Zero R. E. L. is the callsign for Rathlin East Light,

Activated by Jim and Ernie and George from late on the Friday night.

On the aforesaid day they ferried their way, MV Cana, Caledonian McBrayne,

The six-mile crossing was smooth and calm over the Caldron of Brecain

To Rathlin Island, shaped like a stocking with toe pointing South, it is said,

The leg stretching West, they made for the heel, on the East - Altacarry Head.

For collecting the lights, if that's in your sights and you want to join in the fun,

The reference number of Rathlin East Light is N. T. I. Zero One One.

 Or perhaps you prefer to work Isles On The Air and Rathlin is new for you,

The number for that, and the North Irish lot, is Europe EU-One Two Two.

Setting up aerials and radio gear, first task for the three-man crew,

Namely Jim Forsythe, and Ernie Hooks, and their third man George McHugh.

Soon to transmit with all the kit when Saturday starts - U. T. C.,

Windom or Loop, with Icom Pro and Twenty-one hundred B.

George, last year, when full of good cheer, was exploring the lighthouse base,

Not seeing a pipe sticking out at head-height made him almost a hospital case!

This year, just for him, thanks to Ernie and Jim, with a helmet he was kitted,

The only question that still remains - was the pipe bent before he hit it?

They called "CQDX DXCQ" and at first it was all in vain,

But the story of Bruce and the spider, inspired them to try, try again!

They were close to the cave on the Island, where Robert, in history it's said,

Had turned defeat into victory, after watching it spinning its web.

Propagation came good! They knew it would, and logged Europeans by the score,

Continents - all five - became alive! So who could ask for more?

While high overhead not far from their bed the East Light swept in bars,

And the sky outside was bright  with the light of the Milky Way and the stars.

England... Scotland... Ireland...  Wales... Norway... Holland... Sweden...

Germany... Poland... Portugal... France... everything East of Eden!

Italy... Switzerland... Czech Republic... Romania... Hungary... Greece...

Finland.... Turkey...Yugoslavia... the calls would never cease!

The Isle of Man... Toronto... Japan... Russia... Argentina...

Brazil... Ukraine... Croatia... Spain... Bosnia Herzegovina...

Manila... India... Tasmania... Virginia... Sri Lanka... Liberia... Denmark...

Rotterdam... Uruguay... Amsterdam... Paraguay... Madeira... Isle of Sark.

Call Golf Bravo Zero M. F. D. for Marconi Festival Day,

Was the closest station they had worked. It was just across the Bay!

It made them think of the FIRST radio link with Ballycastle town

And what it meant to Marconi, Kemp and Glanville, three men of renown.

One man on the mic, one keeping the log, near lunchtime on Satur-day,

When who should walk in hair tossed by the wind, welcome visitors Colin and Ray!

A guided tour of the Lighthouse with Ern to the top they went with zeal,

No prize for the name of who got the blame for keeping them late for the meal!

"They dined on mince, and slices of quince, which they ate with a runcible spoon." Hi! Hi!

But a cup in the hand when working a Band was enough to keep them in tune!

Our trio were good at scoffing the food, but Ernie can proudly boast,

No-one can beat him,  the way he can eat 'em, those rounds of buttered toast!

Jim's the one man who wields the pan, with steak and chops for dinner,

At cooking food he is real good - not inclined to make you thinner!

And Ernie and George, after a gorge, and much against their wishes,

Heave a great sigh as they wash and dry, reluctantly doing the dishes!

Rathlin East Light has seen many a sight, but the memory will never fade

Of the day the three chaps spiralled up the steps, ninety-eight? to the balustrade,

To meet the Piper, the Super Cub - they had heard the little 'plane -

Yellow and white, it flew round the Light as if drawn, like a moth to a flame!

They waved with a grin as the 'plane swooped in, with backdrop the Mull of Kintyre,

Pilot James McCullough, and Matthew his son with camera loaded to fire,

To take many snaps of the Lighthouse and chaps, they had flown from Newtownards.

The team will peruse the photos and choose a shot for their QSL cards.

Three Lights on the Isle, so with time to while, 'twas Stroke-M to the other two,

Rough roads, not the best, to Bull Point on the West, then South to the Light known as Rue.

Also a square that is really quite rare, was included in the drive,

A bonus for the Worked-All-Ireland Group - it was Delta Zero Five.

But Bert in his bus may've been tempted to cuss, or to shake his fist in the air,

The look on his face seemed to say, "What a case? What the hell is he doing there?"

When George is next back along that rough track, he should not be surprised if he finds

Distinctive marking, to keep him from parking! Double yellow lines!

There are strange things done in the name of fun by the folk known as radio hams,

For the many an hour spent transceiving on air they certainly have no qualms.

Thanks due again for the Rathlin Weekend, three memorable days and nights,

To Lighthouse Attendant Noel McCurdy, and Commissioners of Irish Lights.

"I cannot turn a silken phrase, nor make a sonnet sing,

Yet I must write my chronicle"... in ears the words to ring

About our short while on Rathlin Isle, enjoyable for all three,

It's very clear I'm no Shakespeare, but let this my record be.

George McHugh, GI4SRQ – August, 2002.

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