Pat Hanly was the archetypal "messing around in boats" man and he was also a man who liked to share his enthusiasms. So friend Barry Lett - decidedly lukewarm towards boats - was compelled to join him on watery expeditions which too often turned into Keystone Cops near-disasters.
On one occasion,
the pair went out in a little boat and were in the harbour, just off St Heliers, when the rudder fell off and sank. With no way of steering, the boat drifted towards the rocks and Hanly started to panic.
"He was waving to people in boats going past us - and they waved right back," says Lett. "Luckily we missed the rocks and headed in towards the beach. When it got shallow enough I said, 'Right, let's swim in and pull the boat.' It was then he told me, 'I can't swim'."
"So I had to leap over and do an African Queen-Humphrey Bogart thing with a rope and pull it to shore."
Another time, Lett and Hanly headed out into Auckland Harbour and found themselves becalmed in the shipping channel. "Suddenly Pat said 'Oh God', and pointed back towards town. There was a huge container ship heading our way, bearing down on us. I asked, 'How long will that take to get here?' and Pat said, 'Oh Christ, only about a quarter of an hour, we've got to get out of here'.
"But there was no wind and it got closer and closer, then came these two blasts on the ship's horn. 'Christ!' said Pat. 'What does that mean - port or starboard? Port or starboard? Where's my book?'
"We grabbed the paddles and started paddling away and this eight-storey high thing swerved right past us. As it went by, we could see all the Filipino sailors peering over the side shouting and swearing at us. And the wake just about tipped us over.
"Pat tried to turn me into a sailor," recalls Lett, "I was never enthusiastic but he quite put me off."
