Folding Paper

Seems simple enough.

Heck, even the Origami stuff looks relatively easy. But we aren't talking about Origami or making paper airplanes. 

We are talking about trying to fold brand spankin’ new nautical charts. Which sucks. And isn't easy. And isn't simple. Did I mention it sucks?

Chart #11309 Corpus Christi Bay

For the less than nautically inclined, nautical charts are maps of the ocean. But they aren't maps. They are charts. They are the same thing. Except that they aren't. Maps are for roads, charts are for the water. See, in the maritime world we have a lot of different names for things that already have names. Keeps the non mariners from really understanding what is really going on. Walls are bulkheads, floors are decks, ceiling are overheads, port is left, and starboard is right. The list goes on and on. So, maps are charts and new ones suck.

As a general rule, I have no issue with charts. It's just the new ones that are the subject of my ire. Every week the Feds come out with a list of corrections we have to do our to our chart portfolio. Buoys get moved. New navigation lights get put up or taken down. Changes in the hydrography. And of course, wrecks happen. And all the changes have to get put down on the chart in order to make sure the information is as current and as accurate as possible. So every week we get to do "Arts and Crafts" on the boat. We get to use markers, colored pencils, tape, scissors, rub on transfer sheets, and stickers. It's all very preschool. But every now and then there are enough changes over the years to a particular area that a new chart is issued. Now you would think that a brand new chart would be nice. You would be wrong.

Arts and Crafts. Nautical version.

I hate new charts. Hate them. Not as much as I hate Corpus Christi, TX. But it’s definitely right up there.

To begin with, your old tired beat up chart had all of your courses laid out. It had all of your distances and average speeds put down. You had all kinds of notes and hints and local knowledge of the area written in the margins. Areas to avoid and good holding anchorage spots were meticulously maintained on that old chart. A new chart has none of that. And the only way to keep that information updated is to break out the pens, colored pencils, and highlighters and transfer it all onto the new chart. But that isn't really my biggest gripe. The thing that irks me the most about brand new nautical charts is folding them. How could folding a piece of paper into a couple of squares be so difficult? First of all, have you ever tried folding a circle into a square? Yeah, not so easy.

Our new charts come to the boat all rolled up in the tightest cylinder ever made possible by machines.

Then the charts sit in this nice tight cylindrical form for about 2 months so the paper builds up a very nice memory of its current shape. The mere act of trying to get this paper from a circle to a square is where the paper and I no longer are friends. 

Six charts. Rolled up nice and tight.

The more I try to unroll the chart and make it lay flat, the more it rolls itself back up and mocks me. I've tried rolling it up the opposite direction. I've tried leaving it alone unrolled for a week in high humidity. I've let them hang over the wheelhouse railings to let gravity do some of the work. I've tried leaning both of my arms on it, putting books at the corners, using a ruler to straighten out the edges. I think I've tried just about every method ever known to mariners. I even contemplated just leaving them for the other crew. And since they are paper, where would you be without the mandatory paper cut somewhere along the way. Needless to say, new charts and I just don't get along.

Unrolled. And rolled right back up again.

Perfect!

 After a tirade infused 15 minutes of fighting with a piece of paper, it’s one chart down, 12 more to go. It’s going to be a long afternoon.

I WILL CRUSH YOU !!!  Put the new charts under a giant stack of old charts and let them sit and think about what they have done for a week before even thinking about touching them again.

Time Flies

Many, many tides ago.

Ten years ago I was working for a different tugboat company moving aggregate (which is just a fancy way of saying ‘rocks and dirt’) all around the Northeast. We were headed up the Hudson River with a couple of empty barges to meet up with another tug. They were coming down the river with a couple of loaded barges.  Somewhere along the line we were going to meet up so that we could swap out the light barges for the loaded barges and then turn around and head back in our respective directions from hence we had come from.

It was 1:30 in the morning, I was steering the boat and had just passed under the Bear Mountain Bridge, when my cell phone rang.

Now we all know that nothing good can ever come from a phone call after 9PM. No one from Publisher’s Clearing House ever wakes you up at Zero Dark Thirty to tell you that you had just won $1 million a year for life. Ever.

However, my wife was expecting our first child at the time. And even though we had just gone to the doctor’s the day before, where he assured us that it was safe for me to go back to work because it didn’t look as though our child was ready to join us quite yet, I had a feeling that this phone call was to inform me that that wasn’t the case.  I was hoping that my wife was just calling to see how things we going because she had woken up and couldn’t fall back to sleep. I was wrong.

“My water just broke.”

Bam!

There it is folks. Straight to the point.

Now even though this was our first child. And even though I didn’t attend medical school. And even though I didn’t stay at a Holiday Inn Express. I knew that when the levy breaks, the kid is coming. Whether you happen to be away from home working on a tugboat, or not.

“Don’t worry. I talked to the doctor and he said we have plenty of time and that everything is fine. I’m just going to pack up some things and head down to the hospital. When can you get off the boat?”

First thing, the doctor (who had said the day before we had plenty of time) was now assuring us we had plenty of time. Again.

Secondly, it’s 1:30 in the morning. I’m headed up the Hudson River. I just can’t hope off the boat and drive home. No one is in the office to find me a relief. No one will even be in the office for at least another 6 hours. Logistically speaking, I’m going to need plenty of time.

Unfortunately, I had plenty of time. To sit there and try and figure out how I was going to be able to make this work. It was a LONG night of standing watch.

Just before 0600 the Captain came up to relieve me. I needed to be relieved. Even another phone call from my wife saying she was at the hospital, everything was good, and she was going to take a nap wasn’t a relief.

“We gotta get you out of here”, was the Captain’s first words after relaying the tale of my stress filled night to him. Which was sweet music to my ears and, finally, a bit of a relief.

As soon as the Port Captain was in the office, the boat Captain was on the phone with him.

They arranged that someone from the office was going to drive up to wherever the boat happened to be to pick me up and take me back so I could pick up my car and head to the hospital. Problem #1 solved. Problem #2 was a bit more complicated. How was I going to get off the boat? The Hudson River doesn’t have a lot of options as far as just showing up with a couple of barges and landing at someone’s dock. Luckily, we just happened to be located just off one of the stone (aggregate) terminals. At this particular terminal the barges are moored offshore. Then a small shifting tug comes out to pick up an empty barge and brings it into the terminal to be loaded. Once loaded, the shifting tug takes the loaded barge back out to the mooring in the river, where a larger tug takes the tow of multiple barges down river to their final destination. As it were, the shifting tug was just starting the day’s work. A quick call over the VHF radio and the guys on the small tug were more than willing to give a desperate guy like me a quick ride into the dock.

A BIG ‘Thank You’ goes out to those guys. I really appreciated it.

They even sent a truck down to the dock to pick me up and take me back to the terminal’s office to await my ride.

That is where things kind of fell apart.

 I phoned the office to let them know that I had made it off the boat and was awaiting my ride at the office of the stone dock. It was then that I learned that my ride had taken a detour on the way to pick me up. A delivery had to be made in The City. New York City, that is. Anyone that is familiar with The City knows that first thing in the morning traffic is a complete and total disaster. My ride was nowhere to be found. And wouldn’t be anywhere to be found for quite some time. My once solved Problem #1 was once again a Problem. And a HUGE one at that. Especially when I called my wife’s phone at the hospital and my neighbor (who had accompanied my wife to the hospital in my absence) answered with, “Where are you?!” Judging by her tone, my “plenty of time” was running out. Quickly. 

Once again, the people at the stone dock were more than willing to help. Back into the truck we went and off to the nearest car rental office we sped.

As we pulled into the local Enterprise Rent-a-Car office, a sales person had just finished checking in a dropped off car. As I jumped out of the still moving truck he astutely asked, “Can I help you, sir?”

“I need a car. I need it now. I don’t care what kind of car it is or how much it costs. I need one NOW.”

“Umm. Okay. Is there a problem?”

“My wife is having our first baby and I would kind of like to be there for it.”

I can only assume that the initially very confused sales person also happened to be a father himself. Because all of a sudden he shifted into high gear and he couldn’t do things fast enough even for his own liking.

“Tommy (or whatever the name of the guy working there was)! Get that car we just checked in back out in front! Now! “

“Do you want the insurance?”

“Honestly, I don’t care. But I’m going to go with ‘yes’ since I’m going to beat the shit out of this car trying to get to the hospital in time,” was my reply.

“Noted. Generally we do a walk around to make sure everything is okay before you rent a car. But you need to get out of here. So everything is fine. Here are the keys. Good luck.”

And with a quick nod and a firm hand shake, I peeled out of the car rental parking lot laying down a patch of rubber that would make the employees of the Goodyear Tire Company smile.

I terrorized the back roads of New York State. I found the entrance to the highway and floored it.

Fun Fact: A 2004 Chevy Aveo rental car can do in excess of 115 miles per hour.

Another fun fact: Said Chevy Aveo also has very good brakes. As when you are doing 115 mph and see a NY State Trooper on the side of the road it is best not to go by him doing triple digits.

The 1.6 Liter, 103 hp Monster of the Road!

I exited NY and screamed in NJ. I was making good time. Then the phone rang.

“Where are you?” was my neighbors query, in a much more subdued tone than our previous conversation.

“I’m 15 minutes out!”

“Slow down. Your son is adorable.”

So slow down I did. To 100 mph.

I pulled into the hospital parking lot 14 ½ minutes later. For some reason the entire lot was full. Not a space to be found. Anywhere. So I pulled the car rather haphazardly into the only kind-of sort-of open space that was available. Up onto the grass median strip it went, where I unceremoniously left it. It was, after all, a rental car.

To be honest, this isn't that far from the truth.

I sprinted across the parking lot and into the hospital lobby, where there was a very nice group of 3 elderly ladies at the front desk.

“Can I help you, sir?” asked one of them.

“Yes. I just missed the birth of my son. Could you please direct me to which floor they would be on.”

And with that one statement, I’m fairly sure I ruined every single one of those very nice ladies day. Inadvertently, of course. You could just see the disappointment in their faces. I felt kind of bad.

They directed me around the corner to a bank of elevators and off I went.

My neighbor was right. My son was adorable.

The hospital gives you a small blue and white button inscribed with “It’s a boy!” Which, I dutifully wore around the hospital for the following days.

It seemed to help to spark conversation among the staff and some of the new parents.

However, while answering certain questions about my newborn son, when I happened to mention that I had missed his birth, people’s eyes would light up and they would point and declare, “You’re the tugboat guy!”

And so it went for the next two days.

I was “The Tugboat Guy” to everyone. Including, complete strangers who had been told the tale by someone in the hospital. Probably those poor nice old ladies whose day I had ruined at the front desk.

Later on, after all the dust had settled, I just happened to check the paperwork for the car rental. As it were, I completed the paperwork at 09:59. My son was born at 09:57. I was standing at a car rental counter in Haverstraw, NY when my son was born.

My son just turned 10 the other day. I was home for his birthday. I would have preferred to be home for his birth.

I’m not sure if it qualifies me for “Dad of the Year” status. But it sure makes for an interesting story.

Such is the life of a mariner.

Either way…

Happy Birthday to my Lil’ Binky Booter!

Time sure does fly by.

Just before his 1st Birthday.

Handsome young man.

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.