June 4, 2012

Journal notes:

• Breakfast is at 0640, not 0600
• See a CMA CGM ship in the morning, and an unidentified ship at night
• Walk around the upper deck
• Meet the chief cook
• Introduce the 3rd Officer to Drive-By Truckers

Pictures:

The Caribbean Sea

The other vessel, which I believe may be the CMA CGM Puget

Zoomed out so you can see the distance from our own ship

Forward-facing view from the aft deck

Pilot access ladder.  This is one of the ways the pilots get on and off the ship

The forecastle (marked F'CLE on the engineering diagram)

Crane #1

Yours truly.  I'm votin' for him

The Caribbean really is this blue

Our wake is turquoise

The other ship we saw at night, from afar

The other vessel we saw at night, zoomed in as good as I could get it.  This is at least 12 km from us

(the full journal entry follows.  If you don't see it on this page, click the "Read more »" link below)



I awaken early for breakfast, which is served at 0640, not 0600, as I had thought.  The clocks on the ship must be networked, because the one in my cabin is already at the correct time even though I have not touched it.  I find this interesting, because it is a dial clock, not a digital display.  However, the hands don't move continuously, but only once every minute, with a distinctive tick, so that while the hour hand sits between the numbers, the minute hand always points to the exact minute.  Being so early, I dine alone.

I am not sure whether the ship has air conditioning or not; the vent in my ceiling is always blowing, but still it is quite warm.  After breakfast, I return to my room and open up the window to get a breeze in, and change from long pants into an old pair of shorts.

The sea is even calmer today than it was yesterday.  The only waves I see breaking this morning are the ones generated in our wake.  About a mile to our starboard, and a little behind us, is another container ship, also with CMA CGM painted on her side.  I can just barely see the red paint of her underbelly; maybe 2 or 3 feet of it sits above the water line.

Around 0800, I visit the bridge, where Bogdan is the officer on duty.  He gives me permission to take his picture, and I go out on the deck (the doors being open) and take some pictures and video.  The third officer soon arrives to relieve the chief officer, and I take his picture as well.  I am given permission to walk around on the upper deck, and walk around the whole of the ship, settling for a shady spot on the starboard side of the bow, where I take several more shots and video, including a couple self-portraits.  Returning to my room, I am pleased to find the air conditioner has been turned on, and it is now much cooler and more tolerable than before.

Prior to my bridge visit, I had stopped at the mess for another cup of coffee.  Although the salon is next door to my cabin, my options there were limited to either fixing a cup of instant coffee, which I don't care much for, or a whole pot of regular, when all I wanted was one cup.  I found Eric (The Frenchman) finishing his breakfast, and he offered me to finish the last cup of coffee from the caraffe on the table.  He greeted me warmly, asked how I slept and if I was planning to eat, to which I responded that I had slept well, but believing breakfast was served at 0600, I had already eaten.  Eric remarked that it was too bad the containers were stacked in front of our cabin windows, blocking our view of the ocean.  Crossing the Atlantic, he'd had a clear view of the sea.  I joked that it would give me a good excuse to go out on deck (referring to the previous day, when I did not go out at all, not having had my orientation yet).

At 1000, I venture downstairs to B deck, to see if there is anyone in the crew's rec room.  Entering the hallway of E deck, my ear catches the sweet sound of opera, playing from Harvey's aft-facing cabin on the opposite end of the hallway.  He is seated at his computer, with his back to the door.  I decide not to disturb him and proceed downstairs, where I meet with the cook, on his way up, cigarette in hand.  He greets me in English and then does a double-take when I return the greeting in his own language.  He stops, taking a sudden interest in me.  "You speak Tagalog?" he asks.  "Maliit, " ("a little") I reply, pinching my thumb and forefinger together in a gesture to make up for my accent, and in case my response is in any way incorrect.  "You visit Philippines before?"  "Nope, " I reply, this time in English, " but I'm learning on the computer."  "On computer.  Yes, " he responds, before we make our separate ways.  Finding the crew's rec room empty, I return to my cabin, again passing the cook on his way down, who jokes that all of the stair climbing is good exercise.

Lunch consists of salad, chicken soup ("Watch out for chicken skins," Harvey warns me), potatoes (either roasted or pan-fried, I can never tell the difference), green beans, and tuna steaks (slightly overcooked).  We pass an island, close enough to see with the naked eye, which Harvey declares to be one of the Bahamas, possibly Rum Key.  Table discussion is focused mainly on politics - particularly in the US, which I can sum up thusly (though it is never openly stated or implied at the table): that we Americans, thinking it barbarous that Roman gladiators could be killed only once, prefer instead to entertain ourselves with the savagery of politics, where a single man can suffer a thousand deaths for our own amusement.

Between lunch and dinner, I nap and study Filipino in the heat of the day, venturing out on deck about 1730.  I first set up a folding chair on E deck outside my cabin, then bring it up to the bridge deck a few minutes later.  Tomorrow, I think I will try out F deck, which offers a forward view even while seated.

Dinner conversation, on the other hand, is sparse.  Our meal consists of beef stew, so thick it is served on the plate rather than in a bowl, which with a little salt and pepper added, I like very much.  Side dishes include green peas and fried rice with vegetables.  Harvey says we will pass Guantanamo Bay tonight.  Eric asks me if I have ever been to Cuba, and I explain to him that it is against the law, that I cannot even buy cigars from there.  According to Harvey, it was a popular resort destination during the Cold War, among those Eastern Europeans who could afford to travel, and that some Canadians still vacation there, including two of his nephews.

Following dinner, I find myself once again on the starboard deck outside the bridge.  John Raniel (the third officer) is officer on duty and joins me for a time, the weather being calm enough for him to do so.  As I have my iPod on me, I remind him about his earlier inquiry about country music, and offer to let him hear a song (he has an AB seaman with him on watch as well).  As it happens, the song that plays is "Love Like This" by Drive-By Truckers which, though it has never made any charts to my knowledge, I would argue is more pure country music than anything Nashville has turned out in the last decade or more.  I wonder if he understands the lyrics, but refrain from asking, not wanting or knowing how to explain Mike Cooley's ironic use of domestic violence in a love song.

Not long after, the 3rd officer spots the lights of another ship on the horizon and, checking the radar, declares it to be 24 miles from us.  I head back inside to get my camera and take several shots upon my return, setting it upon the railing and playing with the zoom, focus, and shutter speed to see if I can get a clear picture.  The ship's vibration prevents me from getting a clear image with the shutter held open for more than about 2 seconds, but I get one worth keeping for all my efforts.  It is too cloudy to get any star pictures, and the moon is far too bright.  The other ship is large, well-lit, and headed eastward, so that she crosses our path, though well in advance of us (30 minutes, by my guess).

In preparation for tomorrow's docking in Kingston, I am asked to provide a list of my belongings and sign for them.  Harvy says he has heard conflicting reports from the crew as to how long we will be in port, ranging anywhere from 2 to 7 hours.  He says the chief officer told him that we had only 8 containers to unload and 19 to bring on board, which should take about 2 hours.  Considering that we must be on the ship within 2 hours of departure, and that it takes some time to get through the red tape at each port, I am doubtful that I will set foot in Jamaica this trip.  If we are able to go ashore, I hope to find 3 items there - some super glue to fix my camera tripod (which I broke in Savannah, about 5 minutes after I took it out of the packaging), a cold beer, and a bottle of aspirin, my legs and hips being sore from last night's excursion on the treadmill, which impeded my nap this afternoon (What luck!  While writing about my want for aspirin, I remembered having a packet containing two tablets in the pocket of my shaving kit.  Perhaps I can get a good night's sleep, after all).