Chris Westwood, who has died aged 82, was a man of formidable resilience, defying medical odds on multiple occasions with a determination that both defined his character and surprised his clinicians. In his final years, he made the deliberate choice to forgo treatment that might have prolonged his life, a decision taken to safeguard the independence he valued above all else.
A Life Shaped by the Water
His world was, fundamentally, one of wind and water. Westwood’s sailing passion was ignited in a homemade Mirror dinghy, the iconic craft designed by Jack Holt which, through its affordable stitch-and-glue construction, brought sailing to a post-war generation. He mastered the art of “reclaiming” dinghies and cut his teeth racing on the River Medway in Kent. This devotion evolved into a decade of teaching from 1975, sharing his skills with Inner London Education Authority evening classes at the Deptford Sailing Centre in south London.
His commitment to the sailing community was deep and multifaceted. He served as dinghy captain and secretary at the Greenwich Yacht Club, an institution founded by Thames watermen in 1908, where he met his future wife in 1988. He later became a committee member at the historic Erith Yacht Club, established in 1900. Beyond administration, he was actively involved in supporting disabled sailors on the tideway and relished cruising adventures along the east coast of England and across to Calais and Dartmouth.
Yet, perhaps his most significant legacy on the water was his role as a steadfast advocate for women in a sport historically rife with barriers. Described as a “tower of strength,” he actively encouraged female friends to build careers and pursue sailing ambitions despite what his obituary termed “widespread misogyny.” This support was critically important in a sector where, as recent reports indicate, 85% of women in the marine industry report experiencing sexism, with issues ranging from a persistent pay gap to a culture of subtle and overt exclusion. As Tracy Edwards, captain of the first all-women crew to circumnavigate the globe, observed in 2019, the confrontational reactions faced by women in sailing have been slow to change.
A Civil Service Career Steering London’s Roads
Parallel to his life on the water was a long career navigating the complexities of Whitehall. Born in Pembury, Kent, to journalist Maude Peppiatt and Guy’s Hospital lab technician Lindsey Westwood, he attended Chislehurst and Sidcup grammar school. A stint studying economics and English at Sheffield University from 1962 ended when he was “asked to leave,” his time consumed by his work as a student union journalist reviewing plays and gigs.
He joined the Ministry of Transport’s library in 1966, later moving to the Department of Environment before returning to transport. His work encompassed special load routes, HGV licensing, operators’ tribunals, and liaison with Irish and European counterparts. His sharp intellect eventually led him to the Highways Agency, now National Highways, where he managed major road schemes for the capital.
Among these was the doomed East London River Crossing, a hugely ambitious eight-lane motorway bridge over the Thames first proposed in the 1970s. The project faced fierce local opposition and was scrapped by the Government in 1983, though the concept was later revisited. Westwood also oversaw improvements to the A12 and A13. He welcomed early retirement at 52 in 1995, during the civil service reductions planned under Margaret Thatcher, which afforded him more time to dedicate to his first love: sailing.
In retirement, his other passions flourished. He was an avid reader, gardener, and jazz enthusiast. But it was his obsessive collecting that mirrored his nautical life: he amassed a significant trove of marine paintings, books, ephemera, and ships in bottles. He married his wife in 2018.
Facing later health issues, he approached them with characteristic pragmatism, finding interventions tedious when they interfered with “life.” His endurance repeatedly astonished medical staff. True to form, he ultimately exercised a final, brave autonomy, refusing treatment to ensure he remained independent to the last—a final voyage navigated entirely on his own terms.
