Sorry havnt finished the entry because we´re NOT GONE YET.
Monday, December 15, 2008
An easy run to Cadiz
5th to 11th November 2008
The weather on this run was excellent, and (almost) everyone seemed to be in good spirits for the short voyage with a long stay on shore at the end. Seas were glassy, and temperatures were cooler. Although I still find the heat little more than comfortable, the boys are starting to put on double layers and then also windbreakers and woolen hats. I don’t think anyone wants to come to New Zealand now because they keep talking about how cold it must be because of my (lack of) reaction.
I FORGOT TO MENTION my good buddy 2nd Officer Ranjeet Rana left us in Taranto. His replacement is a tall and rather stocky young Indian guy by the name of Sameer Kazi. Sam is a beautiful guy.. a little day-dreamy even by my standards, but with a heart of gold. He’s always enthusiastic to lend his strength, congratulation, thoughts and thoughtfulness- all of this even when un-necessary. We also have a few new crew-members, including A.B. Russel Briones, a new Chief Cook (so Ramon has likewise gone home). Ramon was my friend but Elvin is an excellent cook, and knows exactly what to feed the two Europeans aboard to keep us smiling. Bosun Sano also went home, and his replacement is Emmanuel Libao. Manny is younger than Ismael – which makes me wonder how old Ismael is because Manny will turn 40 in December. Like all Filipinos in my opinion, he looks much younger then he is. His English is “better than average”, and we’re getting on really well. Now I’ve spent a bit of time on deck and know my way around, and also because I’m old hat to this kind of labor, he and others consequently are treating me more like an equal in fact, instead of only by superior rank.
We followed the same path as before, except backwards – south down the Ionian Sea along the coast of Italy, into the Malta Channel then the Sicily Channel, starting to turn westward north of Tunisia and then again past Algeria and Morocco. After plain sailing through the Strait of Gibraltar, we made a broad turn north-north-eastwards and then north-east-by-north on approach to Cadiz Bay.
Discharging this time around had left plenty of mess on the starboard deck, so much so that our first job was this: Hold man-entrances were rigged with canvas and rope into shutes, leading into the holds themselves. We gathered all the cargo on deck into piles using plough-like scrapers and shoveled this into quite a few field-expedient buckets made early on the first day. These were transported via trollies to the nearest convenient hold entrance, and sent down the shute to supplement our next load. This took the better part of the 3 (12 hour) days for both the deck crew and riding squad (remember, the poor guys who are on temporary contract to work underdeck). And by the way, the day we were working closest to the bow was actually the only period when the seas were fairly choppy. Water was flying near horizontally. We all got wet.
After this was complete there were plenty of little things that needed to be done to get the ship ready for dry-dock. A lot of my work at this time was going in and out of the void-spaces checking and repairing valves and the mechanical valve control tele-actuators, which open and shut valves for the ballasting system.
As we came close to Gibraltar I made a request to the Captain to be allowed to steer the ship through the traffic separation scheme, and this was allowed. It’s a bit of a thrill to have the helm of such a massive ship. There was quite a bit of traffic through the strait at that time (it was dark by the time we entered the traffic scheme), and there is a strong southward current to compensate for. Usually no more than 5° on the rudder were necessary to get by, but occasionally I’d put on as much as 10°. Occasionally I can put the rudder in a “sweet-spot” for around ten minutes at a time, preventing constant adjustment for the current – this means that the rudder angle remains the same, say at 3° to starboard, and my “course made good” stays relatively straight. I was told later that I could handle the ship like a pro –however restricted the situation. We quickly became a spectacle because of our size, and some of the cruisers and other passenger ships got quite close to me. They moved pretty quickly though when it became necessary to alter course. Sound signals are used when necessary, and one blast of the horn means that I’m about to turn to starboard (two for port). One of them veered off so dramatically after sounding that everyone on the bridge joked about it for the rest of the evening, and provoked us to branch into making fun of a wide variety of things and people aboard. All in all I steered the ship at this time for XXX hours –my longest turn at the wheel.
The next day as we came into Bahia do Cadiz we weighed anchor and waited for clearance. We had a good view of the cities Rota, Cadiz, and Porto do Santa Maria – including the medieval walls and fortifications that perhaps lately guarded some of my ancestors (Lisbon, Portugal is very close by) from my other ancestors (the British - and the French too that far back). Jess the 3rd Officer, after 12 months continuous at sea, enthusiastically disembarked and came ashore via a pilot boat along with Glen the mess-man. This left us short our butler –and the officers bit their tongues and did our own cleaning and dish washing and coffee making. I got the job of supplying the bridge with coffee gear, cookies and water bottles –which was fine by me because I got access to the food stores.
I also got the job of Acting 3rd Officer. Captain put Chief Officer to work mending some of his ballasting mistakes immediately, and so the watches were divided into 2 per 12 hours. I took the 6 to 12 watch. Now, at anchor, there is easily as much responsibility and perhaps more danger than while on the move –so my head was really swollen at getting this post. The ship moves regularly, often dramatically revolving around the anchor point. There is a lot of traffic coming in and out of port –including small boats, fishing fleets and other large ships. Dozens of cruise liners traffic around Cadiz. Not to mention the military activity that supports Gibraltar, with Morocco probably within swimming distance. During my watches we were inspected regularly by an MRV patrolling the area daily, an off-shore patrol boat, and a frigate. No submarines in sight though – probably all hiding (Submarines would be extremely useful in sea-denial roles around Gibraltar). Large squadrons of landing craft of various kinds, sometimes carrying tanks, could occasionally be seen in transit. Anyway, to hit any of these would be embarrassing to say the least.
I’m itching to go ashore…..
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Taranto, Italy.
1st to 5th November 2008
The discharging operation began immediately after the plan was agreed on in the meeting between ship and shore. Teams of loud Italian stevedores embarked and got to work under the direction of a large and serious looking foreman. Our job was to remove the cleating rings from all hatch-covers, chip and grease them replacing bolts where necessary, and replace them. We were also on standby in case something went wrong with the operation – and sometimes it did. Sounds easy? Somewhat, however I don’t think this job had been done in several years. Some of the bolts were probably as old as the ship herself. Also we had to avoid working on covers where the discharging cranes were operating.
Although we spent nearly a week discharging our cargo here, the Captain kept myself, Bosun and the fitter Rahul quite busy all week. Perhaps he wanted to see us work together, or perhaps he only wanted to save time for dry dock. Even after nearly two months, Captain Pabla is nearly impossible for me to read –except when he chooses for me to do so –I only know his will, or his personality when he chooses to mingle socially. One thing is sure, from his tower the bridge, the Captain sees all… well nearly all ;-). Actually he spent quite a bit of time on deck watching and lending his guidance. I only managed to spend one day actually in the city, but what a day.
Taranto from sea and in port gives some good clues as to what to expect once ashore (as with most cities). Ancient and medieval walls, buildings, bridges, fortifications are mixed with more modern buildings. It is inhabited by quaint as well as ultra modern pleasure-craft, cars, helicopters, but no buses or trucks are seen. A missile destroyer and an anti-aircraft frigate patrol the bay with the poise of sharks, sometimes anchoring (very swiftly I recorded on video) for a few hours, then repositioning. A WWII artillery destroyer (specific class unknown) is moored permanently in a bay on the other side of the isthmus, but I only caught a glimpse until I was ashore. However the new Navy base is in plain sight, and the Polizi patrol boats are immediately next door to our dock. Occasionally a large hunter-killer submarine will sail past in surfaced mode (no photos, sorry – to myself).
The discharging operation began immediately after the plan was agreed on in the meeting between ship and shore. Teams of loud Italian stevedores embarked and got to work under the direction of a large and serious looking foreman. Our job was to remove the cleating rings from all hatch-covers, chip and grease them replacing bolts where necessary, and replace them. We were also on standby in case something went wrong with the operation – and sometimes it did. Sounds easy? Somewhat, however I don’t think this job had been done in several years. Some of the bolts were probably as old as the ship herself. Also we had to avoid working on covers where the discharging cranes were operating.
The process was this.. The hatch cover is raised so that the wheels were free to move, then drawn along it’s rails perhaps two feet. This freed the cleating rings and ensured all bar one side was accessible to work on without danger of dropping them into the hold. The two bolts were forced or broken open, and the ring block dropped down and was removed. Bolts were replaced where necessary, and washers and blocks were chipped, greased and replaced. Each block took from half to one hour to go through, and we had quite a few to do.
Occasionally the hydraulics would fail on a hatch-cover, and we would have to drain the system, remove the pipe or other part, fabricate and/or replace a new one, and refill the system with oil. Holds are discharged in stages in order to reduce unequal stresses on the hull, and ballasting is synchronized with this. After a discharge cycle was completed a gang of stevedores scraped and shoveled the tops of the hatch covers, moving the excess back into the hold. After a hold was mostly emptied, a digger and/or bucket-dozer was lowered into it using the cranes and the remaining iron was removed. At night this meant the rigging and maintaining of lights around the hatch opening, which also prompted the maintenance of the (very strange screw-in) electrical fittings. This was usually the Electricians job.
My first impression of Taranto itself was the armed guards at the gate. Their arms were not what impressed me. They were dressed pretty much the same way they would have been dressed in World War 2, with a backdrop of the ancient and run-down buildings of the old sector of the city. They looked sharp. Riding boots, officers caps, suits, badges, chrome, rank insignia, classic style holsters, and best of all an air of self importance that could have smothered a whole march of liberal protesters. I’m convinced they were thinking of how excellent they were all day and all night long, because they also seemed like they couldn’t have cared less if we were smuggling cruise missiles past them. The most we ever had in communication with them was a preoccupied shooing gesture waving us through or into the falling barrier.
I started this outing with four Filipino’s, A.B. Eddie, O.S. “Little” Alex, and an Oiler who’s name I can’t remember even though we were quite good friends. Because of their tastes our first port of call was the mall- alcohol, groceries and internet. The Filipino’s have no interest in the history or culture of the place. This didn’t really excite me that much, but I needed to do some things there myself and also use the internet. It was a regular single level mall with a grocery store.. and no internet. We wasted a lot of time there because there was also no bank there or nearby to change our U.S. currency into Euros. We looked at the shops and girls, cursed our taxi driver for his bad advise, and then teased Alex to pass the time until our taxi was due back. We cracked mafia jokes at him when he picked us up at around four.
After the boys were dropped off back at the ship I was dropped off in the main square of the city. It blew my mind to be amongst such old buildings, still happily servicing their tenants or what-ever shop or office happened to occupy it. The truly ancient part of the city was a bit of a slum, but what a slum. Most had been modified at the ground level, or else were very well restored or maintained. The entry level items from big designer labels, as well as some more modest(?) ones can be bought here for quite reasonable prices. I wandered around in a daze taking photos of everything. I bought a snack from a vintage looking kiosk in the corner of the square, and throughout the evening bought gelato from several different gelateries.
Small, well established looking technical institutes are prevalent, and quite often I could walk past a music school and hear some quite advanced piano, violin, or other recitals going on inside. The Arsenal was quite impressive, as was a medieval coastal fort and the remains of some old pier structures. Every part of the city has had a lot of care put into it over the ages. Many of the buildings were almost enough to make the Auckland Museum look like a barn-yard. Even regular park benches can be considered objet’s d’art, often Art Nouveu, and along the coast the pavement takes the form of a mosaic.
After a good look around I settled on buying a Antony Morato jacket, and at around 10 when the shops were closing (it was Monday or Tuesday I think) I settled down at a café a waited for my taxi and drank Red-Bull & Cola (thoroughly recommended).
Although I petitioned Chief Officer for permission to go out again even for a walk, this never eventuated. He was evidently too scared to speak to the captain, and I was advised to respect the chain of command by the other officers–which I did. The only reason I went out that time was because the Captain asked if I wanted to go ashore as he was surprised that I hadn’t already been. This is getting a little worrying. It is painting a kind of bad picture of the Captain to the crew, because they believe that he is being unjust toward C/O. The other officers have begun to understand what is going on –after my speaking to them quietly and then after confirmation in their own experience. Anyway, I wasn’t born yesterday, so I know if C/O is playing at something along this tact it will only be a matter of time before he hangs himself. One of my at-sea assignments from the Maritime School is to write a 500 word essay on the procedure I should follow if an OOW (Officer Of the Watch) appears not to be doing things properly, and I’m starting to think it might be written from practical experience.
NO INTERNET AT ALL in Taranto –at least not that anyone could find. Further adventures to come.
NO INTERNET AT ALL in Taranto –at least not that anyone could find. Further adventures to come.
Tubarao to Taranto in 19 days
Sea Voyage 2, 12th October - 4th November 2008
I re-boarded the ship at about 15 minutes to 6pm, 18.00 being the time that all shore leave was cancelled. Apparently in my absence there was a bit of a worry that I was not returning, and the officers had turns at telling me that if the board time is 18.00 that I should actually be back an hour or so before this… even though before I disembarked I was advised only to be back before 18.00… OK. No Uniform as yet. The ship chandler had said that shirts could only be ordered by him in quantities exceeding 40 units – a bit of an over-kill – so a no-go. Such is life, but I’ve now been given permission to work on the bridge in civvies. Both my regular white shirts are now yellow and missing buttons due to a machine malfunction.
Prashant had been spending time with the new Chief Mate, Mahommad Mahmud of Bangladesh. The new C/O is a strange one, but I put this down to cultural differences at first and really I didn’t have any choice but to watch and see how he was. His English is not too good, but he’s friendly enough. Also the new Chief Engineer, Anatolii Budonyi had arrived in the morning. Chief is a big old Ukrainian giant, an ex-soldier, and in Prashant’s absence has been a key social ally. It’s nice to have another European on board, and we’ve become good friends. He is quite a joker, and throughout the voyage has been a constant source of amusement to everyone.
Chief is one of those guys that can be loud, put things in their place, and still make everyone feel good. Also because he has specifically requested European food made for him, and as a consequence I am eating steak and German sausage these days. Trying to explain to the Cook the concept of too many carbohydrates is a little difficult how-ever. Simply not eating them doesn’t work either, because Ramon is long-gone by the time the Mess-man is clearing away our main course. Anyway I caught Chief him playing Counter-Strike once. He was quite embarrassed at first, but now we’re trying to get a router and recruiting crew that own laptops to have team battles.
Before casting off the crew said their farewells to First Officer, Captain, and Chief Engineer. This is a big change in itself, and the next month and a half will see new Second and Third Officers. This kind of upheaval is or should be unusual, as it means that there is going to be a bit of trouble while so many people are getting used to their stations. Prashant and I exchanged emails, and I gave him my regards to his wife who despite disembarking a month or two before I arrived was constantly asking how I was doing. Captain Razack gave me his best wishes and told me he hoped to see me with stripes on my shoulder soon. Chief Islam gave me a half smile, a nod and shook my hand, which is quite an affectionate gesture and a certain mark of friendship coming from this guy.
Preparations for dry-dock are on the minds of both departments. For the first several days we assisted the Riding Squad –one of the deck teams, the Indians, who I learned is not always part of the ship’s compliment –erect scaffolding in the port-side bunker (fuel) tank. Although the tank is mostly empty, both man-holes were opened and a blower was attached to one of them to ventilate and push out excess fumes. This was then painstakingly cleaned in several stages (took about two weeks) by crew wearing filter masks and other specific PPE (Personal Protective Equipment). I assisted for a day at each of the stage, but mostly I was given other assignments.
Just before the cleaning stage of the Bunker Tank job began, Bosun, AB Ramilo, and myself cleaned out the Drinking Water Tank. High Pressure water-blaster, squeegees, mops and lot of cool cool water – at this point we were sailing back up the Sahara – a lot of fun for us all. After we shut off Chief says he wants me to make the sign-writing detailing the tanks inspection and maintenance date on the door. After this there was plenty of other things to be sign-written. This is a good job.
When-ever there is nothing else to do I help out Rahul the Deck Fitter (P.O/D) chipping and relining the brakes on the mooring winches. This is good because I get to see exactly how they work. Also I like dealing with the simple mechanics of these electric motor powered machines. Some of the smaller deck gear (not only hand-tools) is pneumatic powered. More sign-writing indicating when the Brake-lining has been replaced was required. C/O takes a lot of photos at the Captains behest, and for the ships records. Deck work is very much the same as an industrial plant.
Chief Officer MM is a bit of a puzzle to everyone. Captain flat out doesn’t like him, and being his watch under-study I have noticed that he is not the most professional (to say the least). Captain Pabla has taken to spending a lot of time on the bridge questioning said professionalism, and is forced to constantly remind him of the correct procedures for things. I will not list my own misgivings here, suffice to say I am glad of the support of the other Officers. I’m thankful I’ve read a bit of Machiavelli’s “Republic” as well as Plato’s.
This places me in a funny position. Captain Pabla, who is now in sole command, is spending quite a bit of time with me personally, which is unusual between a Captain and a Cadet and excellent for my education and motivation. He can be a grueling teacher at times, but nothing I’m unfamiliar with. As he explains I must take a lot more responsibility quickly both to make up for C/Os weaknesses and because the other two deck officers will soon be relieved and I will be playing a more. We are developing a bit of an understanding, and my respect for him all-round is growing.
In the mean-time I am in fact getting quite a bit of experience off the bridge. Chief Mate gets me to do strange little things which in the end make me look good and I learn a lot from, especially after he found out that I was good with computers (which in his eyes automatically makes me good at everything vaguely connected with computers)– such as reproducing scale diagrams sections of the ships blue-prints (using MS Paint -ahem), writing reports and plans for him in formal English or using excel spreadsheets, etc. My first language is a commodity here.
Quite often after lunch I forego my rest period to help 3rd Mate out with the Fire-Gear and Lifeboat Maintenance. I should add that everything being done has it’s priority set by what needs to be done before the Superintendent (the tall distinguished gentleman from Rotterdam) joins us in Taranto to accompany u to dry-dock. Apparently he used to be Chief Engineer on Faith N. Anyway, we inspected, tested, and repaired all the fire-hoses, their hydrants, and sprinkler systems, Breathing gear (SCBA), outfits, etc, changed lifeboat survival supplies, and did more sign-writing. He also showed me the drills schedule and gave me a soft copy of all the templates for these.
Early in the voyage we noticed by the tank soundings that WBT6P (a ballast tank) was getting a slight increase in it’s water levels. After monitoring for a few days it was decided that we would have to pump out and take a better look. Again we’ve sprung a leak. Due to the nature of the problem and a possible cause it was decided to pump out using the portable Walden patent pump, which is pneumatic powered. This took several days and it was my responsibility to monitor this and also maintain the pump. This would cut out several ties a day and I would have to go through the procedure of entering the tank, climbing down to the bottom, fixing it (usually all that was required was some WD40 and some W.M.J.J. (White Man’s Ju-Ju), then climbing out again. This is quite a task and requires constant radio communication and a man on the upper deck standing by for safety purposes. Once I’m down there though I actually find the tanks quite relaxing in a kind of romantic dystopian way. Every time different work is done the tanks take on a different kind of scenery. Usually like a Gigeresque, sometimes flatly Indiana Jones with portable lights makeshift bridges of scaffolding. The bunker tank, the crew in protective gear, structure and fixed platforms with full scaffolding looks like an industrial music concert that no-one could forget.
After the first week at sea on Saturday night, Captain decided to have a barbeque dinner by the swimming pool. Everyone (not on or relieved of duty) cooked their own steak, fish, whatever and did some drinking. There was music and some of the Indian guys started dancing later on. I got some pretty funny photos. Good to see people relaxing instead of at work or lounging.
This journey brought us Northward back along our previous route up the coast on north-east Brazil, near the Canaries, the Sahara and Morocco, and then we made a right turn into the traffic separation scheme in force through the Strait of Gibraltar –between Morocco and Spain. From there we hugged the Morroccan coastline, taking us past Algeria, Tunisia, Sicily, and finally turned northwards up the coast if south eastern Italy and into Taranto. This was a big operation, as this is a high traffic zone and weather was generally bad. Tempers on my watch were frayed and weaknesses were picked on mercilessly, because a mistake here can lead to disaster for everyone on board. I did OK here and I am becoming more and more confident and competent on the bridge –learning to deal with potential close quarters situations, operating the various devices to my advantage –and my responsibilities grow to meet this. Captain leaned heavily on C/O and there is a lot of doubt surrounding his future here. This part is driving home to me the importance of my studies, as well as being able to identify the needs if the crew, the ship, and the situation which can never be taught in a class-room.
One of the most exciting and dangerous parts of this voyage came just before we altered our course northward for Italy, when we were hit by a waterspout. I was on the bridge, and noted the cloud and weather conditions. My findings were conveyed to C/O and consequently ignored. I went out on to the starboard side wing and confirmed the spiraling green-black cloud formation was headed straight for us. The sky turned green, and I regretted I didn’t have my camera on me. The first branch of black cloud seemed to reach directly for me, and was in fact only a dozen or two meters over my head. I marched briskly back into the bridge with this cloud tailing me like a dog, and closed the door. Then it was like you would expect, being inside a sea tornado. The Captain was on the bridge in a shot. The deck was cleared and secured, underdeck spaces were evacuated and bolted shut, anything loose was tied down, and an extra watch-keeper from the AB ranks was ordered to the bridge. Birds and sailors alike struggled to take shelter where they could. One enterprising sea-hawk managed to perch itself just in front of the windshield for a good 30 seconds before it was unceremoniously blown off again. Once we were sure everyone was OK, all we could do was wait and watch. Visibility was zero past our bow, but the sea around us churned and the deck was for the first time awash. Our danger was compounded by the fact that we were hardly alone in this sea. However – this lasted only about half an hour, and was finished as suddenly as it began.
As we came into Porta do Taranto I went down to the Engine Room to see how things were done there. This was really my first time in the control room whilst we were in action. It was interesting to see what is happening down there while someone is operating the ship from the bridge, and in many ways it is similar. All four Engineers and the Electrician are standing by for this operation. As orders were passed on deck and to the C.R. via radio and ship’s phone, I could picture pretty much what was going on. This has prompted me to borrow a copy of a Marine Engineering manual from Rahul.
Taranto’s ancient structures are prominent even from the ship. I’m pretty excited that I’ll have the opportunity to explore it.
I re-boarded the ship at about 15 minutes to 6pm, 18.00 being the time that all shore leave was cancelled. Apparently in my absence there was a bit of a worry that I was not returning, and the officers had turns at telling me that if the board time is 18.00 that I should actually be back an hour or so before this… even though before I disembarked I was advised only to be back before 18.00… OK. No Uniform as yet. The ship chandler had said that shirts could only be ordered by him in quantities exceeding 40 units – a bit of an over-kill – so a no-go. Such is life, but I’ve now been given permission to work on the bridge in civvies. Both my regular white shirts are now yellow and missing buttons due to a machine malfunction.
Prashant had been spending time with the new Chief Mate, Mahommad Mahmud of Bangladesh. The new C/O is a strange one, but I put this down to cultural differences at first and really I didn’t have any choice but to watch and see how he was. His English is not too good, but he’s friendly enough. Also the new Chief Engineer, Anatolii Budonyi had arrived in the morning. Chief is a big old Ukrainian giant, an ex-soldier, and in Prashant’s absence has been a key social ally. It’s nice to have another European on board, and we’ve become good friends. He is quite a joker, and throughout the voyage has been a constant source of amusement to everyone.
Chief is one of those guys that can be loud, put things in their place, and still make everyone feel good. Also because he has specifically requested European food made for him, and as a consequence I am eating steak and German sausage these days. Trying to explain to the Cook the concept of too many carbohydrates is a little difficult how-ever. Simply not eating them doesn’t work either, because Ramon is long-gone by the time the Mess-man is clearing away our main course. Anyway I caught Chief him playing Counter-Strike once. He was quite embarrassed at first, but now we’re trying to get a router and recruiting crew that own laptops to have team battles.
Before casting off the crew said their farewells to First Officer, Captain, and Chief Engineer. This is a big change in itself, and the next month and a half will see new Second and Third Officers. This kind of upheaval is or should be unusual, as it means that there is going to be a bit of trouble while so many people are getting used to their stations. Prashant and I exchanged emails, and I gave him my regards to his wife who despite disembarking a month or two before I arrived was constantly asking how I was doing. Captain Razack gave me his best wishes and told me he hoped to see me with stripes on my shoulder soon. Chief Islam gave me a half smile, a nod and shook my hand, which is quite an affectionate gesture and a certain mark of friendship coming from this guy.
Preparations for dry-dock are on the minds of both departments. For the first several days we assisted the Riding Squad –one of the deck teams, the Indians, who I learned is not always part of the ship’s compliment –erect scaffolding in the port-side bunker (fuel) tank. Although the tank is mostly empty, both man-holes were opened and a blower was attached to one of them to ventilate and push out excess fumes. This was then painstakingly cleaned in several stages (took about two weeks) by crew wearing filter masks and other specific PPE (Personal Protective Equipment). I assisted for a day at each of the stage, but mostly I was given other assignments.
Just before the cleaning stage of the Bunker Tank job began, Bosun, AB Ramilo, and myself cleaned out the Drinking Water Tank. High Pressure water-blaster, squeegees, mops and lot of cool cool water – at this point we were sailing back up the Sahara – a lot of fun for us all. After we shut off Chief says he wants me to make the sign-writing detailing the tanks inspection and maintenance date on the door. After this there was plenty of other things to be sign-written. This is a good job.
When-ever there is nothing else to do I help out Rahul the Deck Fitter (P.O/D) chipping and relining the brakes on the mooring winches. This is good because I get to see exactly how they work. Also I like dealing with the simple mechanics of these electric motor powered machines. Some of the smaller deck gear (not only hand-tools) is pneumatic powered. More sign-writing indicating when the Brake-lining has been replaced was required. C/O takes a lot of photos at the Captains behest, and for the ships records. Deck work is very much the same as an industrial plant.
Chief Officer MM is a bit of a puzzle to everyone. Captain flat out doesn’t like him, and being his watch under-study I have noticed that he is not the most professional (to say the least). Captain Pabla has taken to spending a lot of time on the bridge questioning said professionalism, and is forced to constantly remind him of the correct procedures for things. I will not list my own misgivings here, suffice to say I am glad of the support of the other Officers. I’m thankful I’ve read a bit of Machiavelli’s “Republic” as well as Plato’s.
This places me in a funny position. Captain Pabla, who is now in sole command, is spending quite a bit of time with me personally, which is unusual between a Captain and a Cadet and excellent for my education and motivation. He can be a grueling teacher at times, but nothing I’m unfamiliar with. As he explains I must take a lot more responsibility quickly both to make up for C/Os weaknesses and because the other two deck officers will soon be relieved and I will be playing a more. We are developing a bit of an understanding, and my respect for him all-round is growing.
In the mean-time I am in fact getting quite a bit of experience off the bridge. Chief Mate gets me to do strange little things which in the end make me look good and I learn a lot from, especially after he found out that I was good with computers (which in his eyes automatically makes me good at everything vaguely connected with computers)– such as reproducing scale diagrams sections of the ships blue-prints (using MS Paint -ahem), writing reports and plans for him in formal English or using excel spreadsheets, etc. My first language is a commodity here.
Quite often after lunch I forego my rest period to help 3rd Mate out with the Fire-Gear and Lifeboat Maintenance. I should add that everything being done has it’s priority set by what needs to be done before the Superintendent (the tall distinguished gentleman from Rotterdam) joins us in Taranto to accompany u to dry-dock. Apparently he used to be Chief Engineer on Faith N. Anyway, we inspected, tested, and repaired all the fire-hoses, their hydrants, and sprinkler systems, Breathing gear (SCBA), outfits, etc, changed lifeboat survival supplies, and did more sign-writing. He also showed me the drills schedule and gave me a soft copy of all the templates for these.
Early in the voyage we noticed by the tank soundings that WBT6P (a ballast tank) was getting a slight increase in it’s water levels. After monitoring for a few days it was decided that we would have to pump out and take a better look. Again we’ve sprung a leak. Due to the nature of the problem and a possible cause it was decided to pump out using the portable Walden patent pump, which is pneumatic powered. This took several days and it was my responsibility to monitor this and also maintain the pump. This would cut out several ties a day and I would have to go through the procedure of entering the tank, climbing down to the bottom, fixing it (usually all that was required was some WD40 and some W.M.J.J. (White Man’s Ju-Ju), then climbing out again. This is quite a task and requires constant radio communication and a man on the upper deck standing by for safety purposes. Once I’m down there though I actually find the tanks quite relaxing in a kind of romantic dystopian way. Every time different work is done the tanks take on a different kind of scenery. Usually like a Gigeresque, sometimes flatly Indiana Jones with portable lights makeshift bridges of scaffolding. The bunker tank, the crew in protective gear, structure and fixed platforms with full scaffolding looks like an industrial music concert that no-one could forget.
After the first week at sea on Saturday night, Captain decided to have a barbeque dinner by the swimming pool. Everyone (not on or relieved of duty) cooked their own steak, fish, whatever and did some drinking. There was music and some of the Indian guys started dancing later on. I got some pretty funny photos. Good to see people relaxing instead of at work or lounging.
This journey brought us Northward back along our previous route up the coast on north-east Brazil, near the Canaries, the Sahara and Morocco, and then we made a right turn into the traffic separation scheme in force through the Strait of Gibraltar –between Morocco and Spain. From there we hugged the Morroccan coastline, taking us past Algeria, Tunisia, Sicily, and finally turned northwards up the coast if south eastern Italy and into Taranto. This was a big operation, as this is a high traffic zone and weather was generally bad. Tempers on my watch were frayed and weaknesses were picked on mercilessly, because a mistake here can lead to disaster for everyone on board. I did OK here and I am becoming more and more confident and competent on the bridge –learning to deal with potential close quarters situations, operating the various devices to my advantage –and my responsibilities grow to meet this. Captain leaned heavily on C/O and there is a lot of doubt surrounding his future here. This part is driving home to me the importance of my studies, as well as being able to identify the needs if the crew, the ship, and the situation which can never be taught in a class-room.
One of the most exciting and dangerous parts of this voyage came just before we altered our course northward for Italy, when we were hit by a waterspout. I was on the bridge, and noted the cloud and weather conditions. My findings were conveyed to C/O and consequently ignored. I went out on to the starboard side wing and confirmed the spiraling green-black cloud formation was headed straight for us. The sky turned green, and I regretted I didn’t have my camera on me. The first branch of black cloud seemed to reach directly for me, and was in fact only a dozen or two meters over my head. I marched briskly back into the bridge with this cloud tailing me like a dog, and closed the door. Then it was like you would expect, being inside a sea tornado. The Captain was on the bridge in a shot. The deck was cleared and secured, underdeck spaces were evacuated and bolted shut, anything loose was tied down, and an extra watch-keeper from the AB ranks was ordered to the bridge. Birds and sailors alike struggled to take shelter where they could. One enterprising sea-hawk managed to perch itself just in front of the windshield for a good 30 seconds before it was unceremoniously blown off again. Once we were sure everyone was OK, all we could do was wait and watch. Visibility was zero past our bow, but the sea around us churned and the deck was for the first time awash. Our danger was compounded by the fact that we were hardly alone in this sea. However – this lasted only about half an hour, and was finished as suddenly as it began.
As we came into Porta do Taranto I went down to the Engine Room to see how things were done there. This was really my first time in the control room whilst we were in action. It was interesting to see what is happening down there while someone is operating the ship from the bridge, and in many ways it is similar. All four Engineers and the Electrician are standing by for this operation. As orders were passed on deck and to the C.R. via radio and ship’s phone, I could picture pretty much what was going on. This has prompted me to borrow a copy of a Marine Engineering manual from Rahul.
Taranto’s ancient structures are prominent even from the ship. I’m pretty excited that I’ll have the opportunity to explore it.
Pt II: Praia Mole, Porto do Tubarao, Rio Santa Maria, Baio e Ihla do Espirito Santo e Prefectura do Vitoria.
Friday and Saturday, 10th & 11th October 2008
We finally picked up anchor at 07.00, and moored at 10.30 (-3 GMT), at Pier II of Porto do Tubarao. I took my place on the bridge for this operation and assisted the Captains and the pilot who boarded on our passage in by recording important information such as changes to thruster settings, Pilot and tug details, times etc. Third Mate Jess and AB Bobet Catapang were also present on the bridge. Three tugs, the Hercules, Taurus, and S-Joao assisted us as we came closer into the port –maneuvering us into position alongside and so as not to get stuck in the shallows of the harbour. While the deck crew managed our mooring lines, working in conjunction with the stevedores ashore and under the direction of Chie and Second Mates, I continued to keep a lookout on the bridge while the Captains communicated to them via radio.
We ended up drinking on the beach near our drop-off point after doing some shopping at Wal-Mart (exotic, eh?). Lucky I didn’t want to buy much from Wal-Mart due to M.C. McDodge money-changer. 2 t-shirts (to wear as head-coverings), razors, some “guarana c/ laranga” (guarana and orange) soft-drink called “Uai”. As I said it was impossible to find a Portugeuse-Englese lexicon, even when I (think I) managed to describe it, here or anywhere else. Same with 3V Calculator batteries, and shaving cream, and sunglasses I didn’t need to take out a loan for –among other things I take for granted. The beach was actually pretty good, and probably a better cultural experience than going into central Vitoria. Every hundred or so meters there was a kiosk where you could buy beer and food. People drink beer nearly like water over here, and drinking on the beach is A.O.K. with the armed Polizia. We didn’t even have to bribe them. We bought Bacardi from one of the supermarkets, some coconuts from a temporary stall, and borrowed a machete from the stall owner to cut them open so we could drink Bacardi out of them. Live musicians were playing at one of the kiosks, and there was some dancing. We ended up trying to talk to people- some understood enough. One guy was making free barbeque steak, so I spoke to him for quite a while. The drug dealers mostly spoke very good English –every time I went into a public toilet someone was there snorting cocaine.
“[Something in Portuguese],” stern voice from dealer,
“Sorry, only speak English,” monotone, after seeing he wasn’t armed,
“Oh.. American?” suspect,
“Noo, New Zealand,” conversational but slightly offended
“OH! New Zealand! You want?”
Vitoria has been my first South American city, so I don’t have much to base a comparison on. Things are prices averagely compared to New Zealand. Vice is high. Dishonesty is to be taken for granted, don’t be offended by it or you’ll cause trouble. If you become aware of it, tell them you know better, joke, barter a better deal, or remember someplace else you need to be. Buy a dictionary AND a travel guide BEFORE you go, or else spent your time with a local friend. Avoid the slums. Don’t go to places where there are chickens running around free, go no-where near the slums built on the hills. People are pretty friendly here otherwise, and the atmosphere is usually flat-out relaxed and happy. GREAT place to party. Next time I’ll find a way into the CBD.
We finally picked up anchor at 07.00, and moored at 10.30 (-3 GMT), at Pier II of Porto do Tubarao. I took my place on the bridge for this operation and assisted the Captains and the pilot who boarded on our passage in by recording important information such as changes to thruster settings, Pilot and tug details, times etc. Third Mate Jess and AB Bobet Catapang were also present on the bridge. Three tugs, the Hercules, Taurus, and S-Joao assisted us as we came closer into the port –maneuvering us into position alongside and so as not to get stuck in the shallows of the harbour. While the deck crew managed our mooring lines, working in conjunction with the stevedores ashore and under the direction of Chie and Second Mates, I continued to keep a lookout on the bridge while the Captains communicated to them via radio.
This gave me the opportunity to speak with the pilot. A pilot is someone very familiar with the entry route while mooring, and directs the tugs and ship until she is moored. Often these are experienced Captains, but sometimes they are just competent locals –as was the case here. We spoke about what to do and where to go in the city, and where not to go in the city and what not to do. We still had a good view of the shoreline and city, and so he was able to point out the approximate positions of important places to remember.
Chief Officer Tyagi and the Captains arranged the loading plan with a port authority, and this was expected to take 30 hours. 18.00hrs the next day was set as the time when all shore-leave expired. Once immigration had arrived I was given permission to go ashore. At around 15.00 I was ferried to the arrivals/departures gate by a small utility boat. I decided to go in with a party consisting of Myself, PO/ER Nelson, 3rd Engineer Benedict, 2nd Engineer Siddesh, and Electrical Officer Sujjeet. After reporting to the security terminal a plant mini-bus transported us through immigration and the outskirts of Vitoria.
We were dropped at a bus stop, where a taxi company had set up a permanent tent. As we waited for a bus to take us to a shopping centre, a Taxi driver approached us and the Indians bartered with him. Although we agreed on a price, he ended up charging us 4 times the price. He also took us to see a dodgy money changer, who I later found out ripped us off 30 Reais to the dollar. The two times I went into town, I never once got to see the central city. Whenever I took a taxi, only the local shops where the drivers received commission where discussed, and pretended not to understand when I tried to explain I wanted to go into the CBD. Buses are impossible if you don’t know either the city or Portuguese. No-one wants to talk to you unless you do, either. Also, I found it impossible to buy a phrase-book in the places we went to. Even the tourist kiosk, whose attendant spoke a little English, told me that he had no city map to give me.
We ended up drinking on the beach near our drop-off point after doing some shopping at Wal-Mart (exotic, eh?). Lucky I didn’t want to buy much from Wal-Mart due to M.C. McDodge money-changer. 2 t-shirts (to wear as head-coverings), razors, some “guarana c/ laranga” (guarana and orange) soft-drink called “Uai”. As I said it was impossible to find a Portugeuse-Englese lexicon, even when I (think I) managed to describe it, here or anywhere else. Same with 3V Calculator batteries, and shaving cream, and sunglasses I didn’t need to take out a loan for –among other things I take for granted. The beach was actually pretty good, and probably a better cultural experience than going into central Vitoria. Every hundred or so meters there was a kiosk where you could buy beer and food. People drink beer nearly like water over here, and drinking on the beach is A.O.K. with the armed Polizia. We didn’t even have to bribe them. We bought Bacardi from one of the supermarkets, some coconuts from a temporary stall, and borrowed a machete from the stall owner to cut them open so we could drink Bacardi out of them. Live musicians were playing at one of the kiosks, and there was some dancing. We ended up trying to talk to people- some understood enough. One guy was making free barbeque steak, so I spoke to him for quite a while. The drug dealers mostly spoke very good English –every time I went into a public toilet someone was there snorting cocaine.
“[Something in Portuguese],” stern voice from dealer,
“Sorry, only speak English,” monotone, after seeing he wasn’t armed,
“Oh.. American?” suspect,
“Noo, New Zealand,” conversational but slightly offended
“OH! New Zealand! You want?”
I explained that I was subject to drug-testing so as to be polite, but this guy wanted to know about New Zealand anyway so we spoke a while when he came outside. He seemed to know a little about us.
There are plenty of beggars around, but they were all begging for drink or drugs. They didn’t appear to be interested in the guy giving away food. I chased some birds that looked like turkey vultures on the beach at some point, kicked a soccer ball around for a bit with some of the punters, etc.
At one point I saw an owl while walking with the Electrical Officer Sujjeet, and we tried to take photos from as close as we could. He explained that in India the owl was a symbol for stupidity.. I told him that in European culture we tended to think the opposite.
I got back to the ship early morning, and ignored a security guard who tried to extort a $US1 bribe.. I’m told this isn’t a good idea, but he had to think before asking anyway so I ran with it. Being the only European in our group I think he assumed that I was a more important officer. Also I was slightly drunk, and bigger than him.
Went out the next morning to try to get into Vitoria city again, failed, and ended up spending my time wandering around, buying food, and taking photos. I spent a bit of time near at the internet Café (which had barely adequate service- hence no photos on the last post). Spent about half an hour trying to explain to a mall-attendant what I wanted for lunch.
Vitoria has been my first South American city, so I don’t have much to base a comparison on. Things are prices averagely compared to New Zealand. Vice is high. Dishonesty is to be taken for granted, don’t be offended by it or you’ll cause trouble. If you become aware of it, tell them you know better, joke, barter a better deal, or remember someplace else you need to be. Buy a dictionary AND a travel guide BEFORE you go, or else spent your time with a local friend. Avoid the slums. Don’t go to places where there are chickens running around free, go no-where near the slums built on the hills. People are pretty friendly here otherwise, and the atmosphere is usually flat-out relaxed and happy. GREAT place to party. Next time I’ll find a way into the CBD.
Monday, November 24, 2008
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