At dinner the previous night the Steward told us he wanted to clean our room the next day at 9am, so we made plans to visit the bridge in the daylight. We are free to visit anytime we like, the Captain just asks that we call up first double check with the duty officer. When we phoned we were pleased to hear the friendly voice of the 2nd Officer.
The morning sun was in full glare, and for our first daylight experience of the bridge the room was bathed in sunlight. We re-familiarised ourselves with the navigation equipment whilst Vicente worked on his maps. For the return voyage the Miami will be going up into the Bering sea. However we were more concerned with how close to California we were. Unfortunately not very close was the answer, in fact we were much nearer Vancouver Island at this time.
Vicente showed us a communication the ship had received overnight, warning all ships approaching Long Beach to be careful as pods of Blue & Humpback Whales have been spotted in the vicinity, so we are hopeful we might get to see some more wildlife.In the meantime, we amused ourselves by sitting and posing in the Captains chair, and taking photographs of pretty much everything, from pretty much every angle. Fortunately Vicente got into the spirit as well, posing in front of his work for us, and taking a couple of photos himself.
We were quite surprised to see a fully kitted window cleaner appear suddenly, but the Miami is being given a good scrub today. We are approaching US coastal waters, and the local authorities sound delightful. The Captain mentioned to us that on the last trip, during an inspection, they found a sliver of orange peel on the deck and fined him $1000! As a consequence, all over the ship from the bow to the stern there are crewmembers cleaning today. It is a funny sight seeing men covered by bright yellow waterproofs, whilst the sun is shining and the sea so calm.
In the evening during our pre-dinner drink the talk turned to our plans for when we reach California. The officers seemed in high spirits (perhaps because of our proximity to land, and the prospect of some shore leave) and the Chief Engineer is also planning a holiday to the states for next summer. After discussing LA and San Francisco, talk reached Las Vegas. Everyone was most insistent that we go, and to encourage us Peer produced two DVD's he had made of the ship's officers previous "jolly boys outings", which we watched as the sun went down.
Day 10 - 7th October
We woke early, somewhat unexpectedly given our previous form, so I thought I would try to catch the sunrise on deck. Except I hadn't noticed until I got outside that we were sailing through a huge bank of fog. On a big ship like this, on such a huge ocean, my sense of perspective has dimmed a little, and in this fog I have no idea how far I can see. I suddenly feel glad the men on the bridge have GPS.
I think we are both feeling a little restless today. There isn't a great deal more of the ship to explore, and we are nearing our destination. All the talk of Vegas last night was fun, but we still have more than 48 hours to go. It's not quite boredom, more that we can't settle down to any one task, restlessness. When you get on board for the first time you accept certain conditions and adjust your mindset accordingly, but when you are being told about 24 hour casinos, pleasure flights above the grand canyon, extravagant shows and 99c shrimp cocktails, it's bound to unsettle you a little.
After another good breakfast (sausage and egg) we played a little table tennis, put some more washing on, spent time doing some crosswords and listened to music. Lunch eventually came around. All the meals onboard are a at a set time, the schedule for which is: breakfast - 7.30 to 8; lunch - 12 - 12.30; dinner - 5.30 to 6. It's a little earlier than we would normally eat, but the plan is designed to fit around crew changes and you can't begrudge anyone a fair meal.
We rarely see the officers and crew during the daytime, unless we bump into them during the course of their work. There is often someone missing during mealtimes in the officers mess, and because everyone (apart from us) has been working hard, 7 days a week, conversation is sometimes at a premium. We sometimes feel that we are talking too much and stop, to let everyone eat in peace.
After lunch we visited the bridge again, to work out where we are. We aren't following the coast in a straight line, because of the curve we run on, but we're about 500 nautical miles off the coast of the US. We hovered the mouse over our destination, it shows about 900 nm to Long Beach so we've covered the bulk of the journey now. We both picked up copies of the NSB in-house magazine, I read a story written by a passenger like us who took the same journey and had the bad luck to hit a huge storm which registered 10 on the Beaufort scale and had to suffer 14 metre waves! We've had nothing like that, only a bit of swell which died a few days ago. Since then this great ocean has felt like a millpond, thankfully,
During our evening meal we only saw the First Officer, Adam. We struck up a conversation about the working life onboard such a ship as the Miami. We have both noticed that, when talking with just one of officers, the conversation flows more freely, and this was no exception.
Adam talked about what it was like to live and work onboard, particularly as regards the crew. They usually start work around 6am, and can work right through to 5pm - but can choose to work longer hours as overtime. On Saturdays everyone tends to finish at 4pm, and earlier on Sundays, but can still finish much later if they are behind on the overtime hours (they must complete it in large blocks as they are on the ship for months at a time, and only get paid once they reach a threshold).
We both got the impression that Adam felt it could be excessive, and was concerned about the effect it could have on men who spend so long away from home. Adam also talked about some of different Captains he had served under, and explained that the whole ethos of a ship is directed by the Captain's will. Some are good but only play by the rule book, others are very severe ("one said - you must keep your foot on the crews necks; not enough to strangle them but enough to make them follow your orders").
Once again Captain Auerbach got a glowing review, and we can testify to that, as so many of gthe crew have been friendly, charming and hospitable towards us. As just one example, the second mate (who was on the bridge when we crossed the date line) popped down to see us with a print out of the GPS map from our crossing, completed with a photo of the ship and one of us, which he had laminated together as a souvenir.
Day 11 - 8th October
There was some work going on last night, something involving cutting metal and loud instruments. Gemma and I both had a terrible nights sleep, waking at all hours, and we were both exhausted by the time my alarm clock went off. We made it down to breakfast, then promptly back to bed and slept right through until lunchtime. Which was most unfortunate because the ships mechanic, Toralf, spotted a number of different whales around this time.
As we get nearer and nearer to our destination we have been told to keep a lookout for whales and dolphins, as they are numerous in this area. Whilst waiting for Gemma to get dressed I wandered out on to the deck and spotted 6 dolphins playing in the ships surf, not 20 metres from where I stood. One in particular seemed to take great delight in leaping high out of the water.
I watched them for about 20 seconds before I remembered that I had neither my camera nor girlfriend, so I flew back to the cabin to collect them. "Gemma! Quick! Get dressed!" I screamed. In hindsight I shouldn't have chosen fire alarm drill day for such a wake-up call. I scared Gemma out of her wits. By the time I had returned to the deck with my camera they had disappeared from sight.
Huge prawns, ribs, chicken, sausages, and lamb with all the necessary trimmings for a successful barbeque were spread out before us. The cook had obviously been busy today, and everyone enjoyed a hearty meal. As the sun dived down we spotted more dolphins playing by the boat. Unfortunately Gemma had gone to the toilet and missed them again. After dinner, and quite a few bottles of Becks and Tsingtao, the fun began.
The Captain, on one of his trips home, picked up a Jenga tower. It is a pretty comical sight to see the officers and crew all gathered around the tower, taking it in turns to remove a brick, whilst the ship moves. Several of the crew have become adept at the game, although the Captain appears to be the expert. I'm told that, as the loser must buy the ships company a crate of beer, these games can get pretty competitive, even during rough seas.
Gemma joined in, whilst I wandered around the table taking some photos. On his first ever go the Chief Engineer knocked the tower down and had to write his name down next to the first crate on the Captains shopping list. The crew were delighted with this turn of events. The next fall came about when the cook tried to walk past the table, just before the Chief Engineer was about to face an even more daunting tower, and the crew cried "fix"!
I fancy that the bar, and the jenga game, go to show why Captain Auerbach is such a respected man onboard his vessel. Even as I write this before heading to bed the hardcore gamers are still gathered around the table. Something tells me that when the Miami next leaves port, she will be the most well stocked ship on the Pacific.
Day 12 - 9th October
The party in the Miami Beach bar went on till the early hours. Gemma came up to collect me, apparently the crew wanted to talk with us both, so I didn't make it to bed first time around. We traded stories of London and the Philippines with several of the crew, the story they seemed most interested in was the recent riots (fortunately they weren't interested in the rugby results). We shared the last of the barbequed food and talked about our home cuisines, and whilst the crew told us about locusts, scorpions, and dog and catmeat I suddenly felt a deep longing for cod and chips (with a pickled egg).
We talked about our families and our jobs. All of the men are married, most have children, and one or two have more than one wife. The crew usually sign on for a period of 6 months, sometimes as much as 10, and when they finish they get a couple of months off. After all the talk (and a few drinks) I didn't get to sleep until 2am, and Gemma a few hours later. At least we didn't have to start our shift at 8am, unfortunately they did. I am sure there are more than a few sore heads on deck today. There is definitely one in our cabin.
As the sun rose I took a walk on deck and began to detect a few signs that we were nearing our destination. Several large lumps of seaweed were soon followed by a container ship, and then another. As the clouds began to clear up I finally spotted land. At first it looked much like the fog banks I have been seeing for a few days, but it became more distinct, with jagged peaks. Even then it was too distant to make out any man made features.
I managed to wake sleeping beauty for lunch, another delicious steak and chips followed by ice cream. Although I am craving the choice of food which California will surely offer, you really can't fault Cookie And the Messman for their efforts. For 12 days they've managed to produce very healthy and filling meals, and I know we'll miss Cookie's high pitched singing coming from the galley and our steward's beaming smile.
With our final meal onboard over, one of us went back to bed, while the other walked to the forecastle, can you guess which one did which? Up the front of the ship the view was superb, passing between the coast and an island, the bay full of little white yachts and seagulls dive bombing us. The bow is really an incredibly tranquil place, perhaps the one area where you cannot hear the huge engine. The only noise is from the nose breaking through the water, but as we had slowed considerably from our earlier speed of 24 knotts it sounded more like someone paddling the feet in the water. I spent over an hour here, just enjoying the sun (and peering over the front hoping to spot more dolphins).
Just as I returned to the cabin, the phone rang. The Captain wanted to invite us up to the bridge one final time. I went up and the view was even better this time. Borrowing the ships binoculars I could just make out the letters of the Hollywood sign. In the foreground, the city of Los Angeles spread out below the hills and basked in sunlight, and even closer the port area complete with the Queen Mary.
A small boat whizzed towards us, made a circling movement and came alongside. Leaning out from the furthest point of the bridge (which hangs above the water) I watched as the pilot made his leap onto the Miami, and mentally traced the route he would be taking, up through the interior bones of the ship, through the engine room, and 10 minutes later he appeared on the bridge. It's quite a hike on a vessel this size.
It wasn't until we had entered the port itself, at the moment that I was watching seals at play in the harbour, that I remembered we had to pack still, so I said my goodbyes to all on the bridge and dashed down two floors to our cabin. As soon as I entered I spotted an apple which I had overlooked (US customs rules mean no fresh produce in your rooms) so I had to run down to the Mess on B deck, and back, before I could begin my packing.
Half an hour later we were called down to the Captains Office for our interview with customs. We had to wait while the crew were cleared first (which was fair enough, they all had jobs to do before they could go on shoreleave). In the queue we were able to say our goodbyes to all our friends from the crew and met the friendly US port agent Chris Wilson, and eventually we were called, to be greeted by a stern man in uniform. He asked the usual questions, about our plans and why we were arriving by boat, and eventually stamped our visas for six months.
We hurriedly departed the ship, not because of a desperation to leave it, but Chris had offered us a lift to a metro station in Long Beach but he had to dash to another vessel afterwards. As we struggled down the increasingly wobbly gangway with our heavy backpacks, our first taste of America was the sound of forty burly and tattoed US stevedores calling out "Welcome to America".
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