Mortal Enemies

Superman had Lex Luther.

Optimus Prime had Megatron (because the latest movie installment is currently in theaters, so it’s topical).

Aquaman had Black Manta (because it’s nautical, so it’s always topical).

For me, it’s Corpus Christi, TX.

It’s like a broken record.

Or deja vu.

Perhaps you have heard, I don’t like Corpus Christi.

We have become mortal enemies. Arch nemesis. Arch enemies.

We just don’t get along.

At all.

Crew change was rapidly approaching. We were just wrapping up another job and were more than content with a quick trip to Port Arthur, TX. Or just heading out to anchor and sitting there until the launch boat approached with our reliefs.

Then the phone rang. Stupid phone.

Off to Corpus we go for the next job. Wave goodbye to a nice ride to one of the Houston airports for a direct flight home. Nothing flies direct to CRP. And that is where our problems began.

We had done everything in our power to make crew change go smooth. We had arrived at the sea buoy with plenty of time to spare. Made it up the channel and safely into our loading berth with just the right amount of time to go. Not too early, not too late. But just right.

Not a bad representation.

 A quick nap. A quick clean up.  A quick shower. And we would be on our way to the always-closed Corpus Christi Airport to await our early morning flights home. But, this is Corpus. Even when things are going perfectly, they aren’t going perfectly. Enter the non-direct flights to Corpus.

Corpus is a tiny airport. Therefore, only tiny planes fly into Corpus. The big airlines use tiny planes to shuttle people from their big hub airports to the tiny airports. So, you need to fly to a hub airport and then on to your tiny destination in the tiny plane. Essentially, more steps lead to more chances of things getting screwed up. And since this IS Corpus we are talking about, any chance to get crew change screwed up is a bad thing.

Enter Dallas/Fort Worth airport. The hub that I now love to hate.

The oncoming crew (part of it) got stuck in Dallas. Pretty sure it was weather delays. Honestly, it doesn’t matter. It could have been that the airport was under attack from flying monkeys with laser beams on their heads. Point being, more than half of the oncoming crew was stuck in Dallas and we were stuck in Corpus. And we weren’t going anywhere until our reliefs were on the boat in Corpus. Salty swear words were thrown about.

So the other half of the crew (the ones whose reliefs actually made it to crew change) waved goodbye. I didn’t wave back. For one, I was pissed that we were stuck on the boat. Again. Another reason for the lack of waving is that I was too busy making phone calls in order to get everyone in and out through port security. Claims of not having the required list of the crew members going on/off (a.k.a. Gate List) was holding up the oncoming crew. So they asked if I could fax them a list. Fax? Really? Do I look like I have a Delorean powered by 1.21 Gigawatts of power on the stern of the boat? Is this 1985? How about an email?

October 26, 1985 to be exact.

Then the driver said he didn’t have any orders to take the off going crew members to the airport. For some reason he was under the impression that a ‘crew change’ just means that new people show up and we discard the old crew members with the trash. Or something as equally as stupid as that. So I got to wake up some more people with phone calls at midnight and ruin their day just as much as mine had been. Then, to add insult to injury, port security then said they didn’t have a gate list of the off going crew members. Which is odd, considering that the list that I had just faxed emailed to security had a list of BOTH oncoming and off-going crew names.

Apparently, all is well that ends well, because a few hours later I got a picture of one of the recent escapees sampling a beverage at the now open CRP airport. Bastards!

Now remember the part where we had arrived with just the right amount of time? Not too little, not too much? Well when the other crew is going to arrive at the boat 12 hours late and it takes less time than that for the barge to get loaded and ready to sail we have a new set of issues. It was a real possibility that we would be gone and the other crew would still be on their way from Dallas. Crew change isn’t good for your blood pressure. Amazingly, the terminal said we could stay until our reliefs showed up. Amazingly, our company said we could stay until our reliefs showed up. Amazingly, our charterer said we could stay until our reliefs showed up. It was a trifecta of relief, literally and figuratively. Or maybe it’s just that people will agree to just about anything when you wake them up at midnight.

Twelve hours late, we finally headed to our least favorite airport. Where we had to wait another 4 hours for our first flight of the day. At least we got to watch the US Men’s National Team in the World Cup. Which none of us could care less about.

True story.

Full disclosure: I played soccer all through high school and in college. I still enjoy playing soccer to this day. However, I can’t stand watching the professional game. There is not enough offense and the dramatic faking of injuries is abysmal. I have absolutely no patience for it. I feel like I should care more about it. But I don’t.

More my speed.

So we watched (kind of) the game. But, in fairness, the bartender was more fun to look at than futbol match. We had lunch. A beverage or two. Or more. And waited for our flights. Then we waited some more at the next airport (remember, no direct flights from CRP). Had dinner. A beverage or two. Or more. Watched the highlight/lowlights of the soccer game. And then headed for home.

I got home just before midnight. 24 hours from the time that I was supposed to be off the boat.

Corpus Christi is my mortal enemy.

If this keeps up, I’ll need to design a superhero suit.

No capes!

Excrement Happens

Previously in this blog we discussed the Rules ofTugboats. Mysteriously (mysterious mainly due to the fact that I was the one who came up with the list of the rules) not included were two rules which I feel are quite important.

1.       “Never let your maximum draft exceed the minimum depth of water.”

Which is really just a fancy way of saying, “Don’t run aground.”

Also left off the list was,

2.       “Never occupy the exact same space at the exact same time as another vessel.”

More simplistically stated, “Don’t hit anyone.”

That’s just good advice. On both accounts.

Unfortunately, sometimes…

Shit happens!

Our current assignment has us traveling in and out of Lake Charles, Louisiana. For the last few years there has been a ship moored alongside the channel that didn’t follow the rules. More specifically, it didn’t follow the, “Don’t hit anyone” rule. The effects of not following that particular rule are quite apparent. And not good.

Here is the story as told by one of the maritime trade websites:

“A general cargo ship was severely damaged early Saturday after being involved in a major collision with a reefer ship in the Caribbean Sea. The collision occurred early Saturday between the 557-foot U.K-flagged M/V Seagate (pictured) and the 492-foot Liberian-flagged M/V Timor Stream off the northeast coast of Tortuga, Haiti.”
And here is the crazy part…
“Amazingly, no one was injured.”
Amazing would be an understatement. As the pictures clearly show.

Almost missed. Almost.

A perfect impression of another ship's bow.

Now for my pictures

As she looked about a year ago

That's a BIG hole.

A little bit of elbow grease and that will buff right out.

Physics and momentum at work.

As you can imagine, that type of damage is not an easy fix. In fact, there is to be no fix to this ship at all. Our recent trips in and out of Lake Charles have shown us what happens to a ship that has been totaled by the insurance company. It started with the cargo gear. Then moved back to the super structure.  Now the hull is quickly disappearing before our eyes every time we pass by. Pretty soon the M/V Seagate will be no more.

Starting its new life as a washing machine or refrigerator.

Still a BIG hole in it.

Little shorter than it used to be.

It’s not all bad news. Like we said before, no one was injured.
And in short time the Gillette Company will be producing their newest shaving implement.
Most likely completed with razors made out of the steel from the former M/V Seagate.   

Wahooooooo!!!

We suck at fishing. That’s not just a statement. That is a FACT. We suck at fishing.

It’s not always go-go-go onboard a tugboat. There are weather delays. Berthing delays. Cargo supply delays. And sometimes they just don’t have anything for us to do. 

So in order to pass the time when we are at anchor, we sometimes throw a hook into the water and see what happens to bite it.

Most of the time, it’s nothing. 

The Redneck happens to have his own personal fishing rod and reel aboard the boat. Strike that…HAD his own personal fishing rod and reel aboard the boat. Right now it is somewhere at the bottom of the ocean attached to some unsuspecting fish who was just looking for a quick bite to eat.

Turns out, you should actually pay attention to what you are doing when you are fishing and have a line in the water. Even though we suck at fishing, even the blind mouse sometimes finds the cheese. Or if you prefer a furry tailed rodent, even a blind squirrel finds a nut every now and then. Case in point, even this motley crew of idiots can catch an unsuspecting fish every once and a while. Problem is, when you catch a fish and it takes off with the hook in it’s mouth, you really should be holding onto the fishing rod. Otherwise, said fish, will take the whole rod/reel/line/hook/bait straight down to the bottom of the ocean with him if you don’t provide some sort of resistance. Which is exactly what happened. When fishing, you are supposed to be relaxed, at one with nature, kicking back and enjoying life and some downtime. Not screwing around on your misnamed smart phone. So last hitch we were down one fishing pole.

This trip, coming in for crew change, our misguided and easily distracted fisherman, purchased the Redneck a new fishing pole. Apparently, along with the new fishing pole came not just an extended warranty, but a bit of good luck. Seems you have to sacrifice a random fishing pole to the depths of Davey Jones’s Locker every now and then in order to catch fish.

Our orders were to sail from Corpus and head over to The River. For those unfamiliar, much like The City refers to New York City, The River refers to the mighty Mississippi River. Even if you live near a city or near a river, just saying, “Let’s go to the city” or “Let’s go down to the river” just doesn’t mean the same thing. The City is the Big Apple. The River is Big Muddy. It just is. Deal with it.

Anyways, so we were headed to The River. The trip takes approximately 2 days to go from Point A to Point B. Once again, we thought that we should once again try our luck and to throw out a line with a hook tied to it to see if we could catch something/anything with scales on it. When you suck at fishing, you aren’t too picky.

Midway into the second day of the trip, the phone in the wheelhouse rang. Naturally, I answered it.

“FISH ON!” Screamed the overly excited voice on the other end of the phone.

Wait?...What?!... “Fish on”? Never have those words ever been announced on this boat.

A quick spin around to look out the aft windows of the wheelhouse indeed confirmed the excited announcement. 

We had actually caught a fish!

Mongo. For the ladies.

So pretty. And delicious.

I have no idea how long the fish happened to be on the line before it was discovered. All I know is that it didn’t put up much of a fight when it was getting pulled in. Who cares! We had caught a fish!

A nice one too.

A second call to the wheelhouse confirmed exactly what we all had waited these many long years to hear, “We aren’t having pork chops tonight!”

I suggested that we write on the chalkboard something along the lines of, “Today’s Fresh Catch of the Day”

We were like giddy little school girls. We had caught a fish!

Two hours later, the fish had gone “from bait, to plate” (Nice, right? Feel free to use that one)

So called, “fresh” fish, at the supermarket had nothing on this one. Even “fresh” fish that you can buy down at the fishing piers had nothing on this one.

THIS was FRESH fish.

It was like angels frolicking on your taste buds.

It was the best “Fish Friday” we had ever had on the boat.

Once again, we are headed out to sea. Once again, we are headed through the area where we FINALLY caught a fish. Once again, we will have our lines out in the hopes that something with scales takes the bait. We all have our fingers crossed.

If we don’t catch anything, I’m planning on throwing a rod and reel overboard.

Hey, it worked once already.

Arts and Crafts

It took a while to write this post because I couldn’t move my hands. 

It’s usually a cold day in hell when people declare, “I’m ready to go back to work.”

But that is exactly what I proclaimed the other day. (I would immediately regret that statement as soon as we crew changed in Corpus Christi. HUGELY regret it.)

My wife likes to do art and crafts type stuff. So much so that she likes to write blog posts about it. Who knew?

It’s also topical, because we refer to our mandatory weekly chart corrections on the boat as “arts and crafts”. The more you know…

Sometimes her arts and crafts projects get me involved. Which is just a really nice way of saying that she makes me do arts and crafts type stuff. Which usually involves me designing and printing a t-shirt for her and her friends. Usually at the absolute very last minute.

I would have gladly designed a t-shirt for her this time home had I know what kind of arts and crafts she had planned for me this time home.

In reality, it wasn’t artsy. Or crafty. It was a full on construction project.

It started with a picture on Pinterest.

Helpful tip: If your wives/girlfriends/significant others haven’t discovered  Pinterest yet, now would be a REALLY good time to block access to that particular website. It’s empowering. It’s dangerous. It will lead to people trying things that they have absolutely no business trying to do. It will drain your bank account. It will lead to frustration. And in my case, it will lead to wanting to invest in Advil (Again. Still).

There was a picture of a very simple pergola on a free standing deck.

The offending picture.

Simple. Classy. Easy.

You may now insert maniacal laughter and calls of, “Don’t do it, stupid!”

Alas, you would be too late.

I don’t do simple.

Big. Better. Faster. Jeremy Clarkson screaming, “More power!” is my kind of project.

It’s also going to lead to my downfall. Or, at the very least, reliance on pain pills.

I was at work, so on my down time, I naturally took a simple design and made it all mine.

Sketches were sketched. Lists were compiled. Designs were laid out. Lumber and fasteners were priced out.  Locations and dimensions were all planned out. It was all very OCD. It was my kind of plan. I preplanned everything so that when I got home I would be ready to rock and roll with my arts and crafts.

And then my plan fell apart.

Somewhere along the line(and I’m not sure where this happened) my plan for doing a very nice free standing pergola in the backyard turned into doing TWO pergola’s in the backyard.

When they built our new house, they poured a very plain, very boring, concrete patio in the backyard. It wasn’t inviting. It wasn’t functional. It was a concrete pad. It needed to be changed. It needed arts and crafts. It needed construction. It needed a pergola.

But that’s not the pergola I had preplanned. It wasn’t the one I had drawn up plans for. Or the one I had cleared the woods in the backyard weeks before. That pergola happened to be a completely separate and completely different one.

So my pergola project, turned into pergola projects.

Obviously, more preplanning was going to be needed. So back to the drawing board I went.

I now had plans for two pergolas. I had twice as much wood. Twice as many nails, screws, lag bolts, washers, and assorted fasteners. Twice as many posts, stringers, headers, footers, and other construction type names for all my assorted wood products.  I also had 1200 pounds of concrete. The problem was (one of many), I had no way to get it to my house without 3,682 trips to the store.

Enter the nice people at the Lowe's Corporation.

For a mere $59 they would deliver everything that I needed to complete my pergola (now pergolas) project right to my front door. SEND IT! And when I happened to forget a few things (82 pieces of decking, actually)and called back very early the next morning to try to add it to my order, they had no problem helping me out. In less than 2 days, Lowe's took my order, fixed my order, gave me a discount, and delivered all of my arts and crafts supplies straight to my driveway. On a Sunday, no less. And earlier than they had expected. All in all, a well spent $59. Well done, Lowe's. Well done.

Sidebar: Lowe's Home Improvement World Headquarters is located in my town. Just a hop skip and a jump down the road. I think they were just nice to me just knowing that a 5 minute car ride would put me right on their front door. Instead, I may just visit them and tell them what an outstanding job they had done.

Lumber staging area

So I had wood. Lots of wood. And a plan. Two plans, actually.

The only thing I needed now to make this project even better was unseasonably hot temperatures to work in. Which I got. All week. I didn’t even have to pay extra for that. 

Another helpful tip: Buy sunblock. A lot of it. And actually use it.

It took me 3 days to build the first pergola on the concrete patio. It took another 2 days just to paint the thing.

Work in progress on pergola #1

Then I started on pergola #2. It took a while to get the posts set in concrete just the way I wanted them. Then more time to get everything level and just right. I was shooting to have pergola #2 be 24 feet long from end post to end post. It was 24 feet and 1/8 of an inch. Good enough for Government work!

Nice and straight

I wasn’t able to complete pergola #2. I still have to pour some more concrete and construct the built-in fire pit. But I made pretty good progress. Especially considering how difficult digging the post holes in stubbornly hard Carolina red clay is. And how bruised my shoulders are. And how scratched up my arms and legs are. And the fact that I couldn’t fully close my hands for 3 days. And the toll that working in 90 degree temperatures all week took.

Advil and ice water were my best friends.

And then I did something incredibly stupid. Even stupider than trying to build two pergolas on my time off. 

I said that I was ready to go back to work.

Now that I'm at work, I want to go back home again. And build a pergola. I'll even do it in 100 degree temperatures. I'll even build one for my wife's friends. 

Or did I just say something really stupid again?

I think I'm detecting a pattern. 

Now that I look at it, that pergola looks NOTHING like the Pinterest picture. Oh well.

Pergola #1. The finished project.