This photograph captures a distinguished gathering of nautical enthusiasts assembled for what may have been the final "old-style" regatta in Dunmore, circa 1964. The men are assembled to present prizes for the sailing races.
From left to right: Captain D.P. Carroll, the Harbour Master; Dick Murphy, Dunmore East Lifeboat engineer, Iain Farrell, the Waterford solicitor with saltwater in his veins; Dr. Hans Winklemann of Waterford Glass, a man as precise in sailing as he was in glassmaking; Robbie Jephson, the visionary behind Ardkeen Shopping Centre; David McBride of Graves & Co., bridging New Ross and Waterford with trade and tides; and Rickard Farrell, another solicitor whose life was intertwined with the sea.
Among them, Dr. Winklemann stood out, an experienced mariner who found solace in the solitude of the waves. His yacht the Iolanthe, was his sanctuary, and he often sailed alone, trusting his skill against the whims of the Atlantic. But the sea, as ever, remained indifferent to expertise. In September 1965, during a routine voyage from Kinsale to Baltimore, a storm overtook him. The yacht vanished; the man was lost.
The story below is based on newspaper reports of the time. It is a tale of tragedy, and the unanswerable questions that linger when the sea claims one of its own.
The Last Voyage of Dr. Hans Winklemann
The morning of September 16, 1965, dawned calm over Kinsale Harbour, the water shimmering under a pale autumn sun. Dr. Hans Winklemann, a respected technical director of Waterford Glass Ltd., stood on the deck of his white gaff-rigged yacht, Iolanthe, preparing for what should have been a routine journey to Baltimore. The 41-year-old engineer, a naturalised Irish citizen, was a seasoned yachtsman who understood both the precision of glassmaking and the unpredictability of the sea. Yet, as he set sail in the early hours, none could have foreseen that this voyage would be his last.
A Life of Achievement
Born in Belgium in 1924, Hans Winklemann had come to Ireland with his parents in 1932. Educated at Sandford Park and later Trinity College Dublin, he earned a PhD from Sheffield University, establishing himself as an accomplished engineer. His career at Waterford Glass was marked by innovation. He was instrumental in the company’s success, even helping to maintain production during a crippling gas strike by recalling retired female workers who knew how to operate the old machines.
Outside work, Winklemann was a devoted family man, married with one son, and an accomplished sailor. Just months before his disappearance, he had won the News and Star prize at Waterford Harbour’s open sailing weekend. His brother, Professor Franz Winklemann of Trinity College Dublin, later spoke of his passion for the sea, recalling how Hans had always found solace in sailing.
The Fateful Journey
On September 12, Winklemann had told George Frederick Good, a Kinsale resident, that he was taking Iolanthe to Baltimore for winter repairs. The yacht, a 40-foot vessel he kept at Dunmore East, had a slight leak beneath the mast, and he wanted her chainplates replaced. Patrick Hegarty, a boatbuilder in Skibbereen, had been expecting written instructions for the work, but they never arrived.
At 3 a.m. on September 16, witnesses saw Iolanthe slipping out of Kinsale Harbour. John Burns, skipper of the trawler Tusacairt, spotted the yacht later that morning as he fished beyond the harbour. The sea was still calm, but Burns knew that the forecast warned of worsening conditions. The weather subsequently deteriorated, with winds reaching force eight to nine on the Beaufort scale and whipping the water into a frenzy. The stretch between Galley Head and Baltimore was notorious for its submerged rocks, a treacherous passage even for experienced sailors.
A Mystery at Sea
When Winklemann failed to arrive in Baltimore, no immediate alarm was raised. It was not until September 29 that Denis Deasy, skipper of the trawler Martha Helen, spotted a body floating four miles south of Baltimore. The body, still supported by an inflated lifejacket, was badly decomposed. A post-mortem examination by Dr. Michael O’Sullivan indicated that the man had been in the water for about two weeks and had died by drowning. The lifejacket suggested that he had taken precautions, but what had happened to Iolanthe?
Over the following weeks, fragments of a white yacht washed ashore on Sherkin Island and Cape Clear. Garda John O’Driscoll documented the findings, but the main wreckage was never recovered. The prevailing theory was that Iolanthe had been caught in the storm of September 17, perhaps driven against rocks or swamped by waves. With no reported distress signal or witnesses to the sinking, the exact circumstances remained a mystery.
The Inquest and Aftermath
At the inquest in Skibbereen, coroner Dr. C. G. Quigley presided over sombre proceedings. Witnesses recounted Winklemann’s last known movements, while his brother, Franz, and Thomas Healy of Waterford Glass testified to his character. The jury returned a verdict of accidental drowning, a conclusion that offered little comfort to his grieving family.
The loss of Dr. Hans Winklemann was felt throughout the communities of Waterford and Dublin. Tributes highlighted both his professional achievements and his warmth as a husband, father and friend. His car, parked at Kinsale pier with personal papers inside, stood as a poignant reminder of a journey cut short.
Legacy of a Lost Mariner
In the years that followed, the story of Iolanthe became a cautionary tale among sailors, a reminder of the sea’s unforgiving nature. For Waterford Glass, Winklemann’s absence was deeply felt. His technical expertise had made a significant contribution to the company, and his achievements formed part of its history.
Questions remain about the loss of Iolanthe. Did the yacht capsize in the storm? Did her known leak worsen in heavy seas? Was there some other failure aboard? The precise circumstances of Dr. Hans Winklemann’s final voyage remain unknown, leaving the story of a man of science whose life ended on the sea he loved.