When we arose the glorious sun that had lit up Gwangalli Beach for the last 3 days had disappeared. In it's place were huge grey clouds, showering us with heavy drizzle, so we decided to take a taxi to our rendezvous with the representative of the port agent, a Mr S L Shin. We found Mr Shin outside the Citibank as agreed, and he led us through a labyrinth of alleys to his minivan, struggling to keep pace with our guide.
We drove out to Busan Newport, a modern port facility located 35km outside the city. Mr Shin, without really explaining what was happening, led us to the customs house where our passports were checked and we were made to walk through a metal detector, whilst our bags were sat in the back of the van. Ushered back to the vehicle we whizzed between stack upon stack of shipping containers, and before we knew it we were at the waters edge. Speeding past one large vessel, the MV Hanjin Miami suddenly loomed into view, casting an enormous shadow over the dock.
Mr Shin hurried us out of the vehicle, and before we had had time to strap up our bags and offer our thanks for his help he was pointing us towards the gangway. Never having been a huge fan of heights, this would have been a challenge without a full rucksack on my back, But Gemma was already off, and noting a number of curious faces peering at us from the vessel, I didn't want to lose face in front our of new shipmates. The steps were steep and wet, but at least they were solid, unlike the plasticine handrail, and my legs.
Arriving onboard we were greeted by several cheery hellos, and a steward led us inside the huge central tower and up several flights of stairs to F deck, where our room was located. We were pleasantly surprised by the size of it. There was a large seating area with a sofa, coffee table and chairs, a desk and plenty of cupboard space, as well as tv, DVD player and a stereo. There was a separate bedroom with large double bed, and a shower/toilet. The steward inquired if we had eaten, and invited us to lunch at midday in the officers mess, so we spent the hour settling in to our new room.
At the appointed hour we went down to B deck to the officers mess. Lunch was a tasty affair, tomato soup, roast duck with chips followed by ice cream (and squirty cream). We weren't expecting three courses so it was a pleasant surprise. After lunch, with the ship not due to sail until 9pm we fell asleep to the sound of 4 enormous cranes loading the ship with containers.
At 5pm the cabin phone rang, the Captain invited us down to the officers recreation room for pre-dinner drink. The Captain and Chief Engineer sat on high chairs next to a bar at which the 2nd Engineer was performing the role of barman. We sat, chatting with the three men about ship life and what we could expect - the Captain told us the weather forecast was extremely good, a huge relief.
During dinner (sushi) the Captain suggested we might like to join him on the bridge for our departure from the port. Having been told this was the one time we probably wouldn't be allowed on the bridge, we jumped at the chance. At 8.40 we headed up to the wheelhouse. The bridge wasn't quite the hive of activity one might have expected. The Captain leisurely sipped his coffee and watched as several stevedores clambered about on rookie some containers about 150 metres away. One of the cranes moved into place and began making some last minute alterations to the containers.
We were joined by the pilot, who discussed with the Captain his requirements and ordered a tug to help us. Gemma and I moved outside, where the bridge hangs over 30 metres above the sea. From this high up the containers looked like a crudely constructed Lego village, and cars and people whizzed about oblivious to our presence high above them. The pilot came over for a chat, obviously curious about our being there. We spoke about Korea, our destination and future plans. He seemed most pleased we had been to Korea.
At ten past nine, with the stevedores off deck, the Miami pushed away from the dock, and slowly picked up speed past the small islands that litter Busan Newport. After 20 minutes a small vessel appeared on our starboard side. Leaning out from the furthest windswept reaches of the bridge we could just make out the pilot, who had appeared in a small doorway below us, make a brave leap onto this launch. Taking a last look at the bright lights of Korea we said our farewells to dry land and called an end to our first day aboard the ship.
Day 2 -30th September
Overnight we crossed a time zone, putting the clocks forwards 1 hour. The 7.30am breakfast felt ridiculously early. The steward offered us Melba toast. I'd never tried it before but I certainly wasn't expecting toast covered in ham, cheese and tinned peach slices. I tried to mask the taste with the dark, strong coffee provided.
Back in the room Gemma fell asleep again, and I picked up a book. Before we knew it, it was midday, time for lunch. Somehow the gaps between mealtimes seem to pass very quickly. After lunch we spent some time in the gym, which is surprisingly well equipped. We both had a swim in the seawater pool, used the sauna and the exercise bike. There is also table tennis and some weights equipment.
It is quite a walk to the bow of the ship, 270 metres from the tower. There is a small guardrail, and care must be taken to avoid the various ropes and machinery That you find on deck. The path leads you underneath the outer containers until you reach a small flight of steps which takes you to a landing, full of winches and coils of rope. At the very front, if you carefully lean over you can see the bulbous nose which forces a path through the waves, reducing the effect of drag from the water.
In the evening, after dinner, we went up to the bridge. Almost all of the lights were off, just a few screens which track the ships GPS signal and give weather reports provide the only light. The second officer gave us a guided tour of the various systems he uses in the darkness, from the navigation functions to the engine room monitor. I was a little surprised that no-one is actually steering the vessel, it's all done automatically, but then I suppose that actually makes quite a bit of sense. At least there are two men on duty at night, one to monitor the systems and another to keep a manual watch outside.
Day 3 - 1st October
The clocks went forwards again, after a light breakfast we both fell back asleep, waking shortly before lunch. During the night the sea was a little choppy, nothing serious but enough to make it impossible to sleep on your side, so the post-breakfast nap is most welcome.
When we rise, we realise we are sailing between two islands. The crew tell us this is Japan, but the only distinguishing feature was the windfarm. Because we are sailing through a channel lots of other ships are visible, all cargo ships like ours. These ships look very small, but judging from the stacks of containers they must be of a similar size to the Miami.
The day settles into a routine, after lunch we both swim and have a sauna. We found the ships DVD library, most of the films are in German, so we ended up watching a romantic comedy. I considered abandoning ship but gemma talked me out of it, just. It appears that Sandra Bullock may be a mermaid, driving men into the sea to escape her nasal tones and wooden acting.
At 5pm we expect the Captains call, inviting us down to the bar, but the phone doesn't ring. We head down, the bar is empty. At 5.30 we remember that dinner is to be served in the Miami Beach Club. This is a very unusual and unexpected area on the ship. The Captain, in his spare time, made use of an unused portion of the deck to create a beach club, complete with wooden bar, benches and tables, and an assortment of eclectic decorations which he had picked up on his voyages around the pacific. Shells, fish, posters (of scantily clad ladies) and comic signs (of the "guys - no shirt no service; ladies - no shirt free drinks" variety) all vie for space with neon bar signs and disco lights.
Tonight everyone is eating together, although the officers and crew seem to gravitate to separate tables. It is a "cook your own dinner" affair. Taking a plate, I load it with shrimp, chicken and squidballs, vegetables and noodles, then return to the table where there is a large bowl of soup on a small portable stove. Everything goes into the soup, and a few minutes later dinner is ready. The cook (whom everyone calls "cookie") tells me this is a Chinese Barbeque, but whatever the name the food is delicious.
During dinner many bottles of Tsingtao and Becks are consumed, and everyone is chatting, swapping stories. Cookie is delighted to recount the time when he worked onboard a cruise ship which docked in Southampton, getting fleeced by a beautiful lady in a casino. A couple of the crew can't decide whether I remind them more of Braveheart or the Wrestler, which I'm sure is just their way of saying I'm pretty big in comparison. And the Captain tells Gemma about the time the Miami accidentally hit a sleeping whale!
Day 4 - 2nd October
We woke late, missing breakfast by a good few hours. So we quietly sit in the room, daydreaming about food. Soon it is time to return to the beach bar for the football match. At their last stop the Captain picked up a DVD of the recent Poland versus Germany match. Given the nationality of the officers onboard, I hoped it was just a friendly.
Just as we pull up a bar stool two huge glasses of Newcastle Brown Ale are sat in front of us. Doing my best to raise a smile I say thank you, and look at Gemma with fear in my eyes. Of all the British drinks to find in the middle of the pacific, this was the last I would have expected. I do my best to pretend that the murky brown liquid is coffee and sip gingerly, while the national anthems are being sung. On the tv, the Polish fans start booing during the German anthem.
The first half kicks off, and for 45 minutes we watch as not much happens. Instead the Captain and Chief Engineer discuss the merits of Ballack versus Schweinsteiger, and reminisce about Gerd Muller, whilst the Polish First Officer and 2nd Engineer fondly real off a list of Polish greats. The only name I recognise is Jerzy Dudek, so I try to explain the British concept of "butterfingers".
When the referee mercifully blows for half-time we head down to the mess for lunch. Grateful for food, and delighted it is steak and chips, we wolf lunch down, but by the time we have returned to the beach bar our glasses have been refilled. The second half was more entertaining with penalties, red cards and goals. The match finishes two all, to the delight of the Germans after a very late equaliser. After much noisy debate about the merits of the Polish red card, the Polish officers decide that the referee must be getting a new BMW after his display, and our small crowd begins to dissipate. Some go off to their duty, others return to bed, and we leave the Captain and 2nd Engineer to watch their Linkin Park DVD whilst finishing the remains of a second keg of Brown Ale.
During lunch Gemma mentioned to Adam, the First Officer and Peer, the Chief Engineer, that our shower has no hot water. Within minutes it has been fixed. Later when we go for dinner the Steward seems a little upset with us for going above his head. It wasn't a conscientious decision to do so, but it seems that the ship has a strict hierarchy which we perhaps find it difficult to grasp fully. In the mess, everyone has their own seat at one of two tables, and even in the officers bar everyone has their own stool. At first glance some things appears informal (the captains camouflage combat shorts or the first officers flip-flops) but the hierarchy is definitely there. And it is very easy to slip up.
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