(Monday, April 4th, 2016)
As I write this we are once again in choppy seas, with large swells causing serious rolls, sleeping at night not at all assured, that sort of thing. And only yesterday we were cruising fast through glassy seas, and I was able to spot some seals and some sea turtles in the water. Birds were out and about because we are semi-close to shore (we are off Guatemala’s western border).
Across the Pacific for a few weeks, we saw all sorts of weather, so I cannot report “mostly calm” or “mostly stormy”. I am also not sure if there is an “average” condition to report, because that also wasn’t the case.
Each day, for me, I decided what kind of exercise was possible. Sometimes I can jump rope on the pilot deck, but usually, even if we are not rolling, the wind is too strong up there to manage a jump rope. Sometimes I jump rope on the afterdeck, shielded from the wind by our superstructure, but still subject to rolls, and since I cannot see upcoming swells, the magnitude of the rolls is not as predictable as when I am on the pilot deck. I often get caught in the rope – the combination gusty winds, and rolls, and my limited jump rope skill, is enough. No worries, I am not trying for any records, just trying to keep my legs in shape, and my heart rate elevated for a little while.
Finally, there is the stationary bike, which is in an enclosed room on the pilot deck with a view forward. That technique is available in cold weather, and when there are moderate rolls. The bike is not secured to the floor, so there is an additional skill necessary. One must see (or feel, but seeing is more sure) the start of a roll, then lean (quite a bit) to keep the bike upright as one pedals. At first I fell off (well, had to skitter off and grab the bike and something stationary, not that bad) a few times, but I got the hang of it, and I am getting better at bigger rolls. Unlike in the gym or at home, one cannot remove one’s hands from the handlebars with impunity.
And some days, like today, are not for exercise. The pounding, in addition to surprise rolls, make something even as simple as pushups threatening to one’s nose.
Okay. Well, for a few days mid-Pacific we had some really bad weather. We had high winds, big swells, and we were getting pounded for quite a while. Everybody was working with little sleep. It was rather tiring just trying to do anything. We were sending up giant plumes of spray from the bow every so often, as tall as the forward crane.
We took in some water in the forecastle. That’s the set of rooms under the main deck at the bow of the ship, mostly used to contain dangerous substances, like paint, but also where some of the bow equipment is located. The water we took on did damage to both of our anchor winches, and disabled our bow thruster. The bow thruster is an electric-driven (1200 horsepower – even the small things are big) propeller that can be turned 180 degrees, to help maneuver the ship in tight spaces when tugs are not available. It is not essential, but it is not something we take lightly, as it can also be used in emergencies to help steer.
The anchor winches are another story. Without at least one anchor winch we have no ability to anchor. Well, that’s not precise. We can let the anchor out. We just cannot bring it back. You can see that this is not optimum for continued progress.
The ability to anchor is required for Panama Canal passage. They won’t allow us to make a reservation without it. We still had 2+ weeks at least before arriving at Panama, but the Canal requires a 10-day (or something close to that) lead reservation for passage, so they can do their planning.
So I got to see some on-board administration. The 3rd Engineer and the Electrician had all of their duties reassigned to others, so that they could dedicate themselves to getting us some anchor winch capability. The Captain also planned ahead in case they were unsuccessful – what parts and what other technicians might we need, and where and when could they be delivered to us.
There were a couple of the early “let’s see if just drying everything out will work” kind of attempts, but it became obvious that things were broken and needed to be repaired. The short of it: We now have one operating anchor winch, which has been tested. The same duo has been assigned to look into the bow thruster, and then, thirdly, to see if the 2nd anchor winch can be made to work. The fact that some parts were cannibalized from the 2nd anchor winch to make the 1st one work lead to the notion that fixing the 2nd anchor winch will be more of a problem than fixing the first.
The fix took a little more than a week, which was just a day or so early enough to make a “no worries” prediction to the Canal folk. Our schedule had already been adjusted by a day or so due to the slow progress we had made through the bad weather, but wasn’t further affected by winch work.
The Captain told me later that this was unusually bad weather. On a previous contract a couple years ago, he crossed the Pacific 10 times in 6 months. His contract was a Yokohama-Houston back and forth, and was even in winter when they expect conditions to be worse. He said that none of those 10 trips were anything like what we’d seen on this one.
We also sustained damage to three pieces of cargo. The Captain was especially frustrated by this – if I understand correctly, and he wasn’t that talkative about this, it was his first “damaged cargo” report in more than 20 years at sea, 9 as Captain. So, again, this is an indication to me.
Am I bad luck? On the Rickmers Shanghai, we had bad weather enough to break a windshield. On this ship we took on a bit too much water at the fore during some heavy seas. Nah, I am not a believer in that sort of thing. Nope. Nope. But. This year we will likely be at sea on my birthday. On a 13th. A Friday. Maybe I’ll wear my life jacket all day – call it a fashion statement. All positive voodoo accepted.
I got to see how much it is necessary to be self-reliant. Having to get help delivered, had we been forced to use that option, would surely have cost us significant time and money, and might have resulted in not being able to deliver some cargo within contracted time frames. Also, as it is for other disciplines, you don’t realize how many things (people, equipment, tools, spare parts) are “Achilles Heels”, in that they are single points of failure. We lost two anchor winches, that’s true, but via one event, and in one area of the ship. I call that a single point.
Also, you realize that many events seem, at first, more dangerous than they really are. The anchor winch is an example. Seems that you can’t do without an anchor. But in an emergency, we could have used the anchor – knowing that it would be a bitch to get it back. And, if it weren’t for the Canal passage, we might have been able to get along without an anchor for a bit more time. So, it wasn’t a dramatic catastrophe, just a serious problem that immediately achieved top priority, and got worked as such. I was impressed with the calmness, perspective, and decision crispness on board.
And, like for most modern organizations, the aftermath. The Captain, the Chief Engineer, and the Chief Mate have a ton of paperwork to produce for the “home office”, and they say that they will get second-guessed by folks who have less real experience on a freighter than me. Ha. That part of corporate life is similar everywhere.