The RNLB St. Patrick - 1975 - 1996

The Arrival of the St Patrick (1975)

In the spring of 1975, Dunmore East awoke to a moment of quiet pride and anticipation. On Wednesday morning, 19 March, a new Waveney-class lifeboat — the St Patrick — slipped into the harbour under a slate-grey sky, her name already stirring a sense of belonging among the fishermen and families gathered along the quays. Only two days later, the Munster Express would announce the news in bold lettering:

“£100,000 lifeboat arrives at Dunmore East.”

Her voyage had begun the previous night in Cornwall. Under the command of Lieut-Comdr P. F. B. Roe, Inspector of Lifeboats in Ireland, the new craft cut steadily across the channel, accompanied by Dunmore’s own Coxswain, Stephen Whittle, who had travelled over to bring her home. Now, as she came to rest alongside the wall, still gleaming from her journey, there was a sense that Dunmore East — long shaped by the sorrow and salvation of the sea — was entering a new chapter in its maritime story.

Waiting to receive her were familiar faces: Stanley Power, honorary secretary of the Dunmore East Lifeboat, and Col. B. Clark, National Organiser of the RNLI. The men stood with hands tucked against the cold, watching as the new arrival settled into the water she would come to know better than any chart.

Though smaller in appearance than some of her predecessors, the St Patrick represented a leap forward in design. Developed from a United States Coast Guard model, the Waveney class combined strength with remarkable manoeuvrability. Her steel hull — divided into seven watertight compartments — carried an aluminium superstructure designed to self-right in the event of capsize. Below decks, twin General Motors diesel engines sat coiled with readiness, capable of driving her at over sixteen knots and carrying her 180 miles at cruising speed without the need for refuelling.

Yet it was not just her power that impressed; it was her purpose. The St Patrick could shelter twenty-six survivors beneath her deck, and she carried the full armoury of a modern rescue craft: radar, radio direction-finding gear, echo sounder, and the life-saving tools of the trade — line-throwing gun, breeches buoy, first aid, emergency rations, blankets. She was, in every respect, a vessel built for the realities of the Irish coast.

Her arrival also carried an emotional weight far beyond her steel and engines. She was the product of a nationwide fundraising effort during 1974, the year the RNLI marked its 150th anniversary. For twelve months, communities across the Republic of Ireland had gathered coins in collection boxes, held dances, raffles, concerts, and made donations in memory of loved ones lost to the sea. They had raised £65,000 — a remarkable achievement — with more still hoped for. The St Patrick was a symbol of the country’s gratitude for a century and a half of courageous service.

Dunmore East’s crews would now spend two weeks “working the boat up,” learning her movements, her responsiveness, and her temper. These early hours and days of familiarisation would be the foundation upon which many future rescues — and some of the most storied chapters in the lifeboat’s history — would rest.

For now, though, she lay quietly in the harbour, dressed modestly in her new colours, awaiting the call of the sea. Fishermen paused at their work to look her over; families strolled down to the wall to see this “fast lady” for themselves; and the village, so often defined by the sound of engines heading into a rising wind, found a new sense of reassurance in her presence.

Dunmore East had a new guardian. And the story of the St Patrick had only just begun.

First Call-Out & Early Service (1975)

The St Patrick had scarcely settled into her new moorings when the sea called upon her for the first time. It was June 11, 1975 — a Wednesday night that began quietly in Dunmore East but would soon turn into a stark demonstration of why lifeboats are built, crewed, and cherished.

Shortly after midnight, word arrived that a German seaman from the cargo vessel Cape Ray had fallen overboard in the Waterford Harbour Estuary. The man, a second mate, had been leaning over to inspect the draught from a ladder when, in a single misstep, he disappeared into the dark waters below. His crewmates, unable to locate him in the tide-ripped blackness, sent out the alarm.

Within minutes, the St Patrick put to sea under Coxswain Stephen Whittle, her engines thundering into life for the first time in earnest service. She was joined quickly by the trawler Brendette and several salmon boats — a reminder, as ever, that rescue in these waters is a partnership between the RNLI and the fishing community whose lives are so entwined with the sea.

The night was moonless and the tide was running strongly out of the estuary, sweeping the missing man farther from safety with every passing minute. To illuminate the vast search area, the lifeboat crew fired flare after flare, each ascending into the darkness before bursting into a wash of brilliant light over the water. The explosions briefly revealed the outlines of searching boats, the choppy surface of the ebbing tide, and the enormity of the task facing the rescuers.

More than an hour passed. The sea grew colder. Voices were carried away by the wind. Many feared that the darkness had claimed another life.

And then, at last, hope answered: the Cape Ray’s own lifeboat located the missing man. Exhausted, battered by the tide, and close to surrender, he was hauled aboard by his crewmates. He later told rescuers that he had “almost given up hope” — a stark reminder of how close this first service had come to tragedy.

The Cape Ray herself was inbound from the West Indies, carrying a cargo of sugar to Waterford. That night, however, she carried with her the echoes of relief and the knowledge that her luck had changed only because of the combined efforts of the Dunmore East lifeboat crew, the local fishermen, and the determination of those who refused to give up the search.

For the crew of the St Patrick, it was a baptism of purpose. The new boat had now proven herself in the waters she had been built to serve. The flares that lit the sky over Waterford Harbour on that June night became the first brushstrokes in a long and distinguished record of service.

As the summer of 1975 unfolded, the St Patrick would have little time to rest. July and August brought busy weeks, with call-outs coming from a coast that, in spite of fair weather, never ceased to challenge those who ventured upon it. Each launch deepened the crew’s confidence in their new craft.

The St Patrick was no longer a lifeboat newly arrived from Cornwall. She was now the working heart of the Dunmore East station — just beginning a storied career that would span twenty-one years and leave a legacy written not in headlines, but in lives saved from the sea.

The Naming Ceremony (September 1975):

On Sunday, 14 September 1975, Dunmore East awoke to one of the proudest mornings in its maritime history. The village stirred early under a brilliant autumn sun, its air sharpened by a northerly wind that lifted the white tops from the waves and sent them skipping toward the harbour wall. It was, in every way, a day made for celebration.

For this was the day the new Dunmore East lifeboat would officially receive her name — St Patrick — and her place among the fleet of the Royal National Lifeboat Institution.

The occasion wasn't just a local ceremony. It was a national moment, a culmination of the RNLI’s 150th anniversary appeal of 1974, during which communities throughout the Republic of Ireland had contributed generously to the lifeboat’s cost. As the RNLI’s journal The Lifeboat recorded, it was “a great day for the whole of the Republic of Ireland.”

The morning began to the stirring sound of pipes and drums. The De La Salle Band, immaculate in their dress uniforms, marched through the town and down the winding road toward the harbour, drawing behind them a stream of villagers, visitors, fishermen, families, and lifeboat supporters from every corner of the country. Their music echoed against the cliff face as the procession rounded the final bend, revealing the harbour spread below like a natural amphitheatre.

There she lay: St Patrick, dressed overall in her finest colours, flags dancing in the stiff breeze. Beside her rested the coastal minesweeper Fola, while yachts bobbed at their moorings and the herring fleet — a pageant of colour in its own right — completed the scene. It was, in every sense, a gathering of Ireland’s maritime world.

The ceremony was performed by Mrs. Peter Barry, wife of the Minister for Transport and Power, who travelled to the village especially for the event.

The occasion drew a remarkable gathering of distinguished guests, lifeboat personnel, dignitaries, and supporters from across Ireland and beyond. The Chairman of the Committee of Management of the RNLI, accompanied by Mrs. Farrant, made the journey to Ireland specifically for the ceremony, joining many notable figures connected with lifeboat work throughout the country.

Among the chief guests were the Minister for Transport and Power, Peter Barry and Mrs. Barry. The Diplomatic Corps was strongly represented by Their Excellencies the Belgian Ambassador and Mrs. Stevens, the British Ambassador Sir Arthur Galsworthy, and the USSR Charge d’Affaires, Mr. G. I. Stepanov. Also present were Senators and TDs, the Deputy Mayor of Waterford, and Mrs. S. Rogers.

The Irish members of the RNLI Committee of Management were represented by Mr. Clayton Love Junior and Captain Peter Kavanagh, NS. In his role as Commanding Officer of the Naval Service, Captain Kavanagh arranged a fitting display of solidarity through the attendance of the coastal minesweeper LE Fola, which added greatly to the atmosphere. Support also came from the Commissioners of Irish Lights: the Chairman and Mrs. Douglas were in attendance. Another cooperative gesture was the attendance of the Irish Lights tender Isolda, dressed overall, it’s presence made a striking sight in the harbour.

The Dunmore East lifeboat community rallied in full force. Leading the local representation were Coxswain and Mrs. Stephen Whittle; Mr. and Mrs. Stanley Power, with Mr. Power serving as honorary secretary; Mr. Arthur Westcott-Pitt, a former honorary secretary and chairman of the day’s proceedings; and members of the Ladies’ Lifeboat Guild, including Mrs. Doreen Murphy, honorary secretary.

In a particularly warm moment during the ceremony, Louise Whittle presented Mrs. Peter Barry with a large bouquet of flowers, a gesture that was greatly appreciated and fondly remembered.

The lifeboat crew present on the day were: Sean Kearns, Brendan Glody, Maurice Glody, Stephen Whittle, John Walsh, Jofie Murphy, and Thomas McGrath. They were introduced to the Minister and Mrs. Barry by Mr. Stanley Power, and their presence symbolised the dedication and courage at the heart of the Dunmore East station.

The station also welcomed many visiting coxswains and crew members from around the country, those present included:

• Mr. & Mrs. Gerry McLoughlin, Howth

• Mr. & Mrs. Eric Offer, Dun Laoghaire

• Mr. & Mrs. Bill Stafford, Rosslare Harbour

• Mr. & Mrs. Tom Walsh, Kilmore Quay

• Mr. & Mrs. Christopher Hennessy, Youghal

• Mr. & Mrs. Owen Kavanagh, Arranmore

Their support, along with that of their families, reinforced the unity of Ireland’s lifeboat community.

The naming of RNLB St. Patrick became a memorable celebration — one that those fortunate enough to attend would look back on with great pleasure for years to come. From international diplomats to local volunteers, every attendee contributed to an atmosphere of pride, and shared commitment to lifesaving at sea. All connected with the Dunmore East station deservedly earned high praise for organising such a successful and heartfelt event.

Tragedy at Falskirt Rock (1976):

A Night of Courage and Loss

It was in the small hours of Friday, 9 July 1976, that Dunmore East awoke to one of the most harrowing services in the St Patrick’s long career — a night that would be remembered not only for the bravery displayed, but for the sorrow that remained long after the dawn broke.

The sea was restless in those hours before daylight, rolling heavily around Falskirt Rock, a jagged outcrop east of Dunmore where the Atlantic swell gathers its strength before breaking against the cliffs. It was here that brothers Ian and Colm Power, fishing from an 18-foot salmon punt, met with sudden disaster.

Shortly after 2 a.m., Paul Power, himself fishing nearby in another punt, witnessed the unthinkable — the brothers’ small boat, its drift nets caught on the rock, lifted high by a swell and dashed violently onto Falskirt. In the darkness and danger, with nets in the water and no safe way to assist, Paul made immediately for the MFV Lone Ranger, skippered by Paddy Healy, his mind racing with dread.

A message was passed by VHF to Jim Heffernan at the Pilot Station, who quickly phoned Coxswain Stephen Whittle. Within minutes, the Dunmore East lifeboat maroons tore through the night sky at 02:54 hrs, their echo rolling across the sleeping village. The crew assembled with instinctive speed — men who had spent their lives working these waters, and who understood, perhaps better than anyone, the fear that must have gripped the two young brothers clinging to a broken boat.

By 03:05 hrs, the St Patrick slipped from the harbour, her engines pushing her into the darkness toward a scene that would test every ounce of seamanship, courage, and local knowledge possessed by her crew.

The conditions were perilous. The swell was heavy, visibility was poor, and worse still, the sea was choked with drift nets stretching more than half a mile from Falskirt Rock, some trailing dangerously close to the narrow, rock-strewn channels the lifeboat would need to negotiate. Lobster pots added further hazards. The salmon boats and the Lone Ranger were already searching, but none dared approach too closely.

At 04:12 hrs, after nearly an hour of painstaking searching through the swell, the lifeboat crew spotted a figure — young Colm Power, clinging to the waterlogged remains of the capsized punt. He had been in the water for nearly two hours, fighting exhaustion and the cold. With the lifeboat at times only half a boat’s length from the rocks, her propellers dangerously exposed to ropes and nets, Coxswain Whittle and his crew managed to haul the exhausted sixteen-year-old into safety.

But of his older brother, Ian, there was no sign.

The search continued with grim determination. Parachute flares were fired into the grey dawn, each casting a brief, ghostly illumination over the cliff base and the broken sea. Men on the clifftop shouted into the wind, directing the searchlight where they could. Others scrambled down the treacherous slopes to coves where debris washed ashore.

The decision was then made to land Colm — badly chilled and traumatised after two hours in the sea — at Dunmore East. At 05:00 hrs, he was passed into the care of a doctor and taken swiftly to hospital.

There was no rest for the crew. They immediately returned to the search.

Throughout the morning, as the seas eased and daylight strengthened, the St Patrick, a helicopter, and shore teams from Dunmore East, Tramore, and Fishguard scoured a wide area. But despite every effort, Ian Power had vanished into the unforgiving waters. The search was eventually abandoned at 11:40 hrs.

The loss was devastating. Ian was just beginning his adult life, a young fisherman whose future, like so many in Dunmore East, would have been bound to the sea.

In the spring of the following year, The Lifeboat journal published a detailed account of the service. Its conclusion spoke with rare force:

“This was a service which could only have been carried out by a man with thorough knowledge of the area, outstanding seamanship and great courage.”

For his actions that night, Coxswain/Mechanic Stephen Whittle received a Bar to his Bronze Medal for Gallantry — one of the RNLI’s highest honours.

Medal Service Certificates were also awarded to:

• Second Coxswain John Walsh

• Motor Mechanic Joseph Murphy

• Assistant Mechanic Brendan Glody

• Crew Members Stanley Power Jnr., Kieran O’Dwyer, and Louis O’Dwyer
  
  

It was a recognition not only of one decisive rescue, but of the collective courage of a crew who risked everything to save whom they could, and who persevered long after hope had dimmed.

In the official service report, Stanley Power, Honorary Secretary, added a final, deeply human note:

“The rescue of Colm Power would not have been accomplished without the courage, skill, and local knowledge of Coxswain Stephen Whittle, who had fished this area since boyhood. This was a very difficult night service.”

It was a night that left an indelible mark on the community — one of immense bravery and unbearable loss, united forever in the memory of Dunmore East.

The Mystery of the Russian Seaman’s Death

September 1976:

The summer of 1976 had scarcely faded when Dunmore East found itself drawn into a service unlike any other in the St Patrick’s early years — a rescue tinged not with triumph or tragedy alone, but with deep and lingering mystery.

On the evening of Friday, 17 September 1976, at 18:15 hrs, a message arrived from Shannon Marine Rescue Coordination Centre: a seaman on board a Russian fishing vessel, lying some twenty-seven miles south-west of Hook Head, was gravely injured and required urgent evacuation.

With characteristic speed, arrangements were made. The St Patrick was away within minutes, but not with her usual complement alone. Two first-aiders were brought on board: John Murphy and John Tod, Deputy Launching Authority. Heavy weather was rolling in from the Atlantic, and the service ahead promised to be both difficult and unusual.

The casualty vessel was no ordinary trawler.
She was a vast Soviet factory ship, the Belinskiy, part of the enormous Russian fleet that worked the Celtic Sea during those years — an offshore city of steel, processing fish around the clock. As the St Patrick approached, her powerful silhouette grew through the evening haze, towering over the smaller craft like a floating fortress.

Communication with the Russian captain proved difficult and, at times, exasperating. Despite deteriorating weather, he refused all requests to approach the calmer waters of Waterford Harbour, insisting instead that the transfer be carried out in the open sea, a full 2½ miles south-west of Hook Head. The decision baffled the Irish crew but left them no choice.

Under the shadow of the great vessel, the St Patrick manoeuvred with delicate precision. In the heaving swell, the two first-aiders were transferred onto the Belinskiy, where they discovered the injured man — a Russian seaman suffering horrifying facial and throat injuries. It was immediately clear that the transfer would need to be done by stretcher.

The operation was fraught with danger. The lifeboat rose and fell sharply alongside the steel hull, the gap between the vessels widening and narrowing unpredictably. At last, during a brief window of opportunity, the stretcher was passed from ship to lifeboat. No sooner had the injured man been secured aboard the St Patrick than the Belinskiy, without ceremony or pause, turned and steamed away to rejoin the fishing fleet — a detail not lost on the lifeboat crew and later noted in press reports.

The St Patrick raced back to Dunmore East, where an ambulance was waiting on the quay. Despite the best effort of those on board, the man was pronounced dead on arrival at Waterford’s Ardkeen Hospital.

The inquest held the following day deepened the mystery. Coxswain Stephen Whittle and John Tod gave evidence, and the medical findings were stark: the man’s injuries — severe trauma to the face, mouth, hand, and throat — were consistent with the explosion of a flare pistol capsule. Whether the detonation was accidental or otherwise remained unspoken.

The Russian Consul in Ireland identified the dead man only through a passport photograph and awaited an explanation from the ship’s owners. None came publicly.

For the crew of the St Patrick, the service remained memorable not for its skill — though great skill had been required — nor for the violence of the sea, but for the air of unanswered questions that lingered long after. Dunmore East had faced many tragedies at sea, but few so clouded in silence, and none involving a vessel so reluctant to cooperate.

It would not be the last time the Soviet fleets would encounter the Dunmore East lifeboat — but seldom again would the circumstances feel quite so unsettling.

1979: The Fastnet Storm

The Sea Showed That It Can Be a Deadly Enemy

In the long history of the RNLI, few events are remembered with such awe and sorrow as the 1979 Fastnet Race, a catastrophe that unfolded with terrifying speed and caught even the most seasoned mariners unprepared. For Dunmore East and the crew of the St Patrick, the storm would become one of the defining episodes of their service — a test of endurance, courage, and seamanship that would be spoken of with quiet respect for decades afterwards.

The Fastnet Race had begun on 11 August 1979, as it always did, with a spirit of excitement and friendly competition. From Cowes on the Isle of Wight, 303 yachts — crewed by over 2,500 sailors from around the world — set course westward along the English coast, across the Irish Sea, and finally toward the lonely sentinel of the Fastnet Rock before turning for home.

The weather at the start was benign. But lurking beyond the horizon was a deep Atlantic depression that would soon grow into a violent, unexpected Force 10 storm. Within two days, the race had been transformed from a sporting spectacle into a desperate struggle for survival.

Many of the sailors were weekend enthusiasts, accustomed to club races rather than ocean storms. Their inexperience under such fury would prove fatal.

Five yachts were lost. Fifteen sailors died from capsized or abandoned vessels. A further four perished from a catamaran caught in the same system. Yachts were scattered across hundreds of miles of sea in varying stages of distress. It was one of the worst maritime disasters in the history of recreational sailing.cockney

Dunmore East Receives the Call:

On Tuesday, 14 August 1979, the storm’s full horror was already unfolding when a message reached Dunmore East’s lifeboat station: a yacht named Wild Goose was last reported 52 miles south of the station, drifting at five knots. The St Patrick, under the command of Acting Coxswain John Murphy, launched at 09:05 hrs into heavy seas, her crew bracing themselves for a long and arduous day.

Almost immediately, the search area shifted. New information placed the missing yacht 45 miles south of Mine Head. The St Patrick, battling waves that hindered her speed to around 12 knots, pressed on with relentless determination.

Then came word of another vessel: the oil-rig supply ship Gulf Link 18, already in the storm zone, had recovered seven survivors from a yacht and was continuing the search for Wild Goose. Morale lifted — faintly, but noticeably. The knowledge that others were fighting the same battle gave strength to the exhausted crews scattered across the sea.

By mid-afternoon, the St Patrick sighted the yachts Korsar, Autonomy, and Juggernaut, each battered and adrift. Autonomy, carrying a crew of eight, was without steering; Juggernaut had lost power, her boom broken, and was drifting blindly southwest, the crew unaware of their position.

Assessing the situation with the calm clarity that marks a seasoned crew, Acting Coxswain Murphy made the decision:

• The St Patrick would tow Autonomy,

• While simultaneously escorting Juggernaut through the chaos.

Progress was agonisingly slow. Against the combined forces of wind and storm surge, the lifeboat could manage barely three knots while towing. The distance home was long, the conditions merciless.

It would be after midnight when the St Patrick finally brought both vessels into the safety of Dunmore East — 00:30 hrs on 15 August — but even then, their work was not finished. With scarcely a moment to rest, the crew returned to sea to escort two more yachts to safety, only completing their duties at 01:45 hrs.

Recognition of Exceptional Service

In the aftermath of the disaster, the RNLI acknowledged the extraordinary contributions made by every station involved. Thirteen lifeboats from Ireland and the UK had collectively spent more than 170 hours at sea during the storm, many without pause.

Dunmore East was awarded a Special Framed Certificate, recognising the exceptional efforts of the St Patrick and her crew.

Those on board during the long Fastnet service were:

• John Murphy, Acting Coxswain

• John Walsh, Second Coxswain

• Seán Kearns, Mechanic

• Joefy Murphy, Crew

• Patrick Glody, Crew
  
  

The Service Report recorded that John Walsh and Joefy Murphy suffered heavy bruising, having been thrown about inside the lifeboat during the worst of the storm — testament to the violence they faced.

An official inquiry into the disaster followed. Though the race organisers, the Royal Ocean Racing Club, were cleared of blame, the report delivered a stark admonition:

“The sea showed that it can be a deadly enemy and that those who go to sea for pleasure must do so in full knowledge that they may encounter dangers of the highest order.”

The tragedy changed the face of yacht racing.

• VHF radios became mandatory.

• Qualifications and sea-survival training were required for skippers.

• Race numbers were capped; safety became paramount.
  
  

For Dunmore East, the memory of that storm endured not in statistics, but in the faces of those rescued, the exhaustion of those who served, and the knowledge that the St Patrick had stood firm in the darkest hours.

A Reunion After 40 Years

In July 2019, long after the storm had passed into history, the St Patrick’s role found a place in a moment of quiet gratitude. Matthew Power, who had been just nineteen when rescued from Autonomy, returned to Dunmore East for the first time in forty years. Along with his sister Frances, he met the surviving crew who had brought them home in 1979.

They gathered at the Waterford Harbour Sailing Club, recalling that night of terror and the profound relief that followed. For John Murphy, Joefy Murphy, John Walsh, and Patrick Glody, it was a rare chance to see the lasting impact of their courage.

The sea had been merciless that night, but the men of the St Patrick had not yielded.

1982: The City of Tema Rescue

A Cargo Ship in Peril

In the early hours of 21 February 1982, the crew of the St Patrick faced one of the most daunting maritime challenges of the decade — a desperate call from a large cargo ship in grave danger, battling a gale in the open sea. It is remembered as a night when the boundaries between disaster and deliverance hung by the narrowest of threads, and when the skill and composure of the Dunmore East lifeboat crew proved decisive.

A Distress Call in the Darkness

At 02:15 hrs, the Irish Marine Rescue Coordination Centre at Shannon relayed an urgent message: the City Of Tema, a 2,500-ton cargo vessel, was in severe difficulty 22 miles southeast of Dunmore East. She was on passage from Belfast to Ipswich, travelling in ballast with a crew of twenty, when she suffered catastrophic engine trouble.

Without the ability to hold her bow into the oncoming seas, the ship was turning beam-on to a force 8–9 south-easterly gale — a deeply perilous situation for any large vessel. Waves pounded her hull. The master feared capsizing. Unless immediate assistance arrived, he warned, he would be forced to run the vessel aground on the nearest sandy beach to save the crew.

It was a stark and chilling prospect.

At Dunmore East, Coxswain Stephen Whittle and his crew responded with instinctive speed. Within minutes, the St Patrick was underway, driving into the worsening gale with measured urgency. The lifeboat could not maintain full speed — even she, with all her strength, had to fight for progress against the weight of the storm — but she forged ahead, her twin engines pushing against the darkness and the roar of the wind.

Locating the Stricken Ship

Shortly after 03:30 hrs, the crew sighted the lights of the City Of Tema, rising and falling in the violent swell. Communication was difficult in the screaming wind, so a parachute flare was fired to signal the lifeboat’s presence. Its bright arc illuminated the chaos: a large vessel struggling in heavy seas, the gale tearing across the water with relentless fury.

Adding to the drama, a British search-and-rescue helicopter arrived overhead, its searchlight cutting through the darkness as it circled the ship, ready to assist if the situation deteriorated further.

A Battle Toward Safety

The task ahead was clear: escort the ship toward the relative shelter of Waterford Harbour, while the helicopter remained vigilant above. Coxswain Whittle positioned the St Patrick ahead of the cargo ship, guiding her through the pitch-black turbulence. It was a delicate and hazardous undertaking — a small lifeboat shepherding a massive, partially disabled vessel through one of the strongest gales of the winter.

As they approached Creadan Head, the seas gradually eased. Here, a remarkable and crucial transition took place.

Second Coxswain John Walsh, a highly experienced Waterford Harbour Pilot, boarded the City Of Tema and assumed responsibility for navigating her up the narrow and winding estuary. Taking the helm in such conditions demanded skill, instinct, and decades of local knowledge. Walsh brought the vessel safely upriver to a secure anchorage above Passage East — a feat later singled out for special praise.

Official Recognition

The significance of this service was not lost on the RNLI’s senior leadership. The Chief of Operations wrote to Dunmore East Honorary Secretary JR Tod, expressing deep appreciation for the “splendid efforts” of Coxswain Whittle and his crew, with particular emphasis on the pivotal role played by Second Coxswain Walsh.

It was a night in which every element of expertise — engineering, seamanship, communication, and courage — was called upon in full. Without swift response, the ship  might well have been lost with all hands.

The storm did not relent for others in the region. Around the same time, two fishermen from Passage East narrowly survived when their boat, the Maria Theresa, capsized in the Suir Estuary. They spent nearly fifteen minutes clinging to a floating plank before being spotted by a relative on the shore and rescued by the fishing boat Harbour Pride.
Even this modest story, overshadowed by the drama offshore, underscored how treacherous that week’s weather had been.

A Night That Echoed Through the Years

The rescue of the City of Tema stands tall in the long record of the St Patrick. It was a demonstration of coordination between sea and air, of calm judgment under pressure, and of the intimate local knowledge that has always been the hallmark of Dunmore East’s lifesaving tradition.

For Coxswain Whittle and his men, it was another chapter written in wind and darkness — a story of courage that would live on in the community’s memory long after the storm had passed.

1984: A Centenary Year and a Changing of the Guard

The year 1984 arrived with a quiet sense of significance in Dunmore East. It marked not only the passing of another season by the sea, but a milestone in the long and proud history of the village’s life-saving tradition: the centenary of the Dunmore East Lifeboat Station, established in 1884. One hundred years of service, sacrifice, and courage — a century in which countless lives had been lifted from danger by men who asked for nothing more than the chance to bring others home.

But the jubilee year also heralded change. Two of the most familiar and respected figures in the community’s maritime life — Coxswain Stephen Whittle and Honorary Secretary Stanley Power — were preparing to step down after careers that had shaped the character and reputation of the station for decades.

Stephen Whittle’s Retirement:

In March, newspapers across Ireland carried the news: “Lifeboat Hero to Retire.”

Coxswain Stephen Whittle, the most decorated RNLI crewman in Ireland, would retire that May after twenty-five years of service and the saving of more than 200 lives. For Dunmore East, his departure was deeply felt. Whittle embodied the quiet authority and instinctive seamanship of a man who had grown up with the sea in his blood. From his first call-out as a young crewman, to his medal-winning gallantry at Falskirt Rock in 1976, he had become a symbol of what it meant to serve.

Yet Whittle was not the only figure preparing to close a chapter. Honorary Secretary Stanley Power, whose calm stewardship of the station spanned twenty years, also announced his retirement. And Ron Chedgey, Treasurer, stepped aside after long and valued service. Their departures marked the end of an era.

Into this moment of transition stepped Lt. Commander JJ Grannell, appointed as the new Honorary Secretary — a respected figure with deep roots in the maritime life of the region.

The St Patrick Leaves for Refit

For much of 1984, the St Patrick herself was away from Dunmore East. She had been sent to Holyhead, Anglesey, for a major refit — a full restoration of her machinery and equipment after nine years of demanding service. While she was away, the RNLI sent a relief lifeboat to Dunmore East: the Margaret Graham, a vessel with her own distinguished pedigree.

The Margaret Graham was one of the early Waveney-class lifeboats, built in 1967 for the busy Harwich station in Essex. After years of hard service, she had become a stalwart of the relief fleet, filling in for boats undergoing repair across the British Isles. When she arrived in Dunmore East, she fitted naturally into the harbour’s rhythm — a reminder of the shared heritage that bound lifeboat stations together.

Her history stretched far beyond the Waterford coast. After leaving Harwich in 1980, she spent six more years on relief duty before moving to Amble in Northumberland, where she served another thirteen years. When sold out of RNLI service in 1999, she had saved nearly one hundred lives in a career spanning thirty-three years — a legacy that complemented the vessel she temporarily replaced.

A Community Remembers a Century of Service

With the St Patrick still away in Holyhead, Dunmore East marked its lifeboat centenary in fitting fashion. On Saturday, 24 November 1984, a large crowd gathered at Killea Parish Church for a commemorative service conducted jointly by Canon L. Enright and Fr. D. Quirke.

The ceremony brought together generations of families whose fathers, brothers, and sons had served on the lifeboat. Many had vivid memories of tragedies averted and dangers endured; others recalled stories handed down from earlier times. The sense of pride within the church was unmistakable.

During the service, Olympic gold medallist Ronnie Delany, representing the RNLI’s Committee of Management, presented the Centenary Vellum to Lt. Commander Grannell. It was a formal and moving recognition of the station’s hundred years of dedication to life-saving.

The inscription honoured:

“The devotion and courage of the lifeboat crews who have never failed to maintain the high traditions of the Lifeboat Service.”

A marble plaque, presented by the Ladies Guild, was accepted by Coxswain John Walsh, who had now succeeded Stephen Whittle in command of the St Patrick. It was a symbolic passing of the torch — from one generation of lifeboatmen to the next.

A commemorative dinner at the Ocean Hotel followed, filled with shared memories and a deep appreciation for the role the lifeboat had played in the life of Dunmore East for a century.

At the heart of the celebrations was one stark, humbling statistic:
Over 239 launches in its first hundred years, the Dunmore East lifeboat had saved 222 lives.

The Return of the St Patrick

It was not until January 1985 that the St Patrick finally returned from Holyhead, restored and modernised. The Munster Express published a front-page announcement: “St Patrick — A Fast Lady!”

She was faster now, more agile, and equipped with sophisticated new radio-direction equipment capable of pinpointing distress calls up to sixty miles away. At a cost of £35,000, the refit had transformed her into one of the best-equipped rescue vessels in Europe.

She was ready once again to take her place at the heart of Dunmore East’s maritime life — and ready to face the challenges the coming years would bring.

Christmas Day 1985:

A Holiday Turns to Tragedy at Hook Head

Christmas Day is a time when even the sea, in the imagination at least, seems quieter — when families gather around warm tables, harbour lights twinkle across still water, and the world feels briefly gentler. But for lifeboat crews, Christmas is no different from any other day of the year. The pager can sound at any moment. The sea keeps no calendar.

On the afternoon of 25 December 1985, as families across Waterford and Wexford were settling into holiday celebrations, a sudden, chilling message broke the peace: a man had been swept from the cliffs near Hook Lighthouse, carried away by a massive wave that struck without warning.

The man, 33-year-old Danny Gonzales, was on holiday from Middlesex with five friends. They had set out for a walk along the rugged coastline between Slade and Hook Head, unaware of the treacherous surf building below the cliffs. At 2:30pm, a huge wave surged over the rocks, knocking three members of the group off the cliff and into the boiling sea.

Two were dragged ashore by their companions. But Danny Gonzales disappeared beneath the waves.

Minutes later, the call reached the Dunmore East lifeboat station. The crew — fathers, husbands, brothers — left Christmas dinners unfinished, chairs pushed back from tables, toys lying unopened on floors. Within moments, Coxswain John Walsh and his crew launched the St Patrick into the cold afternoon light at 15:00 hrs.

The weather was unforgiving. Strong onshore winds drove heavy seas against the cliffs near the lighthouse, creating conditions perilous for any vessel, even the seasoned St Patrick. The lifeboat crew searched tirelessly along the base of the cliffs, but the violent swell made close approach nearly impossible.

Meanwhile, on the shoreline, local men volunteered without hesitation. Among them was Declan Hearne of the Fethard Coastal Life Saving Service. Guided by instinct and experience, he ventured onto a tiny, wave-washed beach at Slade Harbour where the man’s body could be seen being pulled in and out by the surf.

The conditions were so dangerous that a rope had to be tied around Hearne’s waist before he descended. The swell exploded around him as he stepped onto the narrow strand, timing his movements between surges. With remarkable bravery, he succeeded in recovering the body of Danny Gonzales, though he later remarked that it was “an absolute miracle” the other two men had been saved at all.

By 17:00 hrs, the St Patrick returned to Dunmore East. The crew — John Walsh, Joefy Murphy, Sean Kearns, John Colfer, and Maurice Glody — disembarked quietly. Their Christmas Day, like so many before and since, had been spent in service, not celebration.

The tragedy cast a long, sombre shadow over the holiday. For the friends and family of the young man who had come to Wexford for a festive break, the heartbreak was immeasurable. For the rescuers, though accustomed to loss, it was another stark reminder that the sea gives no warnings, even on a day meant for peace.

The cliffs of Hook, beautiful and storied, had claimed another life — and Dunmore East’s lifeboat crew had once again answered the call with the steadfastness expected of them, whatever the date, whatever the hour.

1988:The Shortest Rescue on Record
A Lifeboat Launch of Only 120 Yards

By the late 1980s, the St Patrick was a familiar sight to the large French fishing fleet that worked the Celtic Sea. Each winter, dozens of trawlers from Brittany and Normandy created a floating village off the Waterford coast — powerful steel boats riding the Atlantic swell, their deck lights blinking through the night like distant stars.

Dunmore East RNLI became intricately tied to this seasonal fleet. From 1981 to 1996, the St Patrick responded to twenty-five services involving French vessels, most of them medical evacuations: broken limbs, crushed hands, deep lacerations, head injuries — the cruel, sudden dangers of industrial fishing.

But one service — the extraordinary rescue of 12 January 1988 — remains unique in the lifeboat’s long history.

It was, quite possibly, the shortest lifeboat service ever undertaken.

A Storm That Sealed the Harbour

The French trawler Breizh Arvor had arrived into Dunmore East harbour carrying an injured crewman. An ambulance was already waiting on the quay when she berthed. Under normal circumstances, the man would have been taken ashore within minutes.

But the weather had other ideas.

The harbour was being hammered by extreme conditions — a violent sea running straight into the mouth of the port, causing vessels to pitch and heave even at their moorings. Waves smashed against the quayside. No safe gangway could be made. To attempt a transfer directly from the trawler would have risked further injury, or worse.

It was decided: the St Patrick would undertake the rescue. She was moored only 120 yards away.

Launching Into Chaos

At 16:50 hrs, the lifeboat slipped her moorings and turned toward the heavily rolling trawler. The distance was tiny, but the danger very real. In a short, narrow harbour, there is little room to manoeuvre; in a gale, there is even less margin for error.

Dr Brendan O’Farrell, Dunmore East’s medically trained Honorary Secretary — a man whose expertise often proved invaluable — strapped the injured French fisherman to the lifeboat’s stretcher.

Coxswain John Walsh then brought the St Patrick alongside the Breizh Arvor’s port quarter, using every ounce of experience to keep the lifeboat steady as the trawler lurched unpredictably.

A transfer amidships was impossible. The vessels rose and fell out of sync. The gap widened, slammed shut, widened again.

But then, during a critical moment of alignment, the crew acted with flawless timing. The injured man was passed safely onto the lifeboat — a single, decisive movement carried out with the precision of men who had rehearsed such moments only in theory, but who understood instinctively the risks.

Minutes later, the casualty was delivered to the waiting ambulance and transported to hospital.

By 17:30 hrs, the St Patrick was back at her moorings. The service had lasted forty minutes. The entire journey had covered a distance shorter than a village green.

A “Record” of a Different Kind:

In his official report, Dr O’Farrell added a line that captured both the humour and the gravity of the day:

“Perhaps a ‘record’ for the shortest actual distance run by a lifeboat — but a very difficult job, very well done indeed.”

The sea does not always test its rescuers with distance. Sometimes it tests them with precision — with nerve, timing, and the bravery to act in the smallest, most treacherous of spaces.

For the St Patrick, this briefest of voyages would be remembered as one of the most technically challenging manoeuvres she ever undertook.

1990: A Double Tragedy off Bonmahon.

The sea along the Waterford coast is a place of shifting moods — gentle and generous one day, fierce and unforgiving the next. For generations of fishermen from Stradbally, Bonmahon, Annestown, and Tramore, the coastline has been both livelihood and legacy. But it has also been a place of sorrow, where small boats and small communities have faced unimaginable loss.

Such a tragedy struck on the evening of Thursday, 15 February 1990, when word reached Dunmore East that a fishing boat had been wrecked near Ballydwan, a rugged stretch of coast between Bonmahon and Stradbally.

At 18:22 hrs, Gardaí in Tramore reported that one body had been recovered on the rocks — and that another fisherman was missing.

Within minutes, the St Patrick, under Coxswain John Walsh, launched into the winter darkness at 18:38 hrs. The crew knew the coastline well. They knew its hidden ledges, its deceptive swells, the strangely amplified roar of surf beneath the cliffs. And they knew that every minute mattered.

A Sudden Disaster:

The victims were two young men in their early twenties — Brian Day, from the village of Kill, and Mark Dwan, from Bonmahon — close friends and fellow fishermen. Their 18-foot open fibreglass boat, powered by an outboard engine, had been sheltering in Dunmore East during recent stormy weather. That afternoon, with conditions seemingly improving, they made the decision to return home along the coast.

No one knew precisely what happened next. The sea was relatively calmand the winds light. But beneath the surface, a dangerous swell lingered — unpredictable, powerful, and capable of overturning a lightweight coastal craft in seconds.

What is known is this: the boat never made it past the treacherous waters near Ballydwan. Brian Day’s body was discovered washed ashore near the wreckage. Moments later, a vast sea-and-cliff search was underway.

A Multitude of Responders:

The St Patrick arrived at the scene and joined fishing boats, shoreline search teams, cliff rescue units, and local volunteers who had rushed to the area. The weather — though calmer than earlier in the week — still carried the remnants of the recent storms. A deceptive swell broke dangerously against the cliffs, creating sudden surges that made searching near the base extremely hazardous.

Shortly before 21:00 hrs, a fishing vessel located and recovered the body of Mark Dwan. He was brought to Stradbally pier, where a local priest, Fr. Tom Byrnes, remained with the grieving families and offered comfort throughout the night.

A Difficult and Delicate Operation:

As the St Patrick prepared to return to Dunmore East, a message arrived that the Tramore Cliff Rescue Team was having difficulty recovering the first body from the rocks. In such terrain — sheer cliffs, loose footing, and unpredictable surf — even the most experienced shore teams welcome every helping hand.

Coxswain Walsh brought the lifeboat back beneath the cliffs, shining floodlights and firing flares to illuminate the scene and guide the cliff rescue team. Maneuvering a lifeboat so close to jagged cliffs requires nerve and extraordinary precision; one wrong movement and the St Patrick herself could have been dashed against the rock face. But the operation was carried out flawlessly. The Dunmore East crew provided the light; the Tramore team provided the strength. Together they ensured the safe recovery of the young fisherman’s body.

The St Patrick returned to its station late that evening, her crew silent as they came ashore — the kind of silence that only heavy loss can bring.

A Coastline Mourns:

The following morning, local newspapers captured the grief that lay across the small fishing communities of the Copper Coast:

“Two young fishermen in their early twenties were taken from the sea in a double tragedy that has shocked the tightly-knit fishing communities along the Waterford coast.”

The article went on to praise the bravery and dedication of everyone involved — the fishermen who first raised the alarm, the lifeboat crew, the cliff rescue teams, the Gardaí, and the local volunteers who worked tirelessly in fading light.

As for the St Patrick, her role was one of steadfast support under difficult and dangerous conditions. Her searchlights guided rescuers on the cliffs. Her presence beneath the rock face brought reassurance. Her crew once again embodied the courage expected of them.

But it was a service marked not by triumphant rescue, but by profound sadness. Two lives lost. Two families bereaved. And two communities left to mourn the return of young men whose futures had seemed so bright only hours before.

The sea had been deceptively calm that day. But below the surface, it had claimed yet another price.

1990: The Strange Case of the Missing South African Heir

Every lifeboat station accumulates its share of unusual stories — some tinged with humour, others with disbelief, and a few with the curious weight of mystery. Among all the episodes in the St Patrick’s long service, none proved quite as strange, nor as widely discussed, as the disappearance of the man who called himself a South African heir.

It began late on the night of Monday, 5 March 1990, when the Honorary Secretary of the Dunmore East Lifeboat Station received a telephone call at 23:30 hrs. The caller, a man named John Whyte, claimed that a friend — travelling alone in a small motor yacht from Waterford to Dublin — was missing. He was gravely concerned, not least because of the worsening weather conditions.

The vessel had been sighted earlier in the day passing Passage East and Ballyhack, a flimsy craft for such a journey, powered only by a 15hp outboard engine. For a boat of that size to attempt the long and exposed run up the east coast was questionable at best — but by the time the alarm was raised, the situation had already become serious.

The Search Begins

Shortly before midnight, the St Patrick, under Coxswain John Walsh, put to sea to begin a search along the Waterford coastline. For more than three hours, the crew fought rising winds and deteriorating visibility. The conditions close inshore were so poor that Walsh eventually made the difficult decision to suspend the search at 02:30 hrs, knowing that further effort could jeopardise his own crew without increasing the chances of locating the missing boat.

At dawn on Tuesday, 6 March, the lifeboat launched again at 07:15 hrs.
This time, they were joined by the Naval Service vessel LÉ Ciara, an Irish Air Corps aircraft, and a helicopter, sweeping a vast search area stretching from Waterford Harbour toward the Coningbeg Lightship.

By afternoon, a grim sequence of discoveries began. Along the Hook Peninsula shoreline, the Coast Life Saving Service located several items: a fuel funnel, a hatch, and a holdall bag — all positively identified as belonging to the missing yacht.

There was no sign of the man.

The St Patrick remained at sea until 16:45 hrs, her crew returning to the station tired, cold, and with growing certainty that the search was now shifting focus from rescue to recovery.

A Story Takes Hold in the Newspapers:

The Irish press quickly seized on the mystery, it stated:

“Gardaí were declining to name the man on board the boat which left Waterford Harbour about 1.30pm on Monday.”

The Evening Echo, on 6 March, ran the dramatic headline:

“Search for Mystery Man off Waterford Coast.”

Speculation grew. Who was this lone sailor? Why had he attempted such a journey in such conditions? Why was his identity shrouded in secrecy?

The story reached full intensity when, on 9 March, the Munster Express published a sensational headline:

“South African Heir Missing.”

According to the report, the missing man was believed to be Pieter Whyte, an individual claiming to be the sole heir to a £100 million fortune in South Africa. Court documents, however, painted a different picture: he was also known as Joshua Duffy and Pieter van Kuylenberg, and had recently been described in the High Court as a confidence trickster.

The plot thickened.

Allied Irish Banks had secured an injunction weeks earlier preventing him from removing a metal box from their Lisduggan branch — a box alleged to contain gold coins and gems. The man owed substantial sums to financial institutions in Waterford. Locals knew him as a smooth-talking figure who drove luxury cars — a Porsche, a Mercedes, a BMW — and who had recently lost a high-end cabin cruiser to repossession.

Suddenly, the disappearance was more than a maritime incident; it was a human drama.

A Grim Resolution

The mystery came to a tragic conclusion on 12 March 1990, when a body washed ashore at Hook Head. By the end of the week, the Waterford News and Star confirmed the man’s identity:

“Body of Mystery Man Washed Ashore.”

The deceased was Mark Dean Heardon, also known as Pieter Whyte — the man whose many names had filled newspaper columns for days.

The sea had claimed him, and with him, the truth behind much of his story.

A Service Remembered for Its Enigma

For the crew of the St Patrick, the episode was unlike any they had faced.
There were no survivors to bring home.
No families waiting on the pier.
Only questions, suspicions, and the stark reality of a life cut short in unknown circumstances.

Yet the lifeboatmen served as they always did — without judgement, without hesitation, and without regard for the tangled life of the person they searched for. Their duty, as ever, was simple: to respond when called.

The strange tale of the “South African heir” remains one of the most curious chapters in the long life of the St Patrick — a story where the sea, as so often, kept its final secrets.

1994: Fundraising, Heroism, and the Walk Around Ireland

By 1994, the St Patrick had already carved out a distinguished place in the story of Dunmore East. Nearly twenty years of service had taken her through tempests and tragedies, rescues both daring and delicate. Yet this year would be remembered not for dramatic launches or perilous night-time searches, but for something quite different: a remarkable outpouring of community spirit and generosity, much of it inspired by people who had never once set foot on her deck.

It was a year defined by fundraising — spontaneous, heartfelt, and often extraordinary — and by the incredible feat of a man whose passion for the RNLI carried him on a 1,300-mile journey around the coastline of Ireland.

A Year Begins with Hope and Gratitude

In January, local newspapers reflected on the station’s activity for the previous year. Dunmore East RNLI had launched eight times in 1993 — one of the lowest call-out figures in a century. Press Officer Jim Leech attributed this welcome decline to a growing awareness of maritime hazards among pleasure craft users, particularly those connected with Waterford Harbour Sailing Club, who had become strong advocates for sea safety.

Nevertheless, the lifeboatmen remained as diligent as ever, maintaining twice-weekly practices and adapting to new equipment installed on board the St Patrick.

Jim Leech also looked ahead. In four years’ time, he explained, the St Patrick — then nearing the end of her planned twenty-year service — would be replaced by a faster, more advanced lifeboat: a 45ft Trent-class vessel, capable of 25 knots, nearly double the speed of the Waveney-class.

It was a glimpse of the future — but 1994 would be a year deeply rooted in the humanity and goodwill of the present.

A Gift from America: The Cullinane Contribution

The first major gesture came from across the Atlantic.

In late January, the Waterford News and Star announced that John Cullinane of Boston, whose ancestors hailed from Dunmore East, had been so impressed during a visit home by the dedication of the lifeboat crew that he wished to give something back.

His gift was both generous and practical — items the crew had long needed:

• A top-class medical kit

• A powered pump

• A mobile telephone

• And an answering machine

His cousins, Eddie and John Joe Cullinane, formally presented the equipment at the lifeboat station. Jim Leech spoke for many when he said the donation would be “a tremendous benefit not only to the lifeboat itself but to all those who call on their services.”

It was an act of international goodwill — and the year had only just begun.

“Walk-a-Boat”: Billy Cleary’s Extraordinary Journey

If the Cullinane donation was generous, the next story was inspirational.

In the quiet coastal community of Rathmoylan, near Ballymacaw, lived Billy Cleary — a 68-year-old veteran walker with a life shaped by resilience, faith, and a boundless determination. His walking career had begun in 1938, pushing his niece in a pram for 25 miles between Waterford and Dunmore East. Over the decades, walking became his meditation, his health, his identity.

In 1980, Billy narrowly avoided the amputation of both legs following a severe case of gangrene. After months of recovery, he emerged not defeated but renewed, determined to use his regained mobility for good.

By 1994, Billy decided to attempt something almost unimaginable: a walk to every lifeboat station in Ireland, raising money for the RNLI. He called it the “Walk-a-Boat Endeavour.”

The logistics alone would have overwhelmed many, but Billy was supported by an energetic committee: Patrick Kavanagh, Dunmore East RNLI Honorary Secretary and Harbour Master; Billy Loftus, Jim Leech, and Ciarán Mullins.

Billy’s endeavours were widely covered by provincial and local newspapers as his walk progressed through Ireland.  Some weeks after he had arrived safely back to Rathmoylan Cove, a reporter from the Cork Examiner met him and the following report appeared in the June18, 1994 edition of the newspaper:
Veteran walker Billy Cleary has a long and enduring passion for stepping it out. The 68-year-old, who recently notched up over 1,300 miles on his walk to each Lifeboat station in Ireland, to raise money for the RNLI.

He began his love-affair with walking in 1938, when he took his niece in a pram for a marathon 25 miles from his home in Waterford to Dunmore East.

Since then he has been involved in walking. His desire to walk took on a deeper meaning in 1980 when he was in danger of losing both legs.

“In December 1980 I was diagnosed as having gangrene in both legs had vascular repairs carried out on my feet,” he explained.

He survived, with both legs intact.

In 1993, he undertook to walk from Rathmoylan to Malin Head. Just a few days before embarking on the journey he decided to raise money for the Society of St Vincent de Paul. He managed to collect £156.

“After that effort, I said I must be able to do better,” he remarked.

It was a totally different for the ‘Walk-A Boat Endeavour’. A local committee comprising Patrick Kavanagh, secretary of the Dunmore East RNLI, who is also the local Harbour Master; Billy Loftus, Jimmy Leech and Ciarán Mullins did trojan work to make the walk so successful.

“Their support enabled me to do this. It would have been impossible for me to organise on my own,” he declared.

Billy raised in the region of £4,000 on his walk. But the real value of his walk is impossible to quantify, in terms of positive publicity for the Lifeboat Institute.

Billy had no qualms about fundraising for the RNLI. “I go sailing, so I had no difficulty in choosing the lifeboats,” he said.

Billy’s 63-day walk to the Lifeboat Stations around the country was very well organised.” I was up every morning at 6.00am and I went to bed every night with a sense of excitement, wondering what the next day would bring,” he recalled.

The 1,300-mile trek left him with a lot of time on his own and he enjoyed this. “I thought about all sort of things – my wife, my friends, friends who have died, God, wealth possessions.”

One of his favourite pastimes was to sing aloud to himself. This varied from trying to remember songs from his youth to singing Gregorian chants.

There were times, of course, where the journey was hugely challenging, with weather conditions hampering his progress. “I remember walking between Kenmare and Sneem and feeling really wretched. I was drenched to the skin as the downpour continued. I spied an open barn with a bull tethered inside. I clambered up rickety stairs to a loft. I stripped off completely and got into semi-dry clothes and continued on,” he recalled.

Billy walked an average of 20 miles each day- his record was 34 miles and on his worst day he walked just 12 miles.

He was overwhelmed with the hospitality and generosity of so many people he met on his walk.

Billy’s life has always been colourful. Educated in Waterpark College, he joined the RAF in August 1943 and after the war he returned to Waterford.

Billy married Sarah in 1953 and they have nine children.

In 1966 it was time for another career change – this time teaching. At the time his children were growing up and he took an intense interest in education, so much so that he decided to teach. However, “After 12 years, I felt I would go completely crazy if I remained a teacher. I was teaching nine to 13-year-olds. Children are loveable creatures but are very exhausting.

The salary was insufficient, however, to support a family of 11, so he became a mechanic. Afterwards he became self-employed.

Sarah and Billy tried unsuccessfully to return to Ireland in 1980. They had to return to Salisbury and remained there until 1990.

Billy is glad that his trek is over and was delighted to return home. He has no immediate plans for another walk.

A Year Defined by Generosity

Together, the Cullinane donation and Billy Cleary’s extraordinary pilgrimage set the tone for the entire year. They demonstrated the affection and respect felt for the RNLI, not only in Dunmore East but across the whole of Ireland and beyond. They also lifted the spirits of the St. Patrick’s crew at a time when the boat was approaching the end of her long and noble service life.

1994 was not marked by epic storms or dramatic rescues. But it was a year that reminded everyone why the lifeboat exists:

Because people care.
Because communities give.
And because the sea, for all its beauty, remains a force that demands vigilance, compassion, and courage.

1995: The Dunmore East Canoe Tragedy — A Nine-Day Ordeal

1995: Canoe Tragedy at Dunmore East

‘Dunmore Lifeboat Saved Thirteen Lives Last Year’
This was a headline that appeared on the front page of the Munster Express on February 10, 1995. The year in question was 1994, and the article continued as follows:

The Dunmore East lifeboat, St Patrick, responded to 31 calls last year and saved 13 lives, which made the crew one of the busiest in the country. RNLI figures released this week revealed that, overall, boats around our coast put to sea 436 times and saved 96 lives.

Responding to the figures, Dunmore East Lifeboat spokesman, Mr James Leech, said he wished to congratulate everybody concerned with the life-saving service and the Dunmore East boat’s brave and dedicated crew under coxswain Mr John Walsh.

Mr Leech also paid tribute to the wives and families of the crew for their support and patience. “It can be a worrying time for them when the boat is called out, especially when storm-force conditions are raging,” he said.

Little did Jim Leech realise how prophetic his words would be, as just eight days later, on February 18, the dedication and bravery of coxswain John Walsh and his crew would be put to another severe test, and those on shore would have their support and patience tested over a nine-day period.

On the afternoon of Saturday, February 18, 1995, a party of eight canoeists got into difficulty close to the harbour at Dunmore East when a sudden worsening of the weather engulfed and scattered them. John Colfer, a member of the lifeboat crew, was one of the first to notice the canoeists in difficulty. Station Honorary Secretary, Lt. Commander Patrick Kavanagh, was informed and, with the crew assembling quickly, the lifeboat, under the command of coxswain John Walsh, cleared the harbour at 17.15 hrs.

The headline in the Munster Express on the following Friday, February 24, 1995, was as follows:
‘A canoeing outing that turned into a nightmare left several families in Waterford, Tramore and Dunmore East shattered last week-end.’

One girl managed to get ashore unaided and, within five minutes, another girl was found in the water and rescued by the lifeboat. Coxswain Walsh was told that a double canoe, with two people on board, had been seen near Creadan Head and, in deteriorating weather, he set course for that area. At 17.30 hrs, three survivors were observed on the rocks near Laweesh Rock. As these three survivors were not in any immediate danger, the lifeboat proceeded towards Creadan Head and Broomhill.

The Dunmore East Coast and Cliff Rescue Service was alerted by the Irish Marine Emergency Service and subsequently both Tramore and Bonmahon units were also alerted.

At 18.30 hrs, the rescued girl was landed by the lifeboat, which then returned to the three people on the rocks, as there was an increasing risk of them being washed off by the heavy seas. A helicopter, which had been called from Shannon Airport, arrived at 19.03 hrs to the location of the three survivors and requested that the lifeboat stand by. Due to the unfavourable conditions, the helicopter could not effect a rescue, and the three survivors on the rocks were eventually rescued by the Coast and Cliff Rescue units shortly after 20.00 hrs. The helicopter then proceeded to search the shoreline.

It was now established that five survivors were accounted for and three were still missing. The three missing were in one double canoe and one single canoe. The search continued by air, sea, and shore. The Kilmore Quay lifeboat joined the operation at 23.45 hrs. Eventually, at 00.30 hrs, news was received that one survivor had scrambled ashore in Stonewall Bay, just south of Broomhill, and was located by the Fethard-on-Sea Coast and Cliff Rescue unit. This survivor indicated that the other two missing persons had expired some hours earlier. The search by the two lifeboats and the helicopter continued until 03.00 hrs.

At 07.00 hrs on Sunday, February 19, the search recommenced for the bodies of the two canoeists still missing. At 08.00 hrs, an Alouette helicopter from Baldonnell joined the search and, at 08.15 hrs, it succeeded in locating and recovering the body of one of the missing, Ros Davies. The search for the other missing canoeist continued throughout the day, with units from the Coast and Cliff Rescue Service and the Civil Defence covering the coastlines. By nightfall, nothing was found.

The search by the Dunmore East lifeboat for the remaining body continued each day until February 27, along with other Search and Rescue services.

When the search had been wound down after February 27, Lt. Commander Kavanagh compiled a record of the crew members and detailed the times they had spent at sea during the search operation. The summary is as follows:

Crew Member — Time
J. Walsh — 35 hrs 40 mins
W. Abrahamson — 63 hrs 30 mins
S. Kearns — 53 hrs 45 mins
J. Flynn — 57 hrs 50 mins
C. Mullins — 49 hrs 50 mins
T. Power — 29 hrs 10 mins
J. Colfer — 28 hrs 25 mins
F. Glody — 13 hrs 30 mins
B. Dunne — 14 hrs 10 mins
G. Phelan — 6 hrs 40 mins

The Chief of Operations at the RNLI sent a ‘Letter of Appreciation’ to the Dunmore East Lifeboat Station thanking coxswain John Walsh and the other crew members involved in this long and demanding service “for their tireless efforts and devotion to duty.”¹

On March 17, a month after the tragedy, the body of twenty-one-year-old Keith Crowley of Tramore was discovered on a beach at Tywyn, Cardigan Bay, in Wales.²

The inquest of fourteen-year-old Ros Davies of Mount Pleasant, Waterford, took place in Waterford on October 17. Mr Michael Davies made a passionate plea that the deaths of his own beloved daughter and that of Keith Crowley would not be in vain, and that other families would be spared the anguish that they had suffered. He then submitted a list of water safety recommendations and asked the jury, as a rider to its verdict, to ask the Minister for the Marine to act upon them.

At the inquest, the State Solicitor, Mr A.V. Maher, read a statement on behalf of the Minister for the Marine. In it, the Minister said that following the Dunmore East accident, the then Minister, Hugh Coveney, ordered a review of the circumstances of the tragedy. The purpose was to establish what lessons could be learned with a view to minimising the possibility of a recurrence. Recommendations arising from that review contained most of those made by the Davies family, and the Minister said his Department had taken steps towards implementing them.

1996: Dunmore East Numbed by the Tragic Loss of the Jenalisa

Once again, the people of Dunmore East awoke to the grim reality that the sea, which had shaped their lives for generations, could also betray them with a cruelty beyond measure. As one newspaper starkly put it, “the cruel seas surrounding the Waterford coast have stolen the lives of young men.” It was a line that captured, in a few spare words, the shock and sorrow that descended on the village in early February 1996.

In the calm of the early hours of Sunday, February 4, the 40-foot trawler Jenalisa slipped quietly out of Dunmore East. Her skipper and owner, Peter Nolan, was joined by his two crewmen, Niall Power and Conor O’Grady—three young men who knew the sea intimately, who had worked its tides and seasons since youth. While many other boats had turned their attention to the herring, the Jenalisa set her course for the cod grounds off Brownstown Head. Conditions, by all accounts, were moderate. A swell would build later, and winds freshened, but nothing that would have raised concern among men so seasoned by the weathered moods of the sea.

Their final radio contact came at around 4 p.m. What transpired in the short two hours that followed has remained one of the most troubling mysteries to ever grip Dunmore East. How a vessel as familiar as the Jenalisa could vanish without trace, without even a distress call, continues to weigh heavily on the minds of the fishing community.

Word of tragedy arrived with devastating abruptness. Another trawler, the Atlantic Warrior, had recovered a body from the water—22-year-old Conor O’Grady of Annestown. Fishing boxes and debris drifting near Brownstown Head told their own silent, terrible story. The St Patrick lifeboat put to sea at 6.15 p.m. and searched through the night, returning in the early hours with nothing further to report.

At dawn on Monday, the search resumed in worsening weather. The Kilmore Quay lifeboat joined the effort, and larger fishing vessels pushed through treacherous seas to assist. As the days passed, the scale of the operation grew. Naval Service patrol ship LÉ Aisling, the Air Corps patrol plane, and the Coast and Cliff Rescue units from Dunmore East, Fethard, Tramore, and Kilmore Quay swept the coastline. A magnetometer was to be deployed as soon as conditions allowed, in the hope of detecting the vessel on the seabed.

For the families of Peter Nolan and Niall Power—still missing—time moved painfully slowly. Each tide brought renewed hope and renewed despair.

It was not until March 6 that the Jenalisa was finally located and lifted from the seabed. The long delay only compounded the grief of those left behind. In Dunmore East, a sense of frustration and disbelief took hold. Many questioned why the operation had been handled with such secrecy, and why urgency and compassion seemed to have been lost in official procedures. The Munster Express captured the mood with stark clarity:

“Most people believe the heavily laden boat went down in bad weather, but if something very unusual or sinister did happen out there that day then the authorities should spell out their suspicions… It is about time they realised they are dealing with real people and real heartbreak.”

But even with the vessel recovered, the sea kept its final, most precious secrets. The bodies of Peter Nolan and Niall Power were never found. Their families, like so many others along the Waterford and Wexford coasts, were left with memories, unanswered questions, and a profound sense of loss.

Yet from that grief came a determination to remember. A committee was formed to honour the men whose lives had been claimed by the sea—a memorial not just to the crew of the Jenalisa, but to all who never returned to the harbours and coves they once called home. It would stand as a quiet place of reflection, a tribute to courage, and a reminder that behind every name is a story of work, of family, and of love for the sea.

1996:   Dunmore East Bids a Fond Farewell to the St Patrick

On Friday, August 9, 1996, the St Patrick left Dunmore East for the very last time. It was a day of mixed emotions and nostalgia.  On the following Friday, August 16, the Waterford News and Star devoted a full page to the farewell voyage with a selection of photographs and a poignantly written account of the day’s event by Richard Dowling. The report aptly captured the occasion.  This is what he wrote:

It wasn’t  very often that Dunmore East’s lifeboat, the St Patrick, was launched in good weather….so it was fitting that her final send-off should take place not with summer weather but with a heavy sea running, driving rain and storms forecast.

Hundreds of people turned out last Friday in Dunmore  to witness the final voyage of the RNLB St Patrick after 21 years of dedicated service to those who work and play on the sea.

Many of those present had seen the lifeboat and her crews in operation before. They had witnessed the brave men and women of the Royal National Lifeboat Institute put to sea on board the St Patrick when everyone else was running  for shelter- putting their skills to the test and their lives at risk for others.

The event was not just a farewell to the lifeboat, but a celebration to honour the crews who had served on her, many of whom were present on the day.

Some of their skills were displayed last Friday with an air-sea rescue exercise involving the St Patrick, the relief lifeboat Barham, the Fethard-on-Sea inshore lifeboat, the naval vessel, the LÉ Ciara, and a Dauphin Air Corps helicoptor from Baldonnel.

AIRLIFTED

The first exercise involved six local firemen being airlifted onto the Ciara which was simulating a fire onboard. The Dunmore East Adventure Centre was also involved and simulated an emergency situation with an ‘injured’ canoeist.

While the LÉ Ciara played a major role, the star of the exercise was the forty four foot long, Waveney class St Patrick.

She had left Dunmore for her annual refit sometime ago in Northern Ireland and a replacement lifeboat sent to the port. While she was away, the RNLI decided that with the new lifeboat soon to arrive, it was not worthwhile to send the St Patrick back to Dunmore.

However, the crew were less than impressed and threathened to travel to the north and hi-jack the lifeboat and bring her home for one last time. Luckily the RNLI gracefully relented and the lifeboat arrived back in Dunmore last week.

There she was greeted like an ‘old friend’ by all. Twenty-one years previously she had sailed in under coxswain /mechanic Stephen Whittle with Maurice Glody, Thomas McGrath, John Tod and Commander Roe from the RNLI aboard.

In the following twenty one years, she was launched 252 times and saved 83 people from almost certain death. Former Coxswain Stephen Whittle is Ireland’s most decorated RNLI man while the Dunmore East station made headlines when the first ever lifeboat woman, Frances Glody, joined up.

The St Patrick’s final farewell took place just outside the mouth of the harbour with former coxswain Stephen Whittle, recently retired coxswain John Walsh and current coxswain Walter AbrahamssÖn on board, as well as current and former crew members, such as Brendan Glody, Dermot Murphy, Neil Whittle, Patrick Glody, Maurice Glody, Joefy Murphy, Sean Kearns and Jimmy Leech.

SALUTE

The local yacht club fired a 21 gun salute as the St Patrick was handed over to a crew from Arklow, under coxswain Ned Dillon, who were to take the lifeboat to Poole in Dorset, England. There she will enter the reserve fleet and eventually will be sold to lifesaving authorities, possibly in Australia or New Zealand.

After the hand over, the crew then returned to Dunmore onboard the replacement lifeboat, which will be stationed in Dunmore until Wednesday, September 11th when the new lifeboat is due to arrive at midday.

Costing over £1.1m, the new Trent class lifeboat will be over twice as fast the St Patrick and have a larger range. Named the Elizabeth & Ronald, the vessel was funded by a legacy left by a couple in England who originally came from Ireland. It was felt appropriate that ‘their’ lifeboat should be located in thie native land.

REASSURED

Last Friday’s events held mixed emotions for all concerned – sadness to see the St Patrick go but reassured  in the knowledge that the new lifeboat was on the way.

The final farewell was a sad occasion for the entire village, the Harbour Master Commander Paddy Kavanagh acknowledged. “Possibly there will be a tear or two shed by the hardened crews as they think back over the years,” he said.

However, everyone was looking forward to the arrival of the Elizabeth & Ronald. A new generation of lifeboat, it will have to earn the respect of its crews and those it is there to protect- just like the St Patrick did back in 1975.

Former Coxswain John Walsh described the event as a sad day. There had been many tough times on board but many happy times as well, he said.

However, the new lifeboat is faster and has a longer range so it will have a quicker response time and be able to travel further out to sea, he added.

Former Coxswain Stephen Whittle agreed that it was an occasion of mixed emotions. He had lived and worked with the St Patrick from when it arrived to his retirement.

They were all sad to see it go but were keen to see and get the feel of the new lifeboat which will be arriving in a few weeks, he added.

WONDERFUL

“I think the St Patrick got a wonderful send off today,” Mr Whittle added.

Glowing tributes were paid to those involved in the exercises held to mark the retirement of the lifeboat, the crew of the LÉ Ciara, the Aer Corps and crew of the Fethard-on-Sea lifeboat.

Commanding officer of the LÉ Ciara, Lt Comdr.Gerard O’Flynn, said they were delighted to be involved in the occasion.

Events and exercises like this help raise the profile of the naval service in the community as well as helping the communities to celebrate such important occasions, he said.

A vital element is also to build closer links between the rescue services and allowing those involved to develop their skills, Lt Comdr. O’Flynn added.

The LÉ Ciara certainly added an extra dimension to the afternoon’s events and the farewell party for the St Patrick, which had been a loyal workhorse for all at sea.

Later on Friday, a raenight was held with Shell as the main sponsors, to raise funds for a new lifeboat station in Dunmore. On Saturday, the final occasion of the week-end was a special dinner to honour recently retired coxswain John Walsh for his years of dedicated service to the lifeboat and his fellow mariners.

"Thank you to David Carroll for allowing this adaptation of his work".