10/02/2025
Norwich, GB 5 C
Researching and reporting on the lives of some really interesting people (RIP)

PADDY MACKLIN, aged 65

ALL AROUND THE WORLD

“An extraordinary character from an extraordinary and very glamourous family.”

Paddy’s father was Lance Macklin, a playboy and motor racing driver of the 1950s, and his mother was model Shelagh Mulligan.

His grandfather was Noel Macklin, who designed the Invicta Sportscar in 1925, and went on to be knighted for designing motor gunboats in the Second World War.

His Aunt Nada married a French Duke, and his cousin, Christina, was a countess.

Paddy was christened Patrick, named after the famous explorer, Patrick Leigh Fermor. He had one sister called Miranda. She went on to marry into the Duke of Norfolk’s family.

Patrick Leigh Fermor (courtesy The Economist)

Paddy’s father, Lance, drove in the 1955 Le Mans race. It didn’t end well. Pierre Levegh, driving a Mercedes, clipped the back of Lance’s Austin Healey and crashed into the crowd, killing 80 spectators – and also Levegh himself.

Shelagh was initially married to a man called Cooper. Lance was her second husband.

She drove in the Tulip Rally, partnering Pat Moss, the sister of Stirling Moss.

Paddy was taken sailing by his father, on a motor launch – and a passion for life was formed.

He was sent to public school but behaved like a tearaway and was expelled from different establishments.

When Paddy was just 12, his parents divorced. His father married Gail McComish, from New Zealand, who was much younger than he was.

They went to live in her homeland, taking Paddy with them (against his mother’s wishes). He caused mayhem at his new school in Havelock North. “I was a bit of an outsider.”

One year later, his mother arrived in New Zealand and took Paddy home with her. He had picked up a New Zealand accent which he never lost.

By now, she had also got married again – to Sir Anthony Montague-Browne, the former private secretary to Winston Churchill.

Montague-Browne hit the headlines in 2016, when it emerged that he was the biological father of Justin Welby, the Archbishop of Canterbury.

Justin Welby (courtesy Tatler)

For years, Paddy had suspected that his stepfather was Welby’s parent. He decided to ask Anthony for the truth. By this time, the latter was in a care home. Paddy made an appointment to discuss the issue, but Montague-Browne died before the meeting ever happened.

Following Paddy’s return from New Zealand, he was sent to Lancing College. He lasted just two terms there. After yet another misdemeanour he was summoned to the headmaster’s office.

Lancing College (courtesy Lancing College)

He failed to keep the appointment. Instead, at the allotted time, a big piece of rock came crashing through the window. Paddy was seen running from the college, never to return.

He went to live in a squat in Clapham and began work as a plasterer and decorator. It was during this time that Paddy developed a heroin addiction. “Trainspotting was my life!”

Then, Paddy worked on Peter de Savaray’s farm in Berkshire. He used to drive around the countryside like a madman and there were so many complaints about his behaviour, that he was sacked.

Paddy’s Great Uncle Billy died and left him a flat in London. He sold it, bought a boat, and moved to Oban with his girlfriend. She hated living by the sea.

Paddy read an article on circumnavigating the world. He decided this was his ultimate challenge, so he left his girlfriend and moved to Falmouth in Cornwall.

He spent the next five years teaching himself to sail, going all around Europe. He even crossed the Atlantic, single-handedly sailing a ‘Folkboat’ (a Swedish boat).

Folkboat (courtesy YachtWorld)

Next, he decided it was time to carry out his dream, “recapturing the true spirit of amateurism in sailing.”

Paddy’s aim was to beat the record time of going around the world 313 days, set by Robin Knox-Johnston in 1969, at 313 days.

Paddy’s boat was a 27-foot long wooden sloop called Tessa. It was 50-years old and designed for the waters of Northern Scotland.

Paddy refused to have any sponsorship and declined any media attention. His sister, Miranda, stocked the boat up with provisions.

For navigation, he took an old school atlas, and had a small GPS system so that he wouldn’t need to use a sextant. He also took a radio, a small camera, a torch and a second-hand mobile phone – and a supply of whisky.

Paddy set sail from Falmouth on the 17th of December 2009. He took his father with him; “I had a little jar with some of his ashes, which I put overboard after Cape Horn.”

Paddy hadn’t bothered to check the weather forecast so he immediately sailed into winter gales. His family tried to contact him, but to no avail. They reported him as ‘missing’.

A large-scale search for him was carried out in the Bay of Biscay, by French and Spanish coastguards, including the use of aeroplanes and helicopters.

Paddy only realised he was believed to have died, when he heard (on the radio), his name mentioned on the news on New Year’s Day. He contacted his family immediately. He had not had his phone turned on because he was trying to stop it getting wet. Miranda said, “I have given him an almighty telling off and told him never to do this to us again”.

The coastguard also told him he should be carrying a distress flare. When he realised this would cost around £250, he declared it far too expensive.

Paddy later said, “I wasn’t at any point in any trouble. That’s a fair bit of misunderstanding.” He had registered his position with the Falmouth coastguard and had assumed that was enough (not realising he was supposed to do the same with the French and Spanish equivalents).

To keep himself fit, Paddy did 100 squats a day and walked 32 circuits of the boat (about half a kilometre), to keep himself fit. He read the complete works of Charles Dickens and Robert Louis Stevenson, but gave up on ‘War and Peace’ after just three sentences.

As he approached the Canary Islands, Paddy was nearly hit by a large freighter. He was asleep at the time but was wakened by the ship’s lights. It missed him by just 50 feet.

He had a similar experience in the South Atlantic. Paddy was naked as he had just washed his clothes, which were draped around the deck, drying out. He saw a massive ship heading towards him. He tried radio and phone contact with the ship, without success. He was only saved by performing an emergency manoeuvre.

Going through Drake’s Passage, Paddy ran out of his supply of recreational drugs. “I’m not like a Rastafarian, sitting, puffing, blowing every day – a little taste every night – maybe.” Friends felt he was being economic with the truth.

His whisky rations had run out long before.

In the Southern Ocean (Tasman Sea), Paddy encountered a storm where the waves were over 60 feet high. “The blackness closed down on this scene from hell. I wedged myself across the cabin, wrapped in my bedding. Sleep was out of the question in spite of exhaustion. I just lay there and waited.”

He called the storm a ‘black maelstrom’.

“There was an almighty roar like an express train, then an explosive crash as the break hit the side of the boat.”

The mast of the boat split. Everything breakable in the cabin broke. All his food supplies were lost – and Tessa keeled over, before luckily righting herself. Paddy told himself he needed ‘Shackletonian discipline’ to survive. The storm lasted 6o hours.

He said he was, “Thrown around like a rock in a washing machine.” He clung on desperately to his fresh water supply, realising without that, he could not survive.

Finally, it abated. “So, I made a cup of tea and smoked a cigarette and wondered what to do.” It was at this moment that he realised he would never break Knox-Johnston’s record.

Paddy limped into Timaru on New Zealand’s South Island (just 450 miles away), where he had family and friends. It took him four months to recover and to rebuild the boat.

Paddy finally returned to Falmouth on the 12th of May 2011.

He wrote a book about his adventure, entitled ‘Captain Bungle’s Odyssey’ (2014). It got a fantastic review in The Spectator, although that was written by Taki Theodoracopolous, the husband of his cousin Christina.

Paddy always intended to sail the Northwest Passage, but never did. Instead, he went back to plastering, drinking and taking drugs. He was known locally as ‘Hippy Paddy’.

In later years, he lived on his boat.

Paddy died suddenly, whilst sailing on the Penryn River. An autopsy said he had died of cirrhosis of the liver.

His close friend, Hugh Barlow, said, “Given his background and connections, Paddy could have chosen to be a dreadful bore and snob, but he was the absolute opposite. He loved music, sailing, drinking and good company.”

RIP – Record Isn’t Possible

 

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