Freighter Ship Theodor Storm

September 5-17, 2006

 

Early tomorrow morning I’ll have to leave the ship. Again I read in my Marcus Aurelius

 

You took the ship,

you traversed the seas,

have arrived in port,

now get off.

 

Could the strict Marcus Aurelius have imagined 2000 years ago how difficult this would be for me?

 

Arriving on the Ship

 

Tuesday, 9.000 in Singapore. The Agent Mr. Klaus, picks me up from the hotel. I did not realise that Chinatown is only a 5 minute drive from the port. The port can only be entered with a special ID and that appears to be a problem. The policewoman at the entrance does not want to let me in. There is a lengthy discussion, some other police officers show up and we both start to lose our good humour. We’re being directed to another checkpoint, where no-one wants to be troubled and we end up at the entrance again where now we’re being waved through without any further complications; after all the whole upheaval only lasted 30 minutes. Mr. Klaus shows me around briefly.  Here is a completely different world:  no glamour but a lot of hard work.

 

After a quick tour we stand in front of the big ship. A short seaman  carries my luggage on board up to level A, which is already about 3 storeys above ground level. I get a friendly welcome, also from  the gentle giant, Victor, the steward. A little paperwork in the ship’s office, then Mr. Klaus goes off ship. He has told me that the ship remains in port for a long time: almost 24 hours. On these ships people work round the clock.

 

Victor takes me upstairs to my room. He explains that as a lady I will be allocated the owner’s suite. Male passengers get the doctor cabin two storeys below, but I reside between the Captain to the right and the Chief Engineer to the left on deck F, which is almost 10 storeys high in the tower.  One more storey above me: the bridge. I look around: large living room, bedroom and bathroom. Cupboard for my clothes and racks and drawers for all my stuff, writing desk and seats. Even a huge TV set adorns my suite – obviously not in functioning order, so I can only use it as a mirror, of course there is no full-body mirror on a ship for upright men.

 

 

The first day

 

I unpack my possessions: what a relief to be able to hang up all my clothes and to drape all my things, odds and ends in my suite. I go for a first timid walk. At that moment somebody gets out of the elevator: „Good morning, I’m the captain“. I expected a bearded old sea bear, but certainly not this drop dead gorgeous rock star. He shows me the bridge and gives his permission to witness the leaving shore manoeuvre in the afternoon. I hear that the higher officers are Russians or Ukrainians and the rest of the crew are Phillipinos. When I encounter one of these small seamen I get a friendly but shy greeting. I am fascinated by how the ship is being loaded and I guess that the containers are being transferred onto the ship in 30-second intervals. A truck gets into the lane, the crane grabs the container and loads it onto the vessel and in the meantime the truck has left the lane and a new one is ready. To the front and to the back more cranes are working and the loading goes on.  A little further in the distance the next ship is being loaded as well. It is only upon departure, that I realise that the “next ship” is still the same; our “Theodor Storm”. I did not realise how long she is. All this is rather dangerous and I am requested to remain within the living quarters. I climb from one deck to the other and shoot a number of photographs. Then it is time for lunch: my first meal on board. Victor had already explained where I would be sitting and so I take punctually my seat. The other officers appear, say a short greeting, eat in silence and disappear again. Some of the places stay empty, even though the table is set. Some of the officers do not even look into my direction. May be I have landed in a religious order of silent monks?

 

 

The departure

 

We have eventually departed, the departure time had been delayed a number of times, and then I was told that we were waiting for the pilot. Eventually – it is already close to 10 pm - we leave. We are being pulled by a small tug from the quay. The pilot gives short instructions, there is tension but no nervosity or hectic. I stand in the open on the bridge and let the breeze run through my hair. I do feel like Kate Winslet and the fact that Leonardo di Caprio is briefly on shore and that the name of the ship is not Titanic, leaves me hopeful.

 

After about half an hour a speedboat comes to the side and the pilot is being led downstairs. He climbs down a ladder and with an elegant little jump he gets onto the speedboat. He told me that he used to be a captain himself and went to sea for more than thirty years. All the other pilots are ex-captains as well. The manoeuvres take place at any time day or night and vary a lot from port to port. In Fremantle we have to be pushed and pulled by three tugs to the quay due to strong winds.

 

 

The Routine

 

Soon I get into the routine and go upstairs to the bridge for sunrise and sunset in order to watch the colours and clouds. I find the passage very calm indeed and it is only later on that I am being told that we are not on the open sea yet, but still in sea straits. For the meals I get to the mess on time. For breakfast we get eggs in all varieties, and twice a day meat, accompanied by salad and veggies. Later I will ask Victor to reduce the quantities and possibly to skip the meat.

 

In the morning I sit with my books on the bridge. This is the sunniest and warmest spot on the ship. If there is a little complaint, it is because of the rather cool cabin and of course I cannot open the hatch to let in the warm tropical air. I work myself through my Latin and once my head starts spinning I go for my little morning walk: this is 200 m both ways and 7 storeys up and down. Diligently I go on my photosafari and do form and colour studies.

 

After lunch I allow myself a little siesta, which got a little out of hand in the beginning. I still was rather tired from my China-adventures. The hours flow slowly but I do enjoy the gentleness of time, to shed all hectic and to dwell in moments and memories. My mind can rest with things and thoughts. A wonderful experience. In the afternoon I can watch DVD’s in the officers’ lounge. The captain lent me his collection of movies, with some very interesting political documentaries and I refuelled my DVD stock in China.

 

At the beginning of the trip I received a security instruction by the 3rd officer, but his rather imaginative English only leaves me to guess what he is actually telling me. I decide that during my stay on this ship it must not sink. In the cabin I also find a longish list, wherein I learn that upon abandonship  I have to get to the life boat No.1 and in case of all other calamities (fire, collision, grounding, pollution, man over board, spill of chemicals) I am requested to go to the bridge and await instruction: „Stand-by in the bridge in orderly manner and wait for further instruction“. As a dumb female I will have to concentrate on the „orderly manner“.....

 

Around the third day we get from the straits onto the open sea. The first time I actually get a hint of the wave, which is still rather subtle, but fairly high. The second officer informs me that for the last three months the sea was not as quiet as that. When I tell him that this must be because of me, he only looks at me quizzically...

 

After Fremantle we ship around Cape Leeuwin and in the middle of the night I wake up because of heavy beats on the ship’s side. It is only with difficulty that I find sleep again. After breakfast I get definitely sick and fall back into bed. I do sleep a few hours and that was the last I feel regarding seasickness.

 

Observations

 

Already on the first morning I see a dolphin almost attacking the shipside. It does look like a dramatic suicide attempt, but I guess he is only coming around for a small early snack. The next morning I see a smallish bird jumping out of the water and flying some distance. While I am still wondering what bird I could associate the shape with, I do realise that the “bird” in fact is a flying fish.

 

After some days we do pass the exploded remains of the once huge volcano Krakatau and I get an impression of how huge the explosion must have been that tore this volcano apart in 1883. Today only three small islands are left. We are now in the reception range of Djakarta and the officers try with their mobiles to get or send a few SMS. Soon we are completely cut off from all communications again.

 

After a few hours – already a long distance in the open sea – a bird flies alongside the ship and keeps the pace for quite some time. The ship has a speed of about 20 knots (1 knot = 1 nautical mile) and I cannot imagine how this bird could keep up the speed let alone how far he has already flown.

 

Besides this, I see whales eating their lunch – a fascinating spectacle - and watch a group of about 30-40 dolphins chasing towards the ship and often jumping out of the water simultaneously. While anchoring in Melbourne’s port Philip bay I do see a brown shadow in the water: seals.

 

Sometimes we see another ship on the radar, but all of this is very far. This is different in the Sunda Strait: there is rush hour and when I ask what this shabby little freighter could be the answer is: maybe pirates. When I react with disbelief, the officer shows me diverse telex-warnings concerning attacks on freighters. I am rather surprised though, that the pirates rather aim at the possessions of the crew than at the cargo.

 

 

The Officers

 

I have little dealings with the seamen. When they meet me in the hallways or on deck, I am being greeted with a friendly „Hi Ma’am“ but of course they have to work and have no time for longer conversations. The engineers I only see at mealtimes, some of them are exceedingly shy Phillippinos who give a friendly greeting but hardly dare to speak to me. As far as the Chief Engineer goes I have only seen his back – because he sits with his back towards me. But even with the captain – his meal-mate –he does not talk to during meals. Only the third officer tries to do some small talk with me. One Russian discusses freely with me, also about politics. He is a young man and I am rather impressed with his level of education. Another officer exercises English vocabulary in idle hours, which might explain, why he hardly answers my greeting in the morning. How big my surprise, when one day he addresses me in the most distinguished English I’ve ever heard! This guy probably only speaks when he masters the language to perfection!

 

I am rather impressed with these men. Not talkative, but whenever concerned with work they get into lengthy and intensive discussions. However there is never a loud or unruly word. What I can observe is the utmost professionalism and quietness. This kind of job probably requires loners to do it and all of them probably need a good measure of distance even at home, but day by day I grow more and more fond of them all.

 

There is no chit-chat on board and therefore I have only heard form one officer about his family and the young electronic engineer told me about parents, brother and (almost) girl-friend.

 

 

The Ship

 

The manoeuvring happened almost solely at night that means the work is done when necessary. Before arriving at Melbourne we are told that we have to throw anchor first because of rush hour. Again a pilot comes on board, this time in a kind of Sherlock Holmes’ look. In fact he is English and has been living in Australia for many years. The Captain does not permit me to go to the fore to watch the anchoring: too dangerous.

 

Again we have a number of delays the following day.  All this is being borne with stoicism. Only once I hear the captain discuss on the phone if this or that time-window can be kept. This young man has a huge responsibility for the ship and its cargo. With the utmost precision he gives his instructions. At one time he even corrects the pilot who reacts with thanks.

 

Our ship is called the Theodor Storm – after a famous German poet - and follows a regular route from Singapore, Fremantle, Melbourne, Adelaide, Malaysia and back again to Singapore. This time she will go to Tasmania on an exceptional errand. If only I had known....

Everything is big and gigantesque on board: the ropes, the chains, and the machinery. But all is kept with utmost cleanliness. The ship is being cleaned constantly and everything is very tidy. Even the machinery looks like an operating theatre for giants. The mess-rooms are not to be entered in working clothes and so the men have a shower before meals.

 

 

The end of the trip

 

Upon entrance into Melbourne harbour we have to pass through a canal and there it happens twice that the boat has actually to horn loudly: almost-collisions with tourist boats. This is the only time where I see the captain shake his head.

 

This is also the only manoeuvre I can observe by daylight. The quarantine officer comes on board followed by a short friendly palaver with customs. The Australians are indeed easy-going. Since it is already evening I am allowed to stay on board for another night. The next morning my luggage gets checked most thoroughly and now I could actually get off. Well, that is not so very simple. I’m not allowed to walk within the harbour and am supposed to be picked up by a shuttle-bus.  Human cargo cannot simply be hauled away.

 

After two cups of tea the bus is here. With nostalgia I say good-bye to the ship and my men.

 

 

 

 

 

(In fond memory of Alexis: seaman, fisherman and beloved uncle, whom I thought of all along this trip)

 

In the red circle: really a dolphin!

Ex-Volcano Krakatau

Captain and pilot keeping an attentive eye upon entrance into Melbourne harbour

The police grabs the unruly tourists

Customs on board