June 7, 2012

Journal notes:

• "This is the life of a seaman.  You must always wait." - Captain Crisan
• Spend the day anchored in the bay in Colon, Panama
• Hull cleaning operations
• Bunkering (refueling)

Pictures:

Divers suiting up to clean the hull

Ships anchored outside Colon

More ships

Refueling tanker

Preparing for bunkering

The Bahia Castillo - also bound for Australia

Nighttime bunkering

Colon

Colon

This is what's at the very top of the ship, above the bridge

Manzanillo harbor

Entrance to the Panama Canal

Video:

Bunkering operations

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


I awaken at 0455.  I had left my phone on in Jamaica, and it beeps with a text message from T-Mobile, warning me that international data roaming is expensive.  I dress in yesterday's clothes, fix a cup of instant coffee from the salon, and make my way up to the starboard bridge deck to witness our approach to Colon.  There are lots of ships waiting to enter the canal.  Off in the distance, I see a little bit of lightning, but I don't hear any thunder.

I am outside for probably half an hour before the captain opens the door and invites me inside.  I watch the sun rise over Panama.  I find a chair and do my best to stay out of the way.  The captain and chief officer are on the bridge.  The captain radios to "control signal" to announce our arrival and request instructions.  We are ordered to come to anchor 6 miles offshore and await further instructions.  The captain calls for an AB seaman to come up and take the helm.  It's difficult to hear what's going on on the ship because there is so much chatter coming in over the radio, with different ships calling to the control station for instructions, or to announce that their pilot is on board.  The control station announces that two ships are coming up the canal, seven miles from breakwater.

Around 0600, we are given our holding position.  The captain orders the helmsman: "Hard to starboard.  Bring us to 310.  Announce our heading every 10 degrees."  The helmsman complies: "Passing 240... 250..." et cetera.  His work finished for the moment, the captain turns to me.  "This is the life of a seaman.  You must always wait."  He smiles, and I hear over the radio, "Clipper Victory, Clipper Victory.  Channel eighty-five.  Eight five."  The bosun phones the bridge, and the chief officer calls another crewman, ordering him to meet the bosun on the forward deck.

At 0630, we are in our holding position.  Harvey wanders aimlessly about the bridge, spotting ships with his binoculars.  The captain shows me a picture of himself with the other officers from his previous voyage, maybe six months ago.  In the picture, they are all wearing their officers' uniforms (today, T-shirts and jeans).  "See how much better I looked then?  I am getting old."  "Where was this taken?" I ask.  "Officers' recreation room, " he answers.  "Yes, but where was the ship?"  He shrugs, grinning as he puts the picture back in its place and returns to his chair.  "At sea."

I stay up on the bridge for a few more minutes.  It is getting warmer, and I am starting to feel a bit ripe, having not yet taken my morning shower.  I excuse myself and, checking my watch, decide to first head to the mess for breakfast - sausage and eggs.  Harvey joins me, pouring himself a bowl of cereal.  He asks me about the sausage, which I describe as "like a hotdog, only smoked."  His interest perked, he orders 1 sausage and 1 fried egg.  I am now feeling quite ripe, and excuse myself once again.  Returning to my cabin, I lay out my clothes for the day - a white button-up shirt and a pair of khaki cargo shorts.  Today, we will cross the Panama canal, and since I expect to be outside during the summer heat, I have chosen to wear clothes made of linen.

After a shower and a shave, I pull up Rosetta Stone on my computer.  The morning's lesson is on pronunciation.  I open the door and Roman enters a few minutes later to do his daily cleaning.  He is intrigued by the software, so I show it off for him.  He asks me if they have an English version.  "Of course, " I answer.  The piece on my headphones which holds the microphone in place breaks when I start to adjust its position.  The mic remains attached, but swinging loosely, and I am reminded of the captain's comment from a few days ago about everything breaking on a ship.

I return to the bridge, taking a few pictures of a small boat alongside us.  I see two men putting on wet suits.  These are the divers hired to clean the ship's hull.  I hear another ship call over the radio that they have a man overboard.  I wonder if it's really an emergency, or if it's just the divers announcing they are in the water.  I hope it's the latter.  Over the intercom, I hear the captain announce that there are divers performing dangerous underwater operations, and orders all equipment to be turned off and prohibits any fishing.  A sign is taped over the control panel, which reads "DANGER: DIVERS AT WORK.  DO NOT TURN PROPELLER."  The captain soon comes up to the bridge, in uniform, with a walkie talkie in his hand, and orders the officer on duty to close the door to the deck outside.

Eric comes up wearing his backpack, sunglasses hanging from his shirt collar.  I greet him, and he asks me if I know how long until we enter the canal.  When I answer that I do not, he steps outside to ask the captain.

The captain steps back onto the bridge and orders the crewman to take down the flag and put up new flags - "first alpha, then yellow, then red."  The pilot boat approaches, and Harvey reads the temperature aloud.  "Twenty-eight point eight five degrees (84 degrees Fahrenheit), and climbing."  Harvey asks me if I've heard how long the cleaning will take.  Eric is on the port side bridge deck, with his big camera, taking pictures of the harbor, and of the crewman changing the flags.  The captain radios for someone.  Getting no answer, he smiles at me and shrugs, then steps out on the starboard deck.  He returns after a few seconds and dials a number on his cell phone, but no one answers.

At 1030, the bridge phone rings.  It is the chief mate, calling for the captain.  The third officer answers that it will be a minute, he is on his cell phone.  A large container vessel passes half a mile to our right, "MSC" painted on its side.  At 1036, the captain radios the boat.  Divers are in the water.  He radios Cristobal Signal to inform them that we have begun hull cleaning operations.  He pauses, seeing me, and laughs that I am writing everything down and so is the 3rd officer.  He then leaves the bridge, instructing the third officer to stay in contact with the divers.  "If they call you, call me."

A voice comes on over the radio.  "One in the water, up and down."  At 1050, all is quiet.  The crewman, Reyante Reusora, asks me if I would like some coffee, which I politely decline.  He asks me if I like karaoke.  I answer that I do, and ask him if he sings.  "No, sir, " he smiles.  "My voice not so good.  If my voice so good, I not be here."  I laugh.  "Fair enough, but what about sea shanties?"  "No, sir.  No sea shanties."

At approximately 1145, the captain returns to the bridge and gives the third officer a verbal reprimand for some issue with the paperwork.  It's none of my business, so I return to my cabin, where I remain until lunch.  Eric is getting cabin fever, I think.  When Harvey mentions that the divers will be working until 1800, he gives serious consideration to swimming ashore, which he guesses couldn't take more than 45 minutes.

The rest of the day moves slowly.  After lunch (pork chops), I venture up to the salon to see if I can get anything on the TV.  There is no antenna hooked up - no luck.  I return to my room and play Warcraft III for a couple hours, then nap until around 1800.

Venturing out onto the deck, I discover that we are still at anchor.  The divers have finished cleaning the hull and a tanker is docking on our port side to refuel us.  As excited I am about this, my heart sinks when I realize there is no chance we will be getting off the ship in Panama.  I shake it off and return to my cabin, grabbing my camera and camcorder, taking pictures and video of the refueling operation, the harbor, and the canal entrance as the sun sets.

Dinner is chicken breast - breaded, butterflied, and pan-fried.  It is very good, as are the vegetables (lots of celery).  We have a sweet bread for dessert, possibly banana bread.  I return to my cabin to download the pictures and videos from today, followed by an hour or so on the treadmill, and another shower.  At 0035 I finish a ring puzzle which the ordinary seaman, Joey Binangbang, gave me yesterday.  I return it to the crew's recreation room and, when I get back up to my cabin, discover that we are now docked at the port in Manzanillo.