The Pacific - Part Two

Day 5 - 3rd October

Today, monday, is a German holiday (Reunification Day) which means that most of the crew work less hours. We forget this, and after breakfast (cheese and ham omelet) we head down to the ships laundry room to do some washing. All of the machines are in use except one, clearly labeled Steward Only. Not wishing to upset the apple cart, we go to find the steward to ask if we can use it. He is fine with this, and having performed our hierarchical obligations we catch the elevator back down to the lower decks.

Later we discovered the ships pc, and the Captain provided us with an email address for free. It was a really nice surprise to find that we can send an email home to let our folks know that we are ok, and of course to request the football scores. It was less nice to find out that Everton lost the derby, and Peterborough threw away the lead to lose to Doncaster! We also managed to buy a�global phone card, I make a mental note to phone home tomorrow to surprise my parents on their wedding anniversary.

At 11am the phone rang. We were never quite sure what to make of the ringing, would it be the bridge telling us to run to the bow because dolphins or killer whales had been spotted? This time it is the captain, reminding us to come to the Miami Beach Bar to celebrate Reunion Day. We made our way down the stairs carefully, conscious of the rocking motion of the ship which is now more noticeable than at any time before. One moment the corridor feels like an attempt at Everest, the next you think you are racing Usain Bolt.

Down in the bar the officers have started drinking, as we arrive they pour us both a large Newcastle Brown Ale. Shit. Pawel, the second engineer, fires up a Santana DVD. You really can't fault the officers on their generosity or hospitality, just their love of awful British beer. As we drink the Steward places various dishes on the table behind us, and at 12 we sit down to eat. Lunch today is a Korean Barbeque, although not really a barbeque at all. We cook pork kebabs over a portable stove, and share bowls of kimchi, pickled vegetables, chicken and noodles and a delicious spicy peanut sauce.

After we have eaten we sit around the table, whilst the Captain pours us shot glasses of Blackcurrent Schnapps. I ask the Captain if the US customs are difficult to deal with, his laugh suggests that he has more than a few stories about them. They all involve comedy accents, hand gestures which resemble guns being waved vigorously and other demonstrations of excessive zeal. The First engineer suggests that the Captain is allowed to marry us, and the Captain adds that he could divorce us too. My reply also involves hand gestures which resemble guns pointed at my head by both our mothers!

The evening was very quiet. None of the officers came down to dinner, so we ate alone. Because of the holiday, it's another cold cut night, but this time the left over kebabs from lunch were served and they were still delicious. During our meal Gemma, whose seat looks towards a portable, mentions the horizon. We both stared outside for a few minutes, the ship was really rolling, far heavier than we had experienced thus far. Unlike a cross channel ferry it's not a particularly nauseating roll, when the ship reaches it furthest lurch it seems to hang there for quite some time, gradually building up it's energy for the return.

Back in the room I had to put away a few things we had left out on the tables. As darkness fell over the ship and the stars came out, I picked up my book and tried to read, conscious of the fact that, although I still felt safe, the rolling was enough to unsettle me to the point of insomnia.


Day 6 - 4th October

Neither of us slept very well last night, the rolling continuing through the night and into daybreak. When we eventually rise the ship seems to be lurching only to the left, momentarily righting itself then plunging back again. Outside the sky is filled with clouds and the wind is whipping up the sea blowing spray onto the decks. We are nearing the halfway point of the voyage, I start hoping the motion doesn't continue the whole time, because it's impossible to get a good nights rest like this.

After a quick breakfast, again without seeing any of the officers, we go back to the room and try to sleep some more. The rocking continues to the point that, fed up of having to grip the mattress, I grab my pillow and duvet and lay down on the couch , which is at different angle to the bed. Now the rocking is between my feet and head, so I wedge myself between the cabinets at either end and manage to fall asleep.

When I wake up a few hours later, the motion has nearly subsided. Relieved at this turn of events I get dressed and go outside for some fresh air, and discover to my shock that we have stopped moving. We are just floating, bobbing up and down on the waves just like one of the hardy seabirds we see from time to time so far from land. This is something I never expected, knowing what a tight schedule these vessels must keep to, and to be so far from land has an uneasy effect on the mind.

By the time we head down to the mess for lunch, the ship is back underway, and the rocking restarts. It begins to rain also, lashing against the portholes. We bump into the Captain, Gemma mentions the motion, and the Captain just laughs. It seems this is quite normal. In the afternoon we have a fire drill. Which is to say that the crew did. When the drill was announced, gemma and I assumed we would be playing the role of passengers in distress. Given our instructions were to "wait for instructions" we donned our fluorescent orange life jackets, and sat in our room, waiting! Forty minutes later one of the crew wandered past our room. He peeked in and noticed us, ready for the drill. "Oh! The drill has finished" he informed us, so we sheepishly repackaged our life jackets in the drawer.

Using a phonecard I manage to call my parents (6am UK time) to wish them a Happy Anniversary (and Birthday to Dad). Later in the evening the Captain reminds us that we will be crossing the International date line, which means that tomorrow will be the same day as today, hopefully the same just a little less rocky and a little more stimulating. There's no chance of table tennis if it stays like this. He invites us up the the bridge to watch the jump over the line on the navigation equipment, but can't be sure what time, he will let us know.

In the evening, after a chicken curry dinner, we try to kill some time with a Jody Foster DVD. At 11.30 we head up to the bridge, where the 2nd officer, a friendly Philippine called Vicente gives us a run down on our situation. He points to a dot on the GPS and tells us there is another ship just under 3 miles away, crossing the Pacific in the other direction. Staring out of the huge bridge windows we can make out some dull lights which appear to be much further away. He let's us have a peek through the binoculars.

We're just 94 nautical miles away from the Aleutian Islands now, very close to a US Navy firing range. Vicente shows us the navigation equipment and points out that we are now bearing down upon the international date line, which we should hit about 1am. We decide to wait it out, how many other times are we likely to cross here in a ship?

At midnight the watch changes, we say goodnight to Vicente and hello to the 2nd mate, who is at pains to make us feel welcome. Whilst we move into the map room to look at more equipment, he sets us a table and chairs right by the window and makes us both a cup of coffee. And so, shortly before 1am we cross the very line that saved Phileas Fogs bet. There is no fanfare, but it is interesting to watch the equipment suddenly switch from East to West. We are now halfway around the world, or halfway home depending on which way you look at it.


Day 7 - 4th October

Due to our time on the bridge we didn't get back to the room until 1am and then had to put our watches forwards an hour. We slept well, too well, missing our alarm and breakfast so by the time we rose at 10am we were very hungry. We felt like we were killing time until lunch.

In the afternoon we didn't really achieve much. We went to do more washing but the machines were full. Trying to play table tennis was comical, the swell affecting both our games. We went for a dip in the pool, the thermometer showed 27c but it really wasn't that warm, and the water sloshed about severely.

We both spent some time contacting family from the ships office. The Captain provided us with a ships email address which we have taken advantage of, and we purchased a phonecard for $24 which allows us about 45 minutes of call time. It has been really nice being able to contact the people at home who you are missing, and today especially it helped us both.

Perhaps because of our late night, or because of the mental effect of repeating the previous day, we both felt a bit bored today. Neither of us really got out teeth into anything. Today is really the first day I've felt a longing to be back on dry land, able to choose what I will have for dinner, to change my scenery, and of course to sleep in a bed which isn't moving!


Day 8 - 5th October

Not for the first time, we didn't have the best nights sleep. Not because of rough of weather, I'm putting it down to a lack of activity and exercise. We try to be as active as we can, but there is a limit to how often you want to walk to the forecastle. Fortunately today had something different lined up for us, so after a delicious breakfast (eggs Benedict) we went to the ships office to meet Pawel, 2nd engineer, for a tour of the engine room.

Entering a door in the main structure marked "authorised personnel ONLY", we donned ear protectors and made our way through a second door, where the noise, smell and heat became immediately apparent (it would have made Fred Dibnah weep with joy). We could brief glimpses of various bits of machinery and piping before we were ushered inside the control room. Here Pawel showed us the panels and switches which control everything from how hot the swimming pool is to the water levels in the ballast tanks.

We were given a quick run down of what we were about to see (we could take our ear muffs off in the control room), and then we dived back out to the mechanical mayhem. It's a little difficult to describe what we saw, my mind has never been one for such things, and it was hard to catch what Pawel was saying to us (fortunately I took some snaps). I can recall seeing the pistons, which weigh a staggering 9 tonnes each), and the main engine itself was just enormous, bigger than an old steam engine (and far more more powerful, capable of delivering up to 93,000 horsepower).

We walked down several flights of stairs, looking here at some parts and there into another room. It was like something from the Poseidon Adventure, (except it was the right way up). We saw the propeller shaft, churning around and driving us towards California, and were treated to a look at the steering mechanism. By this point we were to the back of the vessel, the metal surface felt cold to the touch and we could see our breathe - Pawel explained that we were at the outer point now, on the other side was water, and lots of it!

We went for a hike around the lower walkway, located at the bottom of the ship, and discovered a leaking steam pipe. We also saw a manhole for the pilot, who has to make his way from the pilot launch to the bridge by jumping across the sea and climbing up through the interior. And during the tour we met several of the crew, some that we recognised and others we didn't. Generally they seemed pleased to see us, happy we were taking an interest in their work.

The tour finished around 10am, by which time we were both worn out. The rest of the day was a pretty lazy one, spent sleeping, eating and relaxing in the cabin. We finished quite a few crosswords between us and watched another movie. Although today was considered a Sunday for crew working hours (as there was an extra day in this week) there didn't seem to be much happening, so we had a relatively early night.

The Pacific - Part One

Day 1 - 29th September

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.