Criminals? We're the Shipwreck Heroes

Daily Express - 24th January, 2007 - Story and pictures: Nick Constable

It's the modern-day bounty-hunter's paradise. With a beach full of shipwrecked niche-brands, all you need is teamwork, a transit van and an ebay account.

As hundreds of salvagers returned for another day among the flotsam and jetsam on Branscombe beach yesterday there was something about their enterprise and sheer determination which was reassuringly, and traditionally, British.

They'd arrived on Devon's East coast as total strangers, driving through the night from as far afield as Manchester, Bradford, Birmingham and Leicester.

Even so, the sense of comradeship on the strandline was palpable - shared advice, tips on tide times, pointers on where to dig and, of course, breathlessly-delivered intelligence on the stricken cargo vessel MSC Napoli's latest batch of incoming cargo containers.

Looking for make-up? Head for L'Oreal corner near Sherborne Rocks. BMW car parts? Anywhere between the fifth and sixth containers along. Dog food and nappies? Just about everywhere you look.

Neither was there any sense of locals versus incomers. One team hunting for cosmetics products, working a line on the sand, had Yorkshire and East Midlands accents mingling with familiar Devon burrs.

The wreckage spewed along Branscombe's beautiful stretch of the Jurassic Coast may have been hi-tech, over-packaged and, occasionally chemically noxious.

But the truth is that on this notorious ship's graveyard of a coastline the scene being played out was not so very different from that of an English wreck site a hundred - maybe a thousand - years ago.

Wine barrels were rolled up cliff paths, sacks were passed chain-gang style up the steeply-shelving shingle and one group of enterprising teenagers offered refreshments at only-slightly inflated prices.

Amid the siren voices demanding closure of the beach and cliff-paths, prosecution of the 'thieves' and rigorous questioning of anyone carrying a salt-damaged car part, Devon and Cornwall Police sensibly pointed out that, actually, the treasure hunters had done nothing illegal.

Rather, they were simply exercising one of the oldest and most cherished rights in English law - the right of salvage.

'Provided people retain their finds and report them to the Receiver of Wreck they're within the law,' said Sergeant Alan Mobbs, of Devon and Cornwall Police.

'In fact it could be argued that they are assisting both the environmental clean-up and the cargo owners. Leaving a BMW motorbike in the sea is not going to help anyone.

'We would remind people though that selling this stuff on ebay may well be a criminal offence.'

However as night fell last night it seemed the chances of getting any new items off the beach and onto ebay's website were vanishing fast.

Security contractors brought in by the Napoli's insurers announced that they had struck a deal with the National Trust to claim rights on all the wreckage.

As if to emphasise the point they erected a 6ft high metal fence across the beach entrance - forcing several salvagers to gaze up uneasily at the 150ft cliffs and a tricky climb out with their spoils.

'I dare say,' one murmured, 'that the tractor chassis is going nowhere now.'

Many salvagers were full of praise for the uniformed authorities. Bob McDonald, 28, of McFloyd's Scrap-Metal Dealers in Mansfield, said: 'The police and Coastguard have been very helpful.

'They've pointed out where to go and advised us on the legal position. It's been great.'

He and his partner drove 300 miles on Monday evening, beginning their torchlight search of the beach at 3am yesterday. They recovered four BMW gearboxes worth around £200 'once they jet-wash up'.

The job had been, he said, among his more challenging assignments. 'We've spent four hours lugging these up the hill he said.

'The insurers have our name and they can come and pick this stuff up from our yard anytime they like. But if they do they'll have to pay a £200 storage charge.

'The atmosphere on the beach has been good and most salvagers have been well behaved. But there have been reports of travellers descending and you wonder whether they are going to declare everything.

'This has caused a massive impact and I feel for the residents.'

'We've offered to come down and clear the entire beach of metal parts. We'd make no charge if we could just have the scrap value. But no-one seems interested.

'I would question the planning that's gone into handling all this.'

Another salvager, unemployed Victor Black, 43, of Bradford has spent the last 48 hours working the beach with two friends. Between shifts each snatches a few house sleep in their white transit van, parked incongrously beside the village Post Office.

To date Mr Black's team has recovered eight BMW gearboxes worth anything up to £700 plus a 'shedload' of inner car wings.

'It's a long way to come but well worth it,' he said. 'We're going to hang around to see what the next few high tides bring in.'

Over in L'Oreal Corner the proportion of female beachcombers was distinctly higher. Postwoman Linda Goddard, 50, from Honiton, East Devon, brandished a plastic bag loaded with eyeliner and face cream.

'It's good quality stuff and digging around on a beach is something different,' she said. 'It's an interesting way to spend my week's holiday.

'There are people here from all over the country and everyone has got on really well.

'The sad thing is that it will take months to clear the place up. The beach looks like a plane crash, a scene from Lost or something.'

It's a fair description. As far as the eye can see half-open containers are rammed into the sand, some spewing smoke from fires lit to keep the seekers warm.

Inbetween are piles of twisted sheet metal, rising spookily like some dodgy art exhibit at the Turner prize. Windscreens and wing mirrors decorate the frontage of Branscombe's sporadically-sited wooden beach chalets. Two hubcaps lean against a wine barrel, a sleeping youth lying on guard nearby.

Every so often a sweating salvager sink to his knees, exhausted from the effort of carrying 20-kilo metal car parts. Sledges made from pallets are hardly any better. Even those pulling trolleys - and there are several teams - struggle to negotiate the unforgiving pebbles.

Everywhere you walk tell-tale signals show just how much the world economy still depends on maritime trade. Empty packets of Bambi nappies, with Arabic subtitles, litter vast areas; a dolphin motif ludicrously emphasising the product's green credentials.

There are empty cartons of Casino French orange juice scattered among what look like piles of peculiarly violent yellow-coloured pebbles. Except they aren't pebbles but nuggets of dog food - Hill's Science Plan Veterinary Formulated Large Breed Puppy Food, to be precise.

Then there is the sad, smattering of personal items - a velvet-clad photo frame minus its photo, a few pages from a Bible, a dictionary, a fragment of highly polished-furniture.

This is the Napoli's emotional baggage , at once valueless and priceless, tossed carelessly ashore by the waves and ignored by the salvagers.

Near Beer Head cliffs a parka-clad youth stands guard over two quad bikes, deftly tucked into a rock crevice to avoid awkward questions from the increasing band of security men crunching the shingle.

'Best way on and off the beach now,' he said. 'Long as they don't spot us.

'People reckon there are more containers coming in so we're staying put for low tide.'

It could well be the last so far as the bounty hunters are concerned.

Officials from the Maritime and Coastguard Agency are by all accounts furious at the way the free-for-all has unfolded. Many officers are privately critical of the police for not acting faster in restricting beach access.

The MCA has also attacked the salvage crowd, with press officer Fred Cagill particularly scathing of their actions.

'These people have increased the pollution footprint of this incident by 800%,' he said. 'They have just discarded rubbish and debris everywhere.

'It makes me ashamed to be British. This is stealing.

'If the containers had been left alone the contents could obviously have been contained. Now the situation is so much worse.

'We have seen whole families down here, mothers carrying babies, kids running around near a dumping surf. if anything had happened the emergency services could never have got through.

It is this kind of official reprimand which has angered some residents.

'What do they expect,' said one mother whose two children had been given the day off from Branscombe Primary School in the light of expected traffic chaos.

'This is a pretty big day for this village. people will talk about it for generations to come. What's wrong with showing your children a little piece of history?'

How long before some salvager claims TV and film rights for the Great Branscombe Beach Hunt?