January 27, 2017
“I marvel at the range of hull shapes I see as we go along, from barges to the small square-ish tugs pushing the barges.”
By: Karen Campbell
We are at anchor outside of New York. Yesterday was spent discharging some cargo onto a barge, so the ship’s draft isn’t too deep for the next stage of our journey. It’s 2:45 am and I’ve just wandered onto the bridge after waking up before my alarm. Third officer is surprised to see me, and tells me that the pilot’s actually coming at 4:30, and not 3 like I thought. The representative from the oil company who’s onboard to oversee the cargo transfer operations appears as well. The night cityscape skyline is really quite pretty. There is rain falling. Rain, or perhaps snow, based on how it swirls around in the floodlights on the bridge. A ship goes by. I go back to sleep.
At 4:05 am, I wake again, and get out of bed before I fall back asleep by accident. I put on my fleece-lined pants, sweater, down vest, and ski jacket. Being out of bed this early is easier if I still feel cozy. The bridge is now occupied by the third engineer plus the crew member who’s also on watch. He is also surprised to see me and offers coffee. They have pulled the curtains out for night navigation. A car carrier goes by. Maybe ten minutes later a containership goes by. Both heading into harbour. A smaller ship equipped with a couple cranes also goes by.
At 4:40 a tug arrives with the pilot. The Captain and I watch from the bridge wing with our hoods up. The Captain comments on the old age of the tugs, but that they seem to be doing the job just fine. He tells me that there are a good number of women pilots – in Houston of all places. The pilot comes on board.
Our vessel handles pretty nicely, the pilot tells us when he hears I’m a naval architecture student. He says there are some really nice-handling ships from Korea, and that he wished they just kept making those models, and that the people who designed the ships should talk more with the people who use them.
“the Verezano bridge cast a mesmerizing moving checkerboard of reflected lights on the wet red deck of our ship”
By 4:50 there are two tugs spinning us. It takes ten minutes or so to turn the ship ~180°. The bright lights lining the suspension cables of the Verezano bridge cast a mesmerizing moving checkerboard of reflected lights on the wet red deck of our ship as we spin. The flat red deck is actually slightly curved/concave between the grid of stiffeners welded on its underside. The pattern looses its purple effect and disappears into light and dark when the deck floodlights are switched off.
By this point we’re heading roughly towards the Statue of Liberty. The Captain and Pilot are discussing the routines at Seminary between commands like ‘dead slow ahead’ ’20 to port’ ‘slow ahead’ ‘steady’, given by the pilot, repeated by the captain, and confirmed by the helmsman.
By 5:35 the sky is starting to get lighter. Our pilot easily navigates the channel turns, branches, and current. We keep Staten Island to our left. I realize why pilots are paid well. The amateur boater’s ‘red-right-return’ rule of thumb doesn’t quite cut it here – these navigational buoys clearly follow a much more refined system. At this point we are travelling at 6.7 knots according to the GPS, and just over 7 log speed.
We approach a bridge that is under construction to increase its height so it can accommodate ships with greater air draft. The pilot points out the large structures used to lower the new sections in place. He asks me, ‘the architect’, how it would work. I have no idea, or rather too many, but wander out onto the wing to take a better look and take photos so I can look it up with my dad (a civil engineer) when I get the chance.
The next point of interest is a huge container port off to our starboard side. We’re told it can be a tricky turn when piloting ships there and that it’s been busy non-stop the past few days. I think of all the containerships I’ve seen going in and out of harbour and believe it.
“it’s amazing that it’s a normal thing for massive ships like ours to navigate in what seems like such tight channels”
I marvel at the range of hull shapes I see as we go along, from barges to the small square-ish tugs pushing the barges. The proximity to them all is also a change from being on the open ocean, and it’s kind of amazing that it’s a normal thing for massive ships like ours to navigate in what seems like such tight channels. The Captain points out the scant meter or two of clearance we have as we pass under the last bridge to our destination.
Not long after, the pilot joins us on the bridge wing – we are coming alongside the berth at the Bayway refinery terminal. Each wing has a set of dials showing rudder angle and engine speed. The crew is waiting on deck with the mooring lines ready. The pilot continues calling the shots through a handheld until we arrive.
Karen Campbell is a naval architecture and marine engineering (M.Eng.) student at the University of British Columbia. She completed her bachelors in Mechanical Engineering at Queen’s University. She recently had the opportunity to go onboard one of our conventional crude vessels, the MT Australian Spirit. Over the course of 13 days, she had a front seat view at a vessel in action once it left the shipyard – and also got a glimpse into what life is like at sea. This series is a collection of essays about her experience. We hope you follow along as she talks about touring the ballast tanks, mealtimes, work-life balance, community and family onboard, social activities, living on a tanker, and being in the bridge while sailing into port. Read more about Karen’s experience: