Canada to Patagonia at a Worrying Age

I’ve a feeling the crew are getting concerned for my welfare. They see me mooching around doing the things I described in a previous note and think I’m bored or unhappy. Last night the captain took matters into his own hands by taking me for a moonlight stroll around the cargo deck (shut up Karl). You’ll be pleased I didn’t take the proffered ciggie. Turns out that he spent part of his school days in Limehouse!

By now I’ve had a safety talk with the third officer, visited the bridge by day and by night and watched a school of flying fish. I didn’t get up for breakfast this morning (as I’d warned Antonio I wouldn’t), but he brought it to me in the lounge at 0945 anyway. I have to stop him making the tea for me. He’s really kind. He’s called Antonio, by the way, because Goa was colonised by the Portuguese who brought seafaring skills, Catholicism and south European names to that place. It would be a further four centuries before trance and techno were introduced, thus completing the job.

Anyway, it’s sundowner time and we’ve had some excitement and some news. The excitement was the emergency drill followed by the lifeboat drill. For the emergency, I had to run up to the bridge (like a sex machine) and hang around while 7 decks below everyone had to pretend to put out a fire in the engine room. I thought that was it until I was told to scarper smartish down to the starboard lifeboat (the captain had me heading for port).
Now, I’ve been on cruises before and gone through their namby-pamby drills where everyone giggles at the sheer ludicrousness of the life-jackets, gets counted and nips back to the bar. Not like that for us hardened jolly jack tars, I can tell you.

Having lined up with the crew (and been told I was wearing the wrong clothes), we had to get up to the lifeboat. Then we had to get in it and I was moved to the right place and give a million straps to tether me down. The lifeboat is actually a fibreglass pod and being on the starboard side in the tropics at that time of day meant it got bloody hot, bloody quickly. I was pleased I wasn’t wearing a boiler suit like everyone else.
Of course it could only get hotter when they started up the engine! I thought it was taking realism a bit too far as they started to test the winch mechanism. I thought we were going to launch! I was pleased to get out as the officers chided the crew for some misdemeanour and then lucky enough to spot a seal off the to port.

Anyway, I’d just got out the shower, preparing for a nice gin before tea, when I get a call from the captain on the cabin phone – could I come up to the bridge? You can’t actually say no to a captain on the high seas, so it’s always nice when he makes it sound like a request. The news is that we’re not going to dock in Manzanillo tonight or in the morning, but were bypassing it to go to Porto Quetzal before doubling back to Mexico, before heading for the Panama Canal. All of this will add about 4 days to the journey. I may need more gin…

Rather more urgently, it means another 3 days at sea, and I’d planned to upload this lot in the next 24 hours. It also means I will have been a week at sea before spying land again and that the trip will have taken a fortnight. And as a special treat, we’ll be going through the Panama Canal at full moon! Which will be great if it isn’t raining.

I love slow travel. Right, off for me tea.

Happy Birthday Ang…

Note added later – I was looking at the wrong month on the calendar. We won’t be moving through the canal at full moon.

Honestly, it’s non-stop on this bloody ship. No sooner have I had breakfast then it’s time for a quick snooze and before you know it, it’s lunchtime.

Today I was given two peppered, battered fish of a kind I’ve certainly never encountered previously. They were tropical or endangered or both – I gave one back on account of the mountain of rice and beans that accompanied the meal – along with the mushroom pasta and green salad, obviously. Yoghurt for pudding. So hardly anything to eat there, then. The other daily occurrence of losing an hour took place at 1300 again. I’m paying back for that succession of 25-hour days as I went across Canada on the train.
I did ask the captain why we change the clocks in the middle of the day, rather that at night, imagining there to be some ancient ritual or custom to the seagoing fraternity. He said it was because he was the captain and he could. Fair enough.

Essentially, I’m now spending my days eating, sleeping, reading, writing and listening to music. I was made for a life of such pursuits. This is now clear. The big question now is how can I get to a stage where that is, in fact, my life. Don’t worry, LBTH, I don’t think I’ll be achieving it anytime soon. Actually LBTH may not be worrying. My replacement may be doing much better than I ever did. If that’s the case, someone better let me know.
The weather, by the way, is really hotting up. The fog and limited visibility have been replaced by blue cloud-speckled skies, heading towards proper clear blue as it’s improving by the hour.

Today’s tune – The Ship Song by Nick Cave and his crazy mates. That should upset the many amongst you hate inappropriate use of songs brought on by the title only.

Back to the Seattle Rant (9th November)
As usual, Kurt Vonnegut proposes a far simpler solution to my goings on when I landed in America. He suggests two new amendments to the American Constitution.

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