* Life on board
* Port-to-port log of our travels
- Oakland, USA to Busan, South Korea
- Busan, South Korea to Yantian, China
- Yantian, China to Kaohsiung, Taiwan
- Kaohsiung, Taiwan to Shanghai, China
- Shanghai, China to Kwangyang, South Korea
- Kwangyang, South Korea to Busan, South Korea
- Busan, South Korea to Long Beach, USA
- Long Beach, USA to Oakland, USA
Life on board. Our accommodations are very comfortable and reasonably spacious. We have the “Owner’s Cabin,” though the ship owner never uses it. Our cabin, along with the cabin designated for the Owner’s Representative, are really designed for passenger use. We are on the “F” deck, six decks above the main deck and two below the bridge. We have three large portholes to starboard and two looking forward in the “day room” (~250 sq. ft) and one looking forward in the bedroom (~125 sq. ft). At ~70' (and 85 well-trod steps) above the main deck we have a clear view forward; one deck lower runs the risk of having the forward view blocked by boxes. Engine noise is well muffled and propeller vibrations muted so our only sound is of soft air flow from the air conditioning / ventilation system. From our vantage point the day room has a full length couch, three chairs, a desk and table, a hi fi/CD/DVD player and a TV/DVD set. The bedroom has a double bed and a desk, chair, small table and plenty of storage room. The bathroom is well appointed and with the ship able to produce up to 50 tons of fresh water daily, we have no water restrictions. (On our 1984 cross-Pacific sailboat trip to New Zealand we carried 100 gallons of freshwater and no ability to make more. Four of us used only 66 gallons during the three-week leg from Seattle to Hawaii.
Our basic routine while at sea is simple, informative and productive. Up around 7 AM ship’s time, shower and computer time until breakfast at 7:30. After breakfast Liz checks our position with our small GPS, an amazing capability. We soon learned that it is best to stick a hand out around the corner of our outside deck to check for wind speed; with a headwind for 20-30 knots, our own speed of 20+ knots, and wind boost coming up from the hull, we can get quite a blast when rounding the corner. The morning is spent on computer work with occasional interruptions for reading or strolling until lunch at noon. After lunch, more computer and reading until mid-afternoon, followed by two- to five-circuits around the ship (at 2100' a circuit), exercises in our day room, often a visit to the bridge, and then supper at 5:30.
Our afternoon circuits around the ship were always enjoyable. We descend six flights on the starboard side to the main deck, below the two 42-person all-enclosed life boats and the emergency muster deck. Though our stroll is on a single vessel each section has its own personality. We start our trip walking forward, ~40' above a broad wake of foam and under a high stack of containers. Our destination: a small glimmer of light at the end of a near 1000' tunnel. First comes the noise of the reefer air conditioners, just forward of our narrow accommodations unit. Next, a broad and relatively quiet mid-ship section, the only noises being the metallic squeaks and groans that come from containers subject to the small bending and twisting movements of the ship. We then pass through another noisy reefer area followed by the crashing sea noise of the main bow wave. About 150' aft of the bow is the point where the tapered bow swells out to the width of the ship and the bow wave reaches full size, splashing out some 50' to the side, fulsome testimony to the power of the ~50,000 horsepower to drive the hull forward at 20 knots. We then pass a noisy cargo hold ventilator fan and climb up a deck to the quiet and calm of the bow, just forward of the containers. The bow section has two massive anchor windlasses and six dockline winches with 4" diameter lines for tying up at port. At >900' away from the engine and propeller the bow has no vibrations and if we stand just a tad back of the forward deckplate, essentially no noise or wind. We are in another world with no sense of motion except as we look at the ocean streaming past. Looking down at the very tip of the bow we see the bulbous nose leading us on, normally just below the surface of the water. These bulbs, near universal on newer vessels of 50' or more, reduce by a few percent the power requirements to maintain a given speed. Even in calm seas there is a slight pitching motion to the ship and as it rises, the bulb generates a huge amount of turbulence before it again returns to below sea level.
Reversing course we descend the port bow steps and head aft, repeating all the sections until we come to the last 100' of the ship. Noise and vibrations increase substantially and soon we are standing at the stern, right above the corkscrew swirls of the propeller and broad 250' wake of foam. At times we descend a deck to the six winches for decklines, the bosun’s lockers and the makeshift basketball court, with a single basket forward and, for obvious reasons, none aft.
In our daily activities, and with the sole exception when we boarded the ship in Oakland, we have managed to avoid the ship’s elevator. We are thus assured of at least 25 flights of stair-climbing a day, and sometimes a lot more.
During our ocean voyage we also swam in the pool, made visits to the engine room (most impressive!), ship’s infirmary, galley, and other nooks and crannies, and tended weekly to our laundry.
For most of our meals, four decks down, we are joined by the captain, chief mate, and at times, the chief engineer. Our discussions have been wide ranging and very enjoyable. We appreciated their willingness to be bombarded by innumerable questions, to spend most of their mealtime in English, and for the mutual exchanges about affairs of the world and of tales about travels, close calls, exploits and families. Their English is excellent, the ship’s official language, but we are all too aware that if we were not there they would be conversing, and sharing jokes, in German.
We noted the clear hierarchy maintained aboard ship, also commented upon by other freighter cruise travelers. For the most part officers seem to address each other by their title, not name, and the captain’s table in the dining room is only available to the captain, chief engineer, chief mate, and passengers. While at first glance this seems contrary to the informality of much of American life it does have a long-established rationale throughout history. In a complex enterprise, whether on board ship, an airplane, a hospital, or most especially in the military, a command structure is necessary and decisions from above must be followed promptly and without question. Accordingly, these systems incorporate various ways to remind all participants of rank and authority. These include distinctive uniforms, different quality food, separate dining arrangements, better accommodations, other privileges, and, of course, use of titles rather than names. (In our case and when at sea only the steward has a ‘uniform,’ a white jacket; everyone else is in very informal, your-own-choice attire.) Coming from our current perspective of retirees now external of any such system the formality seems a bit strange, but recalling our earlier years as a novice in a convent, a student in a medical school, intern in a hospital or a new academic in a university, it isn’t all that surprising.
During the evening it is more reading, both silently and to each other, computer work, and often, an hour of viewing a segment of BBC’s “Blue Planet”. Our book for reading to each other is “Not One Drop: Betrayal and Courage in the Wake of the Exxon Valdez Oil Spill,” by longtime friend Riki Ott, on the travails of Cordova, Alaska, following the 1989 spill. A great read, a very sad, angering tale made all the more vivid by last June’s nine-day sea kayak trip in Prince William Sound and subsequent two-day visit to Cordova, with Riki as our guide. Oil and pipeline company post-spill behaviors were totally reprehensible and unconscionable; it is hard to believe how any ethical executive could have behaved so badly. Regarding the Blue Planet, for those who haven’t seen this series featuring different regions of the ocean it is truly spectacular. The photography is amazing and the exotic sea creatures introduce us to a little known part of the world. At 10 PM ship’s time we hit the hay, though for eight days west-bound we set watches back one hour at bed-time and ahead one hour on the east-bound trip. Thus 8-9 hours of sleep going west, and less going east.
Oakland to Busan (S. Korea, 12 days, 5170 nautical miles, and the ship’s 41st crossing westbound). We arrived by taxi to the Oakland terminal at 5:30 PM for a planned 6 PM ship arrival. The ship came an hour later and we boarded about 8:30, thus providing us a three-hour opportunity to observe, outside the terminal gate and sitting on our luggage, the comings and goings of the stevedores. Interesting people-watching but no we have no need to repeat the experience. We were up early for our 6 AM departure on July 20th; clear weather followed by fog under the Golden Gate Bridge. Our crossing the Pacific “pond” to Pusan went well, arching north to just below the Aleutians to follow a great circle route. The original plan was to pierce the Aleutians near the base of Alaska and then again going south near the end of the islands but a low pressure system to the north led the captain to choose a somewhat more southerly route. We had clouds all the way but a reasonably calm sea.
We were delighted to be invited to the bridge at times of entering and leaving port. Our first experience was from 9 to 11 PM, entering Pusan. We picked up the pilot at 10 PM, slowing to 10 knots so the pilot vessel could come up on our lee, downwind side. Up on the bridge all was dark, with low level lighting on the large radar and chart plotter screens. The pilot would give his steering and speed commands, these would be repeated by the helmsman (or engine room), and on occasion the captain would raise polite questions or modify the commands slightly. The pilots are generalists in all kinds of ships and specialists in none so may not be aware of the maneuvering characteristics of the specific ship now under command. The captain retains final authority and we were advised that at times pilot performance can be rather questionable. Our pilot on this first port (and indeed all subsequent pilots) was very professional, conversation was solely focused on operations, and 4-5 persons were on the bridge. One crew member had the job of going back and forth from the darkened portion of the bridge, where night vision was essential. to the chart table where the harbor charts were displayed under light. It reminded me of the so-called “dirty” nurse in an OR who is not in sterile gown and gloves and hence can fetch new supplies and equipment. As a side note, the infamous Cosco Busan that collided with the San Francisco Bay Bridge, had been owned by the Conti company but was sold two weeks prior to the incident. Apparently there was a short period when there was legal uncertainty as to whether all the relevant documents had been duly processed and if not, then the potential liability of Conti for the damage. With US authorities holding the hapless American pilot primarily responsible for the collision a new chapter in maritime law may be in the making. Up to that time the ship’s captain (and his employer and/or ship owner) is always the responsible party.
A short time later we picked up a tug on our port quarter and proceeded dead slow at 4-5 knots into the brightly lit harbor. We gradually rotated ~130 degrees at which point the tug pushed the stern toward the dock while the bowthruster pushed the bow. The last few meters went very slow since we were trying to compress the water, caught between the 1000' ship and the dock, the water was slow in moving out at ends and underneath the hull.
Watching the unloading / unloading was fascinating. The dockyard is huge, probably several miles long and close to a mile deep, filled to the gills with containers and the large yellow cranes that move back and forth on rails. The yellow storage yard cranes were small potatoes, however, compared to the dockside gantry cranes, rated at up to 100-ton capacity. The operators, higher than our ship, zip back and forth in their glass modules raising, lowering and positioning the containers. It takes a short 90 seconds to make the 400' round trip from lifting a box off a truck, depositing the box in the cargo hold, and back to lifting the next box off a truck. The operators were masters at multitasking – concurrently moving laterally and up or down, stopping/starting at precisely the proper location to insert their lifting unit into the lifting slots or to put the box on a flatbed trailer. The lifting unit could even attach and move two 20' boxes at the same time and also remove/replace the very heavy 40' x 40' hatch cover, inserting it precisely between a stack of boxes that surrounded the area on all four sides. We were informed that in some ports gantries can handle simultaneously two separate box lifters, with one operator controlling both; an extreme example of multitasking! They are apparently well compensated for their talents, with over $200K salaries in high income countries. Impressive coordination and speed but I wouldn’t want to be around when and if a box falls (reportedly almost never).
The port of Pusan (also spelled Busan) was impressive in size and in the variety of activities underway. At least three large dredges deepening the area; lots of barges, some underway with tugs; a large vehicle carrier; other container ships; a brand new oil drilling ship undergoing sea trials; a long pier and cable bridge under construction to an island; inter-island passenger ferries; 17 anchored ships several miles offshore attesting to the effects on trade of the global economic meltdown; several 1000' hills cut in half to increase port space and provide land fill; and lots of little boats shuttling back and forth. We understand the road bridge will drop down to the water and become a tunnel through the deepest channel, this to avoid the risk that if N. Korea invaded the south they could drop a central bridge span (where the tunnel will be) and thus bottle up much of the S. Korean navy. Interesting contingency planning!
Busan to Yantian (China, 3 days, 1151 miles). Three days of steaming south from Pusan we entered the bay off Yantian, a new port just north of Hong Kong. At ~7:30 PM we anchored in an assigned section of the external anchorage along with at least five other large ships and at 2 AM picked up a pilot for the short trip to the quay. Anchoring is an extended process (one clarification: a “shackle” here means about 90’ of chain, marked by red and white painted links): anchor down to just above the water; a long wait until the ship comes to a near standstill; a very loud rattle and roar as several shackle-lengths are dropped, a wait to let the chain settle out; then three more shackles of chain for a total of five “on deck”. Since we anchor in about 60’ of water with the windlass about 30’ above the waterline, we have a total of 4:1 ratio, depth to length. All sailors will recognize this as a good minimum “scope,” with the optimum in challenging conditions being about 7:1.
We slept through the trip to the quay but awoke to another huge cargo port. The cargo handling area measured perhaps five miles in an “L” shape and was up to half a mile deep, absolutely chock-a-block filled with containers of all colors and brands in multi-box stacks. Numerous mobile box movers shuttled around the storage area and flatbed trucks lining up to receive boxes filled our foreground. Our section had 60 gantry cranes and three ships being served; another section had at least 30 cranes and more ships. Behind the cargo areas were large apartment buildings and a parade of hills partially cut away to accommodate more projects and provide landfill. The whole port is quite new, constructed in 12 years. Hong Kong and Shanghai still have larger capacities but the recent need to add this port attests to the growing volume of trade between China and the rest of the world.
Our ship was served by six gantries and for the first time we could see below the hatch covers into the bottom of the hold, six boxes down. According to the loading chart we unloaded 1853 boxes weighing 8468 tons and loaded 787 boxes weighing 8367 tons for four destinations ending in Seattle. With an average weight per offloaded box of 4.6 tons and per loaded box of 10.6 tons we had carried empty boxes to Yantian. With a potential total of seven gantry cranes working, a conservative two minutes per 2-TEU 40' box per gantry (assuming that the ground crews had the trucks in place without delay; not so today), it would take ~18 hours to completely unload our 7500-TEU capacity, but that situation would be a rarity. Some cranes started loading boxes by late morning and our departure time is scheduled for 11 PM.
With encouragement from the captain and first mate we made our first short excursion, leaving the ship at 4:25 PM and returning just after 8. We were accompanied by three other crew members. The port shuttle bus took us via a long winding route through the mountains of boxes stacked six high to the gate where immigration officials tried to figure out which of the strange characters were our names, and then copy them onto their list. In town we were deposited at a large combination grocery, electronic and dry goods store next to a KFC emporium. Our driver, with very limited English, walked with us several blocks to a high-end restaurant and showed us the fish tanks where we could select our dinner. We couldn’t bear looking an exotic fish in the eye and condemning it to death so we selected the large prawns. Much linguistic struggle ensued trying to sort out how many, how much, how cooked and what accompanying vegetables and drinks. The first “price” was $90, to which we howled and finally after trimming quantities, we escaped at $70 and too much food remaining on the table. We were first in the restaurant at 5 PM but by the time we left, the joint was jumping. The next two hours were spent leisurely checking out the shops, resisting the entreaties of the many salespeople standing in the doorways, and sitting in a nice park people- and kiddy-watching. We made it back to the ship’s gangway at 8:20 for the steep 56-step climb up to the bottom deck. We hit the sack at 10 while they were still working the gantries. Loading was finished at midnight but the pilot arrived an hour late and we were underway at 1:06 AM.
Yantian to Kaohsiung (south end of Taiwan, one day, 334 miles). We awoke at 6 to pitching and rolling; not much compared to a small boat but a lot more than up to now. Strong wind off the starboard bow, swells, and occasional rain squalls. The ship was making 24 knots at 95 rpm, making up for lost time in Yantian. Great to know we are really on an ocean after the near mill pond crossings we’ve had up to now. At ~5 PM we picked up the pilot, picked our way through ~34 anchored ships (more evidence of the downturn in shipping), entered between two long projecting breakwaters, and into the several mile-long cargo port with over 100 berths and ~15 ships moored to the wharf. With the aid of our ~3500 h.p. bowthruster and tug we were neatly slotted into the Hanjin wharf between two large container ships, with only ~60' clearance at each end. Four gantries started their work and instead of flatbed trucks, 8-wheeled self-propelled lifts came in to pick up the boxes and trundle them off to a temporary resting place. The units were tired and soot-covered compared to previous ports but seemed to work well. Though slower than trucks they could stack the boxes up to three high without help from other equipment.
Armed with passports and temporary ‘seaman visas’ we descended the gangway and in the company of a pleasant lady ‘ship chandler’, went into town. She explained her role was to purchase and deliver to the wharf food and other provisions needed by ships when they came to harbor. She assured me that among the supplies were two kilos of raisins to keep me happy; I had quickly depleted the limited supply on board from our last provisioning at Oakland. We proceeded out through the large cargo yard by electric golf card, through the gate and police check, and by taxi and in the company of legions of scooters, to downtown and the new “Dream Mall.”
The Dream Mall was an experience! Huge, at least 9 stories high, multi-color radiating spokes of light emanating from a building that must have occupied several blocks, it was a shopper’s delight or debtor’s nightmare. Marble floors, classical music on a high quality sound system, and ‘carriage trade’ stores selling everything from museum pieces to designer clothes to fur coats (in this tropical climate, no less) on the lower levels. As we rose progressively higher via the escalators we passed through mid-price range stores until eventually, gasping for oxygen, we came to McDonalds, ToysRus, kiddie gear, and items for the budget-minded. But all was first rate, high class, and made for good people watching and window shopping. We managed to avoid any purchases (aided by the absence of local currency or language), and were whisked back at 9:15 by taxi right to the gangway of our nautical home. With only $20 bills available we left the driver happy with a single twenty for what was probably a $5-6 ride. Liz was able to call her niece, Lucy Hornby, who works as a Reuters correspondent in Beijing. Lucy was our first and likely only contact with family during this trip. After an hour of reading we hit the hay, with the gantries doing their box dance forward and aft.
Up at 6 AM and on the bridge at 6:30 to observe our departure in rain and light fog. With tug and thruster we turned 90 degrees mid-channel and headed out dead slow (4-5 knots) through the narrow entrance and the many anchored ships. The pilot descended the long gangway and made the difficult jump over to the pilot boat. This transition is difficult and a significant risk for pilots. The transfer is made at 8-10 knots, much easier when both boats are under way, but even so the asynchronous rolls and pitches of the two very unequal vessels, the lack of good handholds, and the threat of falling between the two boats, make for problems. It is challenging enough under good conditions but try making the transfer at night, in dense fog, with strong winds, big seas, and rain, snow and/or sleet, and you get the picture. As the pilots get on in years agility goes down and risks go up!
Within several hours of leaving port we were cruising along under clear skies with hardly a ripple on the seas. In the absence of wind we make our own ‘wind’ and depending on our location in the ship’s superstructure, either have no wind or we are practically blown off our feet. At our 20-knot cruising speed we are guaranteed a brisk wind in open locations.
Having left many empty boxes in port we are now quite light, riding high in the water and with at least eight hatch covers totally exposed, including the aft ‘basketball’ court. The first mate loaded a compensatory 6800 tons of water ballast (each pump transfers 900 tons/hour) but the lack of much weight above the hatches results in a bottom-heavy ship and a faster, more abrupt roll rate. The ship is designed to carry a lot of above hatch weight (its cargo payload) and this slows down the roll rate. A slower roll rate produces less strain on box lashings and is definitely better in stormy seas. Also, as a result of our light weight we can sense propeller thrust in tune with our 84 rpm, not so apparent when we have a mountain of boxes before us. All this will change when we load more boxes in Shanghai.
We watched another section of the Blue Planet series in the evening and enjoyed our starboard cabin overlooking silvery seas lit up by a near full moon.
Kaohsiung to Shanghai (China, 2 days, 651 miles). At sea until about 11 AM when we dropped the anchor, well off from Shanghai and out of sight of land. Anchoring in a seaway leads to significant rocking and rolling, interspersed with occasional sharp and strong shudders (think of a Richter 5 earthquake!) as a rising wave hits the descending broad upturned stern. Additional excitement: typhoon “Morakot” is afoot in the S. China Sea and headed NNE, somewhat our way. With winds to 80 knots, a central low of 970 mb (1012 is ‘normal’), and a radius of 300 kms of substantial winds, it is something to keep in mind. The ship receives all the latest weather reports with graphic displays showing wind speed, direction, wave heights (30-40' at the center), and predicted direction complete with probabilities over the next several days. So far, no problem, but if the typhoon veered further north we’d likely have to pour on the coal, correction, oil, and head to sea. With a speed up to 25 knots we can out-run most weather though this necessity would really foul up our schedule. Neither the ship’s crew nor the port captain would like to have large ships in port in a typhoon; the dock areas could soon be become shambles and some of the ships sunk or damaged colliding with others. (A memory: Years ago, when consulting in Manila, a typhoon passed right over my hotel. I spent two hours wringing out towels put along my leaky window sills as the wind blew from left to right, 20 minutes enjoying the calm “eye” of the storm, and then two hours of more towels while the wind blew from right to left. When I went out to survey the damage, 6" of water in the streets and 11 cargo ships high and dry on the beach. Beware of typhoons!)
Liz and I started our afternoon “constitutional”, walking around the deck while still in the anchored, rock and roll mode. On coming to the bow we found the second mate, bosun and an AB starting to raise the anchor. We stayed for the next half hour watching the full process, slow, complicated and challenging. Though the wind was fairly strong the ship lay almost crosswise to the wind. The anchor windlass is driven by a powerful electric motor but if subject to an excessive and prolonged strain, it can go kaput. As the mate explained, this would be the end of his job. Accordingly, the ship had to intermittently use its main engine to ease the strain on the chain and use the bowthruster to swing our position more into the wind. All the time the AB kept a high powered fire hose stream of water on the anchor chain to remove mud. The bosun, responding to hand signals from the mate, would operate the windlass for a few minutes and then stop for a bit to allow the windlass motor to cool and the ship to re-position itself. To pull in our five shackles (~450') of chain, took over 30 minutes. At full speed the windlass can bring in <20' of chain in a minute. At an “aha” moment I suddenly saw the analogy between anchoring and sex. Lowering the anchor is easy, fast, few skills are required, and it is accompanied by much noise, commotion and vibrations. Raising the anchor is a slow, risky process that requires care, skills and patience, a perfect mirror to the ease of having sex and the challenge of bearing then bringing up the child. After the anchor was secure we continued our circuits, completing about 7000' of walking and the ship proceeded to the pilot pickup point, 60 miles from Shanghai.
After a quick supper we went to the bridge for the entrance to Shanghai. Two pilots (one was an apprentice) were on board for the long and tortuous trip to the harbor. We proceeded at reduced speed into the increasing gloom of a smoggy evening to enter what our captain characterized is a mariner’s nightmare. Ships all around (I counted at least 50 under way at 10 PM), by now dark, and the flood tide moving fast. The entrance to the Yangtze River, one of the largest in China, is a major maritime highway. With huge amounts of silt coming down from the interior the river is totally brown and in need of constant dredging. The channel is miles long, narrow (~1000' wide for both in- and out-bound traffic), and is marked with red and green lights, each with its own ID code. The channel ‘guarantees’ a depth of only 10+ meters and since in our light condition we were drawing almost this amount, we went in on the flood tide. Traffic tonight was relatively light and we had no close calls but we were told this was the exception. With the aid of a tug and bowthruster we reversed direction and then with our bow angled about 15o toward the quay and intermittent engine help, we maintained our position relative to shore while going sideways. As a former whitewater canoeist I immediately recalled doing the same in rivers, the so-called “upstream ferry.” By keeping the bow of my canoe angled toward shore, and paddling against the oncoming water, I could easily go from one side of the river to the other.
By 11:15 we were moored to the quay, the gantries started getting into position, and Liz and I hit the sack.
Shanghai to Kwangyang (S. Korea, 2 days, 444 miles). With four gantries operating all night and morning we dropped our lines in Shanghai at 11 AM and with the aid of tug and bowthruster, eased out into the melee. What a yellow, silt-laden river, and for at least 100 miles out! We were advised that the ship was loath to take on any ballast water lest the silt and sand settle in the tanks, never again to be pumped overboard. Out on the bridge-wing and with a 360 degree look-around I was able to count at least 136 boats underway at the same time – all sizes, shapes, cargos and conditions, plus many more moored or at anchor. They seemed to be traveling in almost as many different directions, too. After a 60-mile trip out through all the traffic we left the pilot off at a large pilot ship with overnight accommodations and better able to withstand bad weather than the more usual small vessels. Our departure from Shanghai was just in time; hours later they totally closed the port, in or out, in anticipation of the strong typhoon then spinning up from the Taiwan area. If we had been caught by the closure it would have wreaked havoc with our schedule and the captain would have acquired an ulcer and/or grey hairs. But, out we were, headed north and east, away from trouble, at a high speed of 24 knots to make up for some lost time in Shanghai.
The wind during the afternoon and evening was from dead ahead at ~25 knots so the over-the-deck wind speed was an impressive 55 knots. As noted earlier, in windy conditions at sea Liz and I now put our hand out first before rounding a corner to test the wind force. At 55 knots it can hit the full body with quite some force.
As the afternoon advanced the swells got larger and the roll increased. We started our 4 PM stroll around the deck but after a few wind blasts and rolls, retreated to our cabin. During the evening the roll finally got to the point where most everything ended up on the floor (including some 20 loose grapes that whizzed back and forth), Liz was knocked out of her chair, and we battened down all the chairs with their safety straps. The chief mate later reported that the biggest roll was ~20 degrees, not a big deal by sailboat standards but with our location 100+ feet above the water, the swing is magnified and makes for ‘interesting’ walking patterns. One moment you feel light as a feather speeding downhill and the next, carrying a heavy load (yourself) up hill. And if following Liz while walking the deck, for some not too mysterious reason we both move simultaneously to the left and to the right, as if in perfect coordinated step. We learned later that a minor course change was made to ease the rolls.
We awaken to calm seas and proceed expeditiously to the entrance to the port of Kwangyang. This is a lovely location, a deep indentation near the southern tip of Korea, with steep hills all around. We pick up the pilot and proceed at 15 knots until near the tanker terminal. We watch a mammoth tanker being eased into the terminal by five tugs. It is 100' longer than we are and sits 30' lower (~60' draft). Further in we pass a huge steel mill, perhaps the largest in Asia, that processes both iron ore and scrap iron. Several bulk ore carriers are being unloaded and large piles of scrap iron await their turn at the smelters. Next we pass a very large building that can accommodate a medium-sized ship for the loading and unloading of wood chips and other products that cannot risk exposure to rain. At last our container terminal, followed a bit further inland by the car ship terminal and long lines of cars awaiting loading. By 11:30 we are tied up and ready for the gantry cranes to do their work.
Our stay here was short and with little to see in the city, we stay aboard. Curiously, even though no one wants or needs to go ashore, a nice lady came on board, the entire crew and passengers are summoned, and we all lined up to have our temperature taken. The lady touched a heat sensor to our foreheads for several seconds; no pain and no high temps. We all passed but woe be if anyone had a fever. S. Korea apparently is concerned about swine flu and since a single elevated temperature tells you nothing about the cause, they might have to quarantine or expel the ship, including I presume the nice Korean lady. If she had detected a fever she would now be ‘exposed’ and hence obliged to stay with us. Though I’m in the fields of medicine and public health the mysteries of effective disease transmission procedures can still baffle me.
Since we have only a small amount of cargo to load the gantries don’t start their work for more than an hour and soon we are ready to depart. A tug gives us an assist, we turn around and within an hour are out to sea. This is clearly an industrial town what with the iron foundry, huge tank farm and terminal, a large and diverse port facility, and many clustered high-rise apartment buildings for those who work here. Perhaps the ultimate ignominy is the lack of any entry on the city in the South Korea guidebook but its omission notwithstanding, the port is among the most scenic we have visited.
Kwangyang to Busan (S. Korea, half-day, 105 miles). We awoke at the dock in Pusan, spelled with a “P” in many maps but with a “B” in the actual city. The captain, ever attentive to our interests in a shore excursion, arranged for Hanjin’s Busan agent, Mr. S.I. Shin, to pick us up at 9 a.m. for the 50-minute drive to the center of town. The first half of the trip we passed through extensive new port, housing, bridge and highway projects, interspersed with paddies and then leading into the usual big city traffic and shops. We were dropped near the fish market alongside the inner harbor and were fascinated by the huge variety of live and dead fish on display. Most were varieties we had never seen before and included octupii climbing out of their tubs, eels of various lengths, and silvery fish hardly bigger than elongated peanuts. There were many lunchrooms with dining tables inserted between fish tanks and where customers could pick out the live fish of their choice for their delectation. The large volume of fish on display made us wonder how the market could “clear” by the end of the day without a lot of fish left over. The market was adjacent to the wharf and we returned to our starting point by checking out the rust-bucket ships moored alongside. Their condition was in very sharp contrast to the excellent physical and very clean condition of the Hanjin Boston. Most were 80-100' trawlers with huge scoops at the stern that were dragged along the ocean bottom, scraping up everything, desired and undesired, into nets, and in the process destroying the natural underwater architecture. We had viewed several nights before a segment on the “Blue Planet” DVD about the effects of trawling and they are not pretty.
After leaving the fish market we wandered through the narrow, winding streets, most stores open on Sunday, and up toward Tower Hill, a lovely park overlooking the city and capped – big surprise! - with a tower at the top. On the way up we happened on the Busan Modern History Museum and spent an informative hour viewing several floors of attractive exhibits. It covered Busan’s history since the early 1800s and most of the displays had explanations in English as well as Korean. The one overpowering impression was that of a city and people who had no kind things to say about the Japanese. Nearly every display recounted the effects of the Japanese occupation, turning Korea into a vassal land available for exploitation. Korea was expected to provide low cost rice and other agricultural products to Japan (by paying very little to Korean tenant farmers) and in return, import Japanese manufactured products. Japanese farmers were sent to Korea and took over the best lands, Korean manufactures were discouraged, Japanese administrators rode roughshod over the locals. During WW II, Korea supplied products to help the Japanese war effort, men for Japan’s army, and women for the pleasure of Japanese soldiers. I would not have liked to be a Japanese visitor to the museum.
We topped the hill, took pictures and then back down in time to meet Mr. Shin at 1 PM for the trip to the ship. Back on board we met the new first mate, Dennis Bachmann, who is replacing Alexander Herold, who heads home to Germany after his five-month tour on board. We also were glad to meet and become acquainted with Steve Thenell, a new passenger who will join us on a one-way trip to Long Beach. He had just finished five years of teaching English in two Japanese high schools.
We left precisely at 3 PM and were soon out of the harbor for our last long trip across the Pacific. By latter afternoon the wind had picked up to Beaufort Force Six (22-27 knots), with numerous whitecaps, and though the seas were building they came from nearly straight ahead and hence caused little roll. Liz and I read more of the travails of Cordova and Riki in the post-Exxon Valdez spill and then an hour of DVD on diving with sharks off Cocos Island.
Busan to Long Beach (11 days; 5507 miles, the ship’s 42nd crossing eastbound). We climbed to the bridge as usual for our departure from Pusan. The number of boxes loaded was not very great. Shortly after leaving the breakwater we dropped the pilot and soon land was out of sight for the long trip back. The first few days provided the usual cloud cover and a fair amount of dense fog but then we were blessed with several days of clear skies and bright sunshine. We took our chairs out on the deck, donned shades, applied sun screen, and enjoyed our low cost, limited amenity cruise ship. Standard weather for the North Pacific in summer is clouds and quite a bit of fog so this treat was unusual. The captain further blessed us by noting a pod of whales and we zoomed up to the bridge to admire the spouts, again an unusual sighting. On other days we saw small groups of tuna sprinting away from the ship and an occasional seabird soaring the waves. For the most part we observed our standard routine; laptop work in the mornings (Liz got lots of help troubleshooting her use of DreamWeaver to upgrade our www.bikenfly.org website) from Steve, our new passenger); reading, exercises and around-the-ship strolls in the afternoons; and post-supper reading Riki Ott’s book to each other, Liz’s crossword puzzles, Tom’s Univ. of Michigan iTouch physics lessons, and perhaps a DVD. We visited the bridge several times a day and the chief engineer gave us another very informative trip through the many sections of the engine room, including side-trips to the totally enclosed under-deck passageway that circles the entire ship, the access door for the pilot, and the four big electric steering motors that drive four hydraulic pistons. In normal cruising only one steering motor is necessary and in harbors two motors are used in case one should fail. It is good to have this redundancy since given the size of the steering column and rudder there is no way to provide manual backup.
August 13, on the Asian side of the dateline at 179.56" degrees East, and all three of us are on the bridge watching and filming the GPS as it flips over to 179.57 degrees West. We are south of the mid-Aleutian island chain at about 49.41 degrees north, near the Vancouver, Canada, level. And now for another August 13 as we cross the dateline.
August 14, my 78th birthday, and completion of another circuit of the sun for me. A day of moderate wind and gradually increasing rolling, though nothing significant. Well wishes from the crew and a lovely present of a photo of our ship and signatures from all the crew.
August 15, 48.27 north (Seattle latitude) and 158.12 west, below the start of the Aleutians. We are now in a low pressure area, wind is in the 30-knot range, seas 9-12', lots of rain, and moderate rolling on a 20-second cycle. Better weather ahead.
On August 17, a clear blue and white day with a light 12-knot breeze and no white caps or swells. The engine was shut off a 8 AM for about 10 hours since we were ahead of schedule for our Long Beach arrival. Curiously, the engine cannot be slowed for an extended period of time below its normal cruise rate of 84 rpm. This is frustrating for both the captain and the charterer but the engine manufacturer is very clear; you risk major damage at, say, 70 rpm maintained over many hours. The charterer has an exacting schedule with promises to shippers that if their goods are in the port by a specific time, they will be picked up the next day. Thus it is good to build into the schedule some extra time in case the ship is slowed by weather or a route deviation. But with an engine that is happy with only one speed, periodic drifting can be the result. Today we are drifting at 0.7 knots to the SE and lo and behold, when Liz checked after the ship’s engine was re-started, we had drifted 7 miles in about 10 hours.
I visited the bridge at midnight. After my eyes were dark-adjusted I went to the bridge-wing and enjoyed the wonderful world of stars. On our 1984 Seattle-to-New Zealand sailing trip Liz and I had at least 50 nights each of night watch under a star-filled sky but we have rarely had a chance to revel in this wonder ever since. In Alaska the summer nights never get dark, and in San Francisco, no way; light pollution, cloud and fog cover.
August 18, Winds to 30 knots from the north while we head east; result, lots of white caps and moderate rolling. A good day to make progress on our laptop projects and in the afternoon, lots of fun doing our daily deck walk. When the wind is up we spend most time on the lee side but enjoy venturing out to the windy areas on the bow and open stern. Our wake to windward leads to peaked waves with foam blowing off the tops and astern we see the heaves of sea swells in our wake.
August 19, cloudy, hazy and calm. Entering US ports requires additional measures, all carefully noted in the ship’s log book and in some cases, by automatic printer. At 10:30 AM we were invited to the bridge to participate in the “preparation for entering America waters” experience. The previous day a repeat stowaway (and bomb) search was carried out, first one having been carried out on departure from Pusan, and the ship exchanged Asian ballast water with ‘fresh’ North American water to minimize the transport of exotic marine life. Today, now some 80 miles from the N. California coast, we did the “loss of steering gear trial,” “demonstration of bridge-wing controls,” and “demonstration of reverse propulsion.” The steering gear has four large electric motors driving as many pistons, only one of which is sufficient for normal steering. With the chief engineer and others down in the aft steering gear room the command link from the bridge was disconnected and those by the motors demonstrated their ability to independently steer. Our snake-like course was duly observed behind and recorded on the chart plotter. Meanwhile the engine was slowed down very gradually from 84 to 65 rpm to avoid damage, after which engine rpms can be dropped more quickly. It took almost 30 minutes to drop from 20 to 5 knots, at which point the engine was stopped, restarted in reverse, and in five more minutes we were dead in the water. Engine speeds were all recorded automatically at short intervals, good evidence if requested by port authorities. Lastly, the effects of the bridge-wing engine and steering controls were demonstrated and logged. A bulk carrier, several miles away, probably also doing its pre-USA ‘ritual,’ radioed us to learn of our intentions. As a result of our tests we had varied our direction and speed and were now heading in their direction.
August 20, up at 4:35 AM, on the bridge shortly thereafter in time to see the pilot aboard. We stayed on the bridge until 6:30 docking, and then down to the ship’s office to clear immigration and customs (at least six officials were there). All the crew were checked, one by one, and then the three of us passengers. Brief questions, a glace at our passport (held in safe keeping by the captain), and then to breakfast. We were told to empty our pockets (which we did) and put the contents on the floor (which we didn’t), but otherwise no search was made of us. However, by norm a search is made of the cabins of several of the crew, chosen at random, so off went the bosun and some others with blue-gloved officials in tow to see what they had on board. By the nature of their job the immigration/customs officials are expected to be suspicious of everyone, and perhaps more so of those who don’t look suspicious. This in turn leads us, crew and passengers, to feel rather nervous, and almost guilty, even when there is no justification for such feelings. An unhappy consequence of managing borders and people.
A fuel barge was ushered along our seaboard side by two tugs. We watched as the barge crew fitted an extension on the very large diameter hose so that it could be hoisted up about 60' to the location of eight different liquid connections. Two cranes did the lifting, one on the barge, the other on the ship, and then the hose was connected, complete with a new gasket, to the ship. The chief engineer later reported that he was unhappy with the relatively slow transfer rate of ‘only’ 600 tons of oil per hour vs. a hose capacity of 900 tons. With a total tank capacity of 10,200 tons, fill ups at the pump can take some time.
At noon we were surprised to hear two American voices in the lunch room. Inspectors from Lloyds (in Germany) and another German company charged with doing the annual equipment inspection. At this time all the safety, electronic, hoisting, and other categories of essential equipment are checked and certified. At the last minute the planned underwater hull inspection was postponed. This inspection involves divers carrying out an inspection, backed up with a video-filming of the entire hull to look for evidence of hazardous corrosion, grounding, and damage to the propeller or rudder. This “light” inspection is required annually and Long Beach is a good location since we are here for several days and there is good access to technicians, parts and replacements. Every five years the ship is dry-docked and more detailed maintenance carried out. Hanjin Boston’s turn is next year.
August 21. We awoke to find an almost naked ship; all forward hatch covers removed and most of the holds empty. What a vast change in appearance. Also, with our stern loaded with engine, boxes and us, that left our bow high and a definite fore-aft slope to the vessel. The gantry cranes had been working all night but in the absence of any noise and only an occasional Richter 3 shake of the vessel due to abrupt box handling, we were unaware of their efforts.
We spend the day aboard working on our laptops. No interest in shopping, L.A. is far away and San Francisco is better, and Tom had seen the HMS Queen Mary (Hotel) years earlier. The gantries work all day except for meal breaks so our exercise today is vertical, several up/down trips on the eight decks. When the containers are whizzing by overhead and stevedores are aboard we can’t make our usual deck excursions. Occasionally we note significant differences in gantry operator skills. Some drop the container precisely between the guide slots into the hold, others bang and bash, back and forth, before they find the slot. Liz finally couldn’t stand watching the unskilled or careless performance of one gantry operator. And shortly after hearing a big crash sound emanating from the nearest gantry we saw the operator descend in his elevator (whether on break or disgusted with his performance or equipment, or fired, we don’t know.) We wonder about the systems for training, monitoring and supervising these critical and highly skilled personnel. Our captain said that ships and boxes can suffer significant damage from the load/unload process. When this happens, more complaints filed, documentation to prepare, and hassles with dock administrators over who is responsible and who pays.
Long Beach to Oakland (one day, 372 miles). August 22, our last day aboard. The gantries were raised and idle, we were light loaded with only 26,436 tons of cargo, and at 68,825 tons of displacement, now some ~55,000 tons under our capacity. We left with lots of room for more boxes, likely most of them empty, from Oakland and Seattle. Up to the bridge at 5:50 AM, pilot on board at 6 and underway at 6:10. As we ease out of the harbor we pass two military freighters, two “Sea Launch” purpose-built vessels for launching and/or monitoring missiles, and then a seemingly inexhaustible supply of container boxes, container trains and support vessels. We pass close by an even bigger containership inbound and soon the forest of gantry cranes and docks recede in the distance. We are now on diesel fuel, not bunker oil, and must not exceed 12 knots for about 40 miles, California regulations to reduce ship exhaust pollution. After that the ship gradually added rpms at the rate of 1.5 rpms/hour, starting from a mid-range rate up to cruising rate of 84 rpms. The engineering staff had replaced the rings on one cylinder of the engine and they started out with lower power settings until the rings were ‘broken in;’ amazing what they can do with such a large engine.
We made a last several rounds of the ship, reflected at our long wake and fine trip, and already started mutterings about a possible future trip. We now have calm seas ahead, the California coastline to starboard, and a scheduled 5 AM San Francisco pilot station pickup for tomorrow. Sadly, we’ll miss passing under the Golden Gate Bridge in the daylight but even in daylight it could be fog.
August 23. Up at 4:45 AM, on the bridge, the pilot already on board. We proceeded in the dark until the Golden Gate Bridge, when the very first signs of dawn appeared to the east. A sailboat was dead ahead, shining a light on its sail to make its presence known (radars don’t always pick up small fiberglass boats) under the bridge, a strong ebb tide with an eddy pushing us to starboard, rudder partially to port to compensate, under the center of the bridge with the sailboat now off to port, and anxious moments passed. The weekends are normally filled with boats but at 6 AM on a cloudy morning, that sailor must be nuts! We acquired two tugs, one on the port bow and the other astern, soon to act as the a “brake” once we enter the Oakland marine terminal area. In this capacity the tug is towed by our ship, with the tug’s engine in reverse, slowing us down from 8 to 4 knots. Otherwise we would be obliged to intermittently shut down our engine and risk depleting excessively our compressed air supply that is used for starting. As an interesting aside, while setting up the arrangement the pilot checked on the tug’s potential bollard pull, was informed that it was 70 tons, and then checked on the rated capacity of the stern hawsehole through which the tug-ship line would be passed; answer, 40 tons. Alas, the fine points of getting your ”pull” sorted out.
Thus we proceeded under the Bay Bridge, entered the several-mile Oakland terminal canal, passed Hanjin’s ‘linemen’ waiting for our ship, passed a dredge and an equally large containership being pushed to the wharf, and a bulk cargo ship being loaded with a million dollars’ worth of scrap iron and steel bound for Asia to come back as new products, up to the turning basin. We could see our stimulus tax dollars at work; much of the scrap was chewed up cars, cash for clunkers. The basin was only about 300’ longer than our ship so the turn was slow and very careful. Finally, up to our wharf where we heard the latest joke about shore linemen that puts the ship pilot community into guffaws. Wharf linemen receive the heavy lines from the ship and fasten it to bollards, a short, low tech but vital job. It went this way: two linemen were waiting for their ship. One notes a snail behind him, turns around, and squashes it with his foot. The other says, “Why did you do that; it wasn’t causing you any problems?” The other replies, “I couldn’t take it any more; the snail was following me all day!” We can appreciate the frustrations of waiting hours on a cold (or hot) wharf for a slow-moving ship, for a 10-minute job.
So, that’s it! A last breakfast, a warm goodbye to the captain, a hurried descent with our bags down the 56 gangway steps to the shuttle, and a delightful 20-minute chat with the security guard while we waited for a taxi. We learned a bundle about the challenges of terminal security in the age of 9/11, and then another bundle about the trials and tribulations of the newspaper business from our taxi driver, a long-time former photographer for the San Francisco Chronicle. But we’ll save these tales for another day.