Ships are known for pampering and spoiling their pax. An over-abundance of food; a full
“what’s happening” program of activity; heavily-promoted and tempting sales for
those who shop (not us); evening entertainments;
casino; lectures, leisure around the Lido pool and for those who desire, a Spa. However all
the time this activity unfolds, there is another reality taking place aboard
ship: the challenges of the elements
faced by officers and crew on the Bridge. The Captain on our recent
sailing, Master Albert Schoonderbeek, has his own Blog, sharing some of this
other reality. Here are some excerpts:
Henri with Captain Schoonderbeek
April 14 (at sea) “We got
the full brunt of the Caribbean Sea winds. Normally called the Trade Winds but
this went beyond what a Trade Wind is supposed to be. Winds of 30 knots sometimes peaking at 40
knots are not Trade Winds. They are gales.
For the pax luckily the winds were mostly on the bow so it did not
affect life o/b. The front superstructure of the ship is nicely shielding the
winds from reaching the walk-around (promenade) decks.”
April 15 (Bonaire) “The
wind kept pounding away and pushed the current up as well.”
April 16 (Willemstad,
Curacao) “The port entrance, St. Anna Baai, is perpendicular on wind and
current. If you head straight in on course line, you’d run aground. Wind and current push you onto the west side
of the Channel. It is not one of the
easiest ports.”
April 20 (at sea) “After a
long but good day in the Panama Canal it was time for some relaxation.
Flying Fish
We saw turtles paddling
by, dolphins showing off, and a few flying fish trying to take off. There was no wind and they fell back in the
sea after a few feet.”
April 24 (Puerto Chiapas,
Mexico) “The rising of the sun was
eagerly awaited by us on the bridge so that we could see the breakwater and how
the swell was doing. Sunrise was at
06h50 but we do not need the daylight to have a good look.
"For the sailor, sunrise
exists in three stages. First: NAUTICAL TWILIGHT,
the moment you can still see the stars but also the horizon, so you can take
star observations from your position fix.
Then there is CIVIL TWILIGHT, the moment the stars are too vague to
still use the sextant. That period lasts until the sun comes above the
horizon. Each period lasts about 20
minutes. By 06h30 when civil
twilight started, we could already see enough of the breakwater to get a good estimate
how the swell was running. The
breakwater was doing its job, breaking the water. It was low tide, and that meant there would
be no more than 12 feet (!) under the keel.”
April 30 (at sea) “The highest winds we observed were around
15h00 when it breezed up to 43 knots.
That is a wind force 9 on Mr. Beaufort’s scale. The 30-40 knots of wind slows the ship down and
then the swell that comes with it (13-16 feet) will do the rest”.
May 2 (at sea) “Entering
the North Pacific. No more wind. Very low hanging clouds and so thick that
visibility was reduced to about 150 feet.
In the old Atlantic days they would call that a “one funnel fog”, you
could only see the first of the three or four funnels. The bridge went to battle stations, double
manning, all watertight doors closed, and the foghorn blowing every 2 minutes
so the whole world could hear that we were there, and that the Captain was on
the bridge.”
The ship arrived at the
pilot station on schedule at 17h30, ready to dock an hour later at Ogden Point
in Victoria. From the sports deck,
starboard, we sighted with binoculars the “White House” and two windows of our
apartment. Welcome home. Enjoy!
Henri van Bentum
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