From the archives – Enter Brian Gardiner

By Bob Robertson

Enter Brian Gardiner, Wednesday sailing mid-1984.

On arriving at the club to go sailing one Wednesday I was approached by Ron LeCompte asking if I was going sailing and did I have a spot for him. No worries you will be right.

A few minutes later he was back explaining he had a mate with him. Did I have room for him? ‘Yes, it will be okay. Be down at the boat at one fifteen’.

On arriving at the boat I was introduced to a large raw-bone, ginger-haired guy called Brian Gardner, who then proceeded to tell me that he mightn’t be much good as he had a crook back. My first reaction was to give him the flick, but then I said put your arms out horizontal and I noticed his reach was about 200 mm longer than mine. Yes, I have job for you!

Onto the boat and down the companionway, hold onto the companionway and see if you can reach the fridge? First test passed. Can you reach the beer in the fridge? Second test passed. Now, you have a job that won’t hurt your back when I yell out more piss, you just send the cans up.

During the course of the race the call for more piss was heard more than trim the bloody main. On returning to the club my new crew member said to me, ‘I like this sailing. I wouldn’t mind doing some more’.

Enter a new man at the club.

A few beers later our new man was really enjoying this sailing gig and he really wanted to get into it, so I suggested he do a delivery trip with me as I was taking the boat to Sydney in the next few weeks. As he was eager to learn and liked the idea of a fridge being handy, he readily agreed to come. At this stage I considered it prudent to inform him that the consumption of beers was limited to two in the afternoon at happy hour as I was starting to form the opinion that this guy liked a cool drink on a hot day.

Anyway, over the next few weeks Brian became my right-hand man in getting the boat ready for the delivery.

D Day arrived and we departed Mooloolaba around midday and headed to Cape Moreton where we had our first happy hour a few hours later as we were approaching Point Lookout. I suggested that I would go below and prepare dinner. After getting the stove going and getting the meal on I poured myself a small wine.  Brian, who was sitting in the cockpit, looked down into the boat and seeing my wine said ‘I will have one of those’. No, was my reply. I have explained to you that two cans at happy hour was the limit, except the chef who is allowed to partake in a small wine in the preparation of the meal.

Our new recruit wasn’t happy, but accepted the fact that the captain had spoken.

That night we experienced beautiful winter sailing conditions, nice westerly breeze, flat seas and a three-quarter moon. Because of Brian’s lack of sea miles I had him on my watch and I had encountered no problems with his enthusiasm and his want to learn. The conditions were great, but with the clear sky at five in morning the temperature had dropped to about five degrees.

I was steering at the time and my new crew man said ‘would you like some breakfast, bacon, eggs, mushrooms and a few more exciting items?’. I said can cook and he explained he was quite a competent cook. I thought what a bonus, a bloke that wants to sail, helps with the pre-delivery preparation and can cook.

As I was thinking my luck was changing I looked below to see how my gourmet breakfast was going. The stove had not been lit, but here was my new crew member sculling a glass of wine. After giving him a 10 minute blast his reply was, ‘the chef is allowed to partake in the preparation of the meal’.

How did Brian get the name Big Dog ?

Trevor (Trusty) Gourlay was sailing with us in those days and one of his bosses, Dr Joe Savage, used to join us after the races and he had a habit of referring to people as big dog, but the only one it suited was the BIG DOG.

Rest in peace big fellow.