Parrotting, Jackhammering, and The Whole Friggin' World Explained!!!!

I got off the phone with Laura yesterday afternoon (HI) evening (WA).  We both kind of called it- having said everything we could possibly think of to say to the point of rapid-fire and reciprocated yawning- and I turned the lights out.  Sometimes we take saying “until we next have cellphone reception” a little too far, beyond the silence and yawning, to the point where I suspect we both feel silly for still being there (like we’re school kids and it's late at night), but we were rational adults this time.  

I awoke later in a violent fever.  I was shaking so hard I would have been unable to hold the cell phone, much less call for help on it.  There was “a forceful physical expulsion,” as if I had eaten rotten food, but that’s not why- as soon as the fever broke- that I started writing this.

I started writing this because of the fever-dreams.  

In the dreams I called out for an "old man," who turned out to be a South Pacific Islander of unrecognizable delineation.  He came and coached me through getting rid of, as he called it, “a bad spirit.”  Insert a bunch of bullshit imagery taken right out of Hollywood’s downloadable and pixilated screen, that poison-of-the-mind that we cannot unsee.  Forever and ever, Amen.

Anyway, the imagery was all hokus pokus until, after multiple trips to the head and bundling up in every item of clothing I brought with me and jackhammering the bedframe with my violent fits, the fever broke.  Instantly.  I stopped shaking, my face, hair, and pillow were soaked with sweat, snot, and tears.  The old man assured me I now knew what to do if the bad spirit came back, but he was no longer my responsibility.

At this point, contrary to what I thought I knew of fevers, the imagery turned…. um…. lucid?  And the entire time the images kaleidoscoped in my spent brain-jello, the old man told me his people’s history.

As he spoke I was catching a forming wave in clear, shallow water.  I was overcome with that thrilling rush only those who have caught a wave, no matter how fleetingly, know and recognize deep in the primitive marrow of their bones.  It curled over me, higher and higher, blotting out the sun with a diffraction of color, fish and birds swimming in the tunnel of water overhead until the wave became the sky itself, filled with towering thunderheads, light fluffly cumulous clouds, fish-scale cirrus and great sweeping mare’s tails- mere colors on the wave, rolling and growing ever-mightier along.

And I understood that I wasn’t surfing into land, but that I’d caught one of the great ocean swells, from her infancy, and it was alive.  I wasn’t washing into shore, I was navigating by the feel of the wave itself to another place, far away over the edge of the horizon.

It was then that I saw the bow of the canoe slicing the water (one of the canoes I photoed yesterday for design study, incidentally), and the old man explained canoes are male, and the sea and the sky are female.  That the canoe carries the sea and the sky, and without the canoe the majesty of the sea and the sky would cease to exist, and without the sea and the sky the canoe would be no more. I might have been in the canoe, I might have been it... whatever- that's not important.

He then concluded by informing me that the spirit that we banished was the “old me” I no longer needed to carry.  He was not welcome on the islands.  That we let him go and the “rage of war” in me should remain silent.  I laughed out loud when he said “welcome to the islands,” but truth be told, I think I was babbling in a horrible and meaningless parrot of the Hawai’ian language the whole time I was on fire.  Not even slightly embarrassing.  I hope I didn’t do that.  Really, really hope I just hallucinated that, too...

I wound down into common dreams of building a canoe using a method to fair the hull I had never thought of (which I am now anxious to try) with a friend who moved to the Philippines several years ago and two sailors (the giant ukulele-playing cook and the ordinary he smoked the hookah with on the stern of my last ship).

And now I am completely spent... there isn't much left to this tale, except I should have brought more of my Hawaiian shirts... I stand out without one on, here.

Sleep.  Take two.

This was the bow from my dream.... only it was yellow, and had a different name I tried, but failed, to remember.

Another modern design of the traditional canoe- I just liked it.  It wasn't in the dreams.

I saw many of these "shark fin" sterns (on left) and quite like them.  Incidentally, the canoe on the left is the color yellow of the ulua's bow from my dreams.

Info and Trouble- but not MY trouble

So I am on here for 3 voyages, each voyage lasting about 32 days, stopping in Hono, Guam, 3 ports in China- including Shanghai- and then back to the mainland to I believe Oakland and LA- but I might be wrong about Oakland.  Not much more info, but a little more.

We were supposed to be underway by 0400, but while I was being introduced to the bridge by one of the daymen (he's a "Book," or an A class sailor) the Old Man announced over the PA that the Mate wouldn't be setting the sailing board in the morning (a rules thing)- and it looks like we'll be underway by 1630 tomorrow, instead.

My new quarters- for reference, look back a few days for comparison...

The other side of my quarters- note the x-box above the closet.

My private head.

Different than my other two ships, this room faces fore and aft- Behold
my view!  Keep in mind- once those containers are piled up- what it will
look like come morning....

So far this seems like an incredibly chill bunch... according to all, the Bosun is chill, the Mate is chill, and the Old Man actually has his cat with him- a bright-eyed thing named Scratchy.  Laura wasn't impressed- she forbid me to bring Nightmare, no matter.  Two of the Hawaiians who were in the hall when I threw down for the job were here doing standby work, so we hung out a bit at coffee and lunch.  One of the guys was trying to convince the other to throw down for a stint- once he gets his "situation handled-" what sounded like a little tiny bit of assault.  As "Pony" explained, "He's a good man, him, but trouble found him one time..."

Kickin' it on the beach...

So, I am just wandering around Honolulu waiting for Monday to get here- there really isn't anything else to do but try and find ways of not spending money.  Or at least get my money's worth...

Just monkeying around...

Manoa Falls

Plant life from an alien planet....

Just a random pond in a random place full of random Koi that my phone
randomly decided to "enhance," "filter," and "frame...."

The masts referenced a couple days ago- this is the "Falls of Clyde," a beautiful
old girl that is being hauled, soon.  It is next to the Honolulu Maritime museum,
which is (sadly) closed, waiting for benefactors to step forward with money.

Fern.

Flower.

Jungle Fowl.

View from the site of a great battle between rival islanders in the years of yore...
My Hawaiian is pathetic- I can't enunciate or remember a single word beyond
"Aloha" and "Mahalo."  Needless to say, the place has a name and I don't know it.

I was so tempted to do the cliff dives, here...

I did, however, go for a swim here and these big ol' girls were everywhere in the water- Turtle Beach, Oahu.

Note the radio transponder on the shell of the turtle to the right.

4th of July fireworks as seen from Fisherman's Wharf.  Great show!  Front row!

This was taken while on the phone with my sister- right over the rail where
the "Falls of Clyde" is docked.  I so want to go in....

Totally different biome than the jungles visible
across the valley- grows in the desert of
Diamond Head's crater.

View from Diamond Head.

Panorama of the inside of the Diamond Head crater.

Banyan tree- originally given as a gift to the king and queen of Hawaii, the tree
has become invasive (or, as the new breed of archaeologists and historians
prefer to see it, as "indicative of the homogenization caused by the Columbian
Exchange").  I think someone just needs to figure out an industrial use for it....
That usually guarantees its species-wide demise.

So... must find a place to store my goods while I go swimming.  Then find some sushi.  

Aloha!

Booyah!

So I threw down my card this morning and got a watchstander job aboard the "Matson Manukai," a 217 meter, 32.5 thousand gross rated tonnes, 3000 TEU container ship built in 2003.  Voyage duration unknown.  Destinations: West Coast USA to East Coast China, and all ports in between.

Only one other B-card sailor competed against me, but his registration was June, mine was April 27th... he left the hall with a disgusted look on his face... clearly he was expecting to get that job- expecting it with a new card, at that, indicating there is little competition here... this IS the place to be right now!  Me?  I'm gonna drive that ship, yo.  Like a boss.  With a chocolate-eating grin (oh yes I did!).

I, too, have sat in the hall, waiting day after day, and watched as a perfect job posted and then suddenly someone I've never seen before swoops in out of nowhere to snatches the job right out of my fingers.  I've been planning and preparing for this ship since after the shipyard, last year.  That other B-card sailor's ruffled feathers will not rob me of any sleep, whatsoever.

Smaller than the APL Polk by about 58 meters, the Manukai is still a real,
ocean-crossing ship.  The contract is similar, so I won't have as much to learn
straight out of the gate, either.

Immediately I was sent to the physician to get a "fit for duty," which was swiftly established.  And now?  The long wait until Monday.  In the meantime I've booked a funky tour with an outfit called Hiking Hawaii for tomorrow... snorkelling, swimming with sea turtles, hiking to waterfalls- sounds perfectly distracting!

My boat with boxes.

Welcome to The Doghouse!

When you register in my union, the oldest union in these United States, the registration is good for three months.  They issue a registration card, with the date on it, which we use to compete for jobs when they get "posted on the board-" meaning, quite literally, that the job available is posted on a big bulletin board in the union hall.  Hence, posted on the board.  Creative, no?  Promptly at 1030 the rep "calls the job," and everyone interested "throws down their card."  The rep sorts them by seniority (A, B, C, and D)- the A's taking it over the B's, the B's over the C's, and so on.  If the job has only B cards (for example, what my seniority is now), the oldest registration of all the B cards has the most seniority and takes it.

At the end of April I registered in Hawaii, as I mentioned a few posts ago- with the intention of flying over here July 1.  There were a lot of unknowns, like how long would I sit in the hall?  Should I put everything on credit cards and be stingy with my cash?  Would I get a job before my registration expires?  Should I buy a cheap bike or will the public transit here be adequate?  Where can I get effective coffee?  What will I eat?  Et cetera, et cetera, so on and so forth, ad infinitum.  

So I boarded a jet from Seattle to Honolulu, yesterday, none of these questions answered.  I had instructions to go to the doghouse, a place for we sailors to stay in Hawaii while waiting for a ship. It costs $25 a day and is above the union hall, situated right in the heart of the financial district of downtown Hono, across a busy little city highway from some body of navigable water, as evidenced by four masts on a steel hull I keep eyeballing (exploring that soon, you can put money on it).

But I knew none of this.  Two hours before leaving the house to fly over I booked a hotel because the "building manager" had not returned my calls.  I used my google device, my handheld Library of Alexandria, to show the driver my hotel location once I arrived.  In the morning I used this same tri-corder type of window into all things important to navigate here to the union hall.

Within half an hour I was checked in, I prepaid for 5 days, and then started in on the paperwork for the office.  All my papers were in order, but my drug card is expiring soon, so in the infernal name of Diligence! (TM) I set off to the credible clinic with union papers in one hand, and a giant coffee in the other- ready, willing, and able to piss into a cup.  I figured, "ah, what the hell, I should just walk" and briskly set off in the morning's 70 degree gloriousness with determination.

Fast forward four hours and I returned sore of foot, drenched in sweat, and ready for a nap- but my task was accomplished!  So in 4 or 5 days they will mail my new card here to the hall.  

Except it is looking like 3 watchstander jobs are posting tomorrow.  And my card is nice and old.  So I might be shipping out as soon as tomorrow... my walk?  My Diligence?  My precious, golden bodily fluids?  All Wasted.  

Now I am drinking copious amounts of mineral-laced water and hiding in the air conditioning before I venture forth again... for those curious about my impression of what little I've seen of Hono, thus far:  Tybee Island in the 70's with a mostly Asian population, a Chinatown, and volcanoes.  Meal 1- great sushi!  There is, without any exaggeration whatsoever, a Starbucks on every corner in Honolulu.  Verifiable fact.

Above- My quarters at the Doghouse

It would be fascinating to add a picture of a jail cell, here...  For fun, try to find
the number of differences between the two pictures.  Can you spot all 12 of them?

Below- USNS Waters quarters

The Google-Seabird-URL Test

I have posted (in the past) a lot about the critters I see while at sea and I have frequently lamented the lack of Google for access to the Library of Alexandria when underway and without interwebs- below is a test involving both the birds and the Google.  It is a short list of google image searches for several of my favorite seabirds, the shortened URL's of which should take you to a google image search for those birds.  If it doesn't quite work like that, then... well... my bad.

Magnificent Frigate Bird
Olivaceous Cormorant
Royal Tern
Gannet
Red Footed Booby
Black Skimmer

The Range-Light and Tinderboxes

Almost off this temporary stint aboard the USNS Waters... but I got in some good overtime.  44 Hours above and beyond this past straight-time 56 hour work week.  Below you can see the mast I spent three days chipping, priming, and painting in the hot Florida sunshine.  I have spent hours looking at it from the bridge while driving random and pointless courses in the Bermuda Triangle, and the rust has itched like a scab, begging to be picked.

Painting the foremast from a bosun's chair... 

Of interest to anyone who has read my earlier posts:  The bosun aboard right now was a sailor on my first ship.  A sailor I referred to as the "Wrestler" talked a lot of crap about this guy (lazy, worthless, weasle, etc.), but classic psychological projection being what it is, this guy happens to know the job and isn't a lazy, worthless, weasle... things the "Wrestler" actually turned out to be.  This guy is kinda goofy (aren't we all?), but there isn't any harm in him and I'd sail with him again without reservation.

So far, as a sailor, there isn't a single bridge I've burned (or not burned) that I wouldn't burn again (or not, as the case may be)... actually, there are some I should have burned sooner.  But that's just water under this metaphorically combustible and fire-prone structure.

Photo Dumper

Flaked out mooring lines.

Typical mayhem.

Carrying our carry-things.

My travel companions.

Scenes from the shipyard.

My bellrope is still on the USNS Waters,
Even after being gone for 5 months....

I've watched 6 of these launches, now... 

Every night in Cape Canaveral this passenger vessel uses this turning basin....
music blaring and looky-loo's at the rail, staring at me.

Never Say Never

I said I'd never come back to this ship again, but here I am, proving that you really, really should never say never.  My being here for a short period is helping so many people in a tight spot, though, I couldn't (in good conscience) say "no."  For a Short.  Period.  Of time.

Having said that- there are several people aboard it has been fun to catch up with- workmates who became facebook "friends" who have become work-friends.  And this ship drives like a skiff- it's hardly work.  And they pay me to do it.  Right now, though, I am done.  Travelled all yesterday, got in at 0130 this morning, unpacked and showered, tossed and turned for a few hours, then got up at 0515 to kick this ship off the dock... I've been working ever since (that would be a pleasant 7 hours of overtime, thank you very much).  And I really have nothing more to add to that except I am going to go to bed and sleep like a bag of potatoes.

This is the pen with which I'm going to write "Never Say Never"
 on my hand.  Yes, in non-military approved red.

When on "The Beach:" Beachbum.

I have been remiss in my blogging since I “hit the beach.”  The life of a sailor doesn't end when he gets off the ship, and in some cases (like mine), sailoring enables me to afford my aquatic lifestyle so this will be a from-the-beach update (with some actual "inside merchant mariner" stuff at the end).

One of the ways I stayed sane while aboard ship was to do traditional knot-work, making lanyards, bellropes, and roping bottles. Here's a sample:

I roped this bottle, originally, with the full intent
of using it as the envelope for a letter to Laura.
After hunting high and low, I finally found the correct
seine line- something that isn't that easy to
do while on a ship in Florida, but by that point
the occasion for the letter was long past due.

I am sad to say this is not the complete collection of lanyards-
conspicuously absent is the one I did with yellow
polypropylene- a rope notorious for untying itself.  I gave
most of these away but I kept the yellow poly one for myself. 

The day I discharged from the survey vessel USNS Waters, I got my papers from the old man (captain, for the land-legged...) and drove the motorcycle (see previous posts) up the coast and became waylaid in Daytona by some nasty, nasty weather. Onward to Savannah a few days later, I tried to cram in as much of a visit with family as possible in the various places... of note were the falling tree limbs, weighed down with ice from an inconvenient ice storm, but I managed to avoid them all by staying at Georgia and mom's, or having Clay and Suzanne drive me hither and thither. And I circumnavigated Tybee with Fleetwood in his new skiff:

Cockspur Light, mouth of the Savannah River near the end of the stretch of
shipping channel known as the "Tybee Roads."

Cockspur Light Detail.

First order of business once flying home was to take Laura on a legitimate, family-free vacation. So I dragged her to the Florida Keys, where we stayed on a houseboat and spent a week kayaking, jet skiing, canoeing, snorkeling, nature sightseeing, and eating nothing but fresh seafood.  We stayed directly in the mangroves of the Everglades. It was as wonderful as it was long overdue.

About a quarter mile from the houseboat.

Yellow feet!

A funny bird, the Peli Can, Its bill can hold more than its belly can...

My marinering-for-money has given way to sailing and boat-work on my own boat since coming home, also known as disposing of all the money earned marinering as fast as humanly possible. The needle gun has been swapped for a sanding board, the hawser for a dockline, the ECDIS for a handheld GPS.  It is, essentially, the same existence but I get to have coffee made by baristas and I go home at night and harass Laura and our cat. Here is a video of a grueling day of work, cleaning the boat bottom.

Gluing teak with resorcinol glue- once this was all clamped up I had to take
it in to the office and turn on the heat - resorcinol won't kick below 70 degrees!
Not Northwest friendly at all...

I made new grab rails and I'm almost completely ready to paint the decks.
One of the things you can't see here are the new, tinted windows installed
on the other side.  These windows are next!

Other than boat work and vacation, I have managed to start writing a book (oops- what in the hell?). I have remodelled our bedroom. I completely redesigned the plans for my ulua sailing canoe- after using AutoCAD to loft a set of plans I bought from a respected designer, I discovered the curves weren't fair. Since only I know what I want in a canoe I figured I should just design it myself- besides, what the hell does that guy know, anyway!? He knows how much work it is, that's what! And, lastly, I have ridden the bike a lot- to the tune of about 3 pounds. Must. Ride. More.

But the sailoring requires homework to be done in order to do it correctly, and in my case I have heeded the advice of "The Bos'n" from the first two voyages of the Polk and registered in the Hawaiian union hall. Honolulu, here I come!  

The Seattle union hall wanted to put me on another military ship and I really wasn't all that keen to find myself on another one of those without first going out on another commercial ship. Not that they're in any way worse, but the commercial ships are always moving, going places I want to go. The hall in Honolulu has lots of good ships and fewer sailors, so I should be able to get a decent job.  

But it's all about time, and lots of it.

When I first started in the union I was a "D-card" - low on the seniority ranks. After my first ship and paying my dues I became a C-card, which made getting my second ship (hypothetically) easier because I was only competing with A and B sailors. After my last ship and paying my dues I made it to B-card status, which means I'm an actual full union member now, but not yet a fully vested "Book," or class A sailor. However, I am only competing against older B-card registrants and Books (registrations are good for only 3 months, after which they expire and I need a new one).

So the trick is in knowing when to register and where to register. Timing comes into play because I need to know where the ship I want will be in about 2.5 months, give or take a week, so my registration will be the oldest. I need to know how many jobs will be called. And I need to know who else will be throwing down for the job.

Since the inner workings of the process take some divination that is much more clear to the guys who've been there 20 or more years, my best bet is to be someone other people want to sail with (like the 20 year or more veteran sailors). Work hard, make the bos'n look good, be a courteous sailor, learn as much as possible and always be clear about my knowledge, et cetera. If I am lucky enough to sail with these guys, I'll actually try and get the delegate position so I can learn from them how it's supposed to be done... much more work with no payoff except being better at what I do.

So, I do all that, and these "old timers" are suddenly willing to tell me when I need to throw down and where- I can deconstruct their thinking and learn from them not only how to do it, but how to teach it to the ones worth keeping down the line. And have a much greater chance for a chill voyage while I'm at it.

OK... more soon.