I WAS surprised to learn recently that there are now actually more boats on the English waterways than there were during the heyday of the canal system, when barge transport accounted for the bulk of commercial traffic around the country.

These days, of course, most vessels are pleasurecraft. Boating is a huge industry, and over the past 20 years something like 200 miles of UK canals and rivers have been dredged, cleaned up and extended to accommodate them. But there are still a good number of working craft, particularly on the once mighty Thames.

None more quirkily eye-catching than the unique London Duck Tours, which operates a fleet of converted Second World War DUKWs to ferry passengers along a tourist trail taking in the capital’s famous landmarks before a ‘splash trip’ along the river.

‘They’re not unique,’ I hear you say. ‘What about us? They’re just copying an idea which has proved a tourist magnet for 60 years on the beach at West Park.’

A couple of weeks ago, while visiting old haunts and acquaintances in London, I just happened to have indulged in a blustery trip on one of the aforementioned amphibious veterans. Back on dry land, and courtesy of the wonders of modern communication which allows any exile or local voyager to read the JEP via thisisjersey.com, or view Channel Report on a laptop, I discovered that by coincidence our own aquatic Betty had got herself into another distinctly ‘un-Charming’ mess out in St Aubin’s Bay. By all accounts, sister Nancy was near at hand, and, as the result of some skilful seamanship by an experienced driver, was able to haul her fleetmate ashore. So, much embarrassment, but thankfully, no injury.

As a result, though, we’ve had to go through another bank holiday weekend with only one Duck in service – still bearing signs of repairs after stranding itself astride the wall of the old swimming pool several weeks previously.
Nevertheless, it put in sterling service struggling to meet tourist demand for rides to the castle – although with no back-up if it too had fallen victim to the mystery ailment which confined its mate to its nest.

Whatever happened to the golden rule of one afloat, one on standby which underpinned all previous operations? The beach is a fickle place; even the old Puddleducks did occasionally get stuck, but help was always a chain and a quick fraternal tug away.

Back to my London visit. At the time, two weeks into their summer holidays, the children of two of my former colleagues were still awaiting the final outcome of their SAT tests. Needless to say, their anxiety – and to be honest, that of their parents over the possible impact for their progeny on the next step of the education ladder – was palpable.

Now, you could say that the process of testing children at the age of 11 and 14 is more an impediment to their development than an enhancement of it, but currently it is government policy, and, by implication, responsibility.

So the sorry shambles over the marking, processing and returning meaningful test results by Education Testing Service (ETS) of Princeton, New Jersey, was particularly indictable given its failure on promises made to what turns out to have been a gullible government department.

What it came down to was the peril of engaging an operation which exuded confidence over experience, offered a potentially cheaper service to anything available locally, employed ‘new’ methods, equipment and processes; failing to take on board any previous ‘difficulties’; and signing up to a long-term contact, so water-resistant that even if the supplier was found to be in breach, termination would result in healthy compensation being paid by the aggrieved party.

To counter public criticism, and give the perpetrators time to contrive a blame-averting narrative, the minister called for an inquiry. As we know, the contract with ETS has now been cancelled, although the repercussions are anything but resolved. Ring any bells?

Comparisons are easy to make with hindsight. Our £500,000 might look small against their £154m, and operationally it’s worth pointing out that given the foul weather conditions the weekend before the bank holiday, it is extremely unlikely that the Puddleducks would have ventured out to sea with a fully laden cargo of revellers. But with their record for shifting a large number of passengers for big events at the castle, you can’t help feeling that their combined lifting force would have easily mopped up the expectant waves of diminutive pirates with the alacrity of a supercharged ‘Hispaniola’ on wheels!

Customer disappointment is one thing. Loss of revenue, particularly allied with high running costs – much now being spent in the repair shop – must be of great concern for a now publicly funded operation. Words like ‘accountability’ and ‘ducks coming home to roost’ have particular relevance in an election year.

So while it may appear that those charged with acting as guardians of our heritage and trust burrow ever deeper into the West Park sand, the political voice from the beach comes from the lips of a St Brelade Deputy with a powerful interest in maritime causes.

He’d have Heritage sell the current craft while they’re still relatively new, and recoup some of the ransom handed over for their purchase into the beleaguered cultural coffers; refurbish the mothballed Puddleducks and restore some degree of real charm and reliability to the Heritage route out to the castle.

Well, as they say: ‘You pays your money, you takes your choice.’ Given our new national preoccupation for messing about on the water, you can’t help but feel that the visitors to the castle have been messed about for two seasons too long.