Frank Charles Dye (23 April 1928[1][2] – 16 May 2010) was a sailor who, in two separate voyages, sailed a Wayfarer class dinghy from the United Kingdom to Iceland and Norway.[1][3] An account of this was written by Dye and his wife, Margaret, published as Ocean Crossing Wayfarer: To Iceland and Norway in a 16ft Open Dinghy.[4]
Frank Dye
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| Born | Frank Charles Dye 23 April 1928
Watton, Norfolk, England
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| Died | 16 May 2010(2010-05-16) (aged 82)[1] |
| Nationality | British |
| Occupation(s) | Sailor and author |
| Known for | Sailing to Iceland and Norway in an uncovered dinghy |
Dye was born in Watton, Norfolk, on 23 April 1928 and was educated at Hamond's Grammar School, Swaffham. After school he joined his father's Ford car dealership and began sailing in his early thirties. In 1958 he bought the first of several Wayfarer dinghies.[1][5]
He met his wife, Margaret, at the 1963 Earl's Court Boat Show and married her in 1964. For their honeymoon they sailed to the Hebridean islandofSt Kilda.
In 1963, Dye, along with Russell Brockbank, sailed their Wayfarer dinghy Wanderer from Kinlochbervie in Scotland to Iceland (landing on the island of Heimaey). The 650-mile journey took them 11 days. Aboard they carried only a compass and sextant for navigation. During the journey they encountered force 8 gales, freezing temperatures, seasickness and broken rigging.[6]
In July 1964, Dye, along with crew member, Bill Brockbank (no relation to Russell), sailed the 650 nautical miles between Scotland and the Faroe Islands and across the Norwegian Sea to Norway. During the voyage they ran into a force 9 gale and were capsized four times. Their mast had been shattered but they managed to jury-rig another.[7]
Frank and Margaret's Wayfarer dinghy, Wanderer, is in the collection of the National Maritime Museum CornwallatFalmouth, Cornwall.[3]
Offshore cruising in an open boat can be hard, cold, wet, lonely and occasionally miserable, but it is exhilarating too. To take an open dinghy across a hundred miles of sea, taking weather as it comes; to know that you have only yourself and your mate to rely on in an emergency; to see the beauty of dawn creep across the ever restless and dangerous ocean; to make a safe landfall – is wonderful and all of these things develop a self-reliance that is missing from the modern, mechanical, safety-conscious civilised world.[8]
People talk about respect for the sea, but respect is based on fear. While fascination outweighs the fear I sail on. When the balance changes, it's time to stop.