On Foreign Articles

I just erased several paragraphs of invective aimed at the greater Los Angeles area but decided I have too many people in my life in or from LA that might take such vitriol personally… suffice it to say I’d rather be eaten by gnats and poisonous vermin of all description (such as in Savannah), or given the shaken-baby treatment by violent and catastrophic seismic and/or volcanic activity (as in Seattle) than suffer the rampant rudeness, self-absorption, and utter contempt for civilization and civility that a vast majority of Los Angelenos unselfconsciously exhibit.  

Venice Beach.

Venice Beach home with a shed-on-a-stick.

An almost redeeming moment in a Redondo Beach sushi joint.

Redondo Beach pier.  The beach isn't actually accessible... very LA.

This steam ship departed- with me thankfully aboard- and won’t be back for 30-something days and that will be 30-something days too soon for my personal taste.  The only good news knowing I will return is that the next time I am there I will have less than three days before I will be home.

Anyway, watches were set and I gladly drove us out of the city at sunrise- Out through docks as far as the eye can see in any direction and out through the only part of LA I like; under vast bridges and past container ships, bulk ships, RO RO’s, tankers, barges, towboats, cranes of inconceivable proportions, a mayhem of criss-crossing power lines, smoking stacks and steaming concrete towers full of the witches brew from which all of California’s commerce pours forth; and out into the Pacific ocean where 9 meter swells greeted us with green water over our starboard bow.

Working on the cargo gear while the ship is empty.  I was hiding in the shade.

The wind howled, the swells came on, and the old man closed the decks to the crew so there wouldn’t be a repeat of what this ship is known for amongst sailors, and is referred to as the “incident on the bow,” that happened a couple years ago.  I first heard about it on my last ship- 6 men were securing the forward hatch when the ship took on green water like she was doing at this particular departure.

No one had heard from the gang for awhile and the mate wasn’t answering her radio so someone was dispatched forward to check on them- they found 6 unconscious crew members and, as it was described to me by one of the responders, “enough blood for a murder scene... ”  One person had been swept into a hawsepipe and lodged there, the force of the water stripping the clothing off their body, leaving them completely naked.  Another’s thigh had a compound fracture (one source for the blood).  All of them suffered broken bones, contusions, concussions, and all of them had to be stretchered  back to the ship’s house where a trauma center was set up in the crew mess hall because the hospital only accommodates one sick crew member.

It is the worst nightmare imaginable for the chief medical officer- the second mate; likewise, the worst-case scenario for the Captain.

So this old man shut down the deck and nobody whined or complained, not even the sailors.  As soon as we passed the weather we began clearing decks but it was a little more involved than usual due to the stores we took on in Long Beach- about 25 crane loads worth.  We stored them against the house and lashed them down at the time but as soon as we finished clearing decks, and before we could begin flooding the decks with hoses per the usual washdown routine, it all had to be stowed.

Spools and boxes of line, hoses, mops and brooms, paint and painting supplies, tools, cleaning gear and chemicals, what we call “PPE,” or “Personal Protective Equipment,” and all sorts of other deck paraphernalia had to be carted hither and yon and jammed into the unlikely places aboard ships that stuff like that gets stowed and forgotten until make-work is needed and the bosun or mate uncovers the material from which all work-lists are made.  In other words, it was pre-make-work and was something akin to actual work.

The good news about going to China is that this time I finally have a 5 year China visa!  The bad news is we’ll only be in port from 0600 until 1700 of the same day… the likelihood of going ashore for me is slim to none.  The visa will, however, enable me to take China shipyard jobs unavailable to sailors who don’t have one- which is most of them.

By the time washdown did commence the seawater temp had risen to 71 degrees fahrenheit- high enough to herald in the tropical air.  Sweat ran down my body beneath my black foul-weather gear as I roasted in the sun.  The winds were following, as well; they traveled over the sea at the same speed as the ship, so the relative wind was 0 knots… the stack gas went straight up, the ash from blowing tubes came straight down, and the cooling effect of a gentle breeze to this black-plastic wrapped sailor was conspicuously absent.  

An unspectacular sunset over the Pacific - pretty nonetheless. 

The day of arrival to Hono brought with it the STCW sleep regulations that said I couldn’t work from 0800 until 1400 so I copied four seasons of “Game of Thrones” (all of which I’ve seen) to my hard drive and started from season 1.  

I didn’t sleep much, so arrival at midnight was a killer- but here I am, back in the Fresh Cafe on Queen street… stuffing my piehole.  In a half an hour I head out to the union meeting: in attendance, the president of the union, who I met this morning when I hitched a ride from the Hono rep.

OK… enough!  Post it or don’t… time to go!