Canada to Patagonia at a Worrying Age

Going to write this as contemporaneously as possible and then blog different dates at the end. Hopefully it’ll read as a daily diary – so if you’re interested (and why wouldn’t you be?) this should be read backwards from November 7th…

One piece of advice to anybody getting a ship from Oakland. Don’t go to West Oakland on the BART and call a cab. They won’t come, even when you’ve waited the 30 mins they suggest. And then you’ll be the mark for the local hoods – as I was. Got away when I realised what was going on (just in time) and went to 12th Street, one further stop on the BART, where cabs are plentiful. It means a slightly longer ride, virtually back to where you came from, but just don’t go to West Oakland.

As such the notebook looks like it might make under the Golden Gate Bridge.
Once the cab driver finally got me near where I needed to be (it was tortuous) I knocked on an unpromising door in the middle of nowhere to be greeted by nice but slightly alarmed office workers. ‘You’re a passenger on the CP Prospect?’ “Dave, this guy says he’s a passenger on the CP Prospect!” “Better call Mansur.”
(Mansur has been my contact in SF since Vaidus was taken off the case. Vaidus was dead nice, but Mansur seemed to view me as a bit of a pain. Mansur hadn’t told the handling agents I was coming even though I could see from the ship’s log he’d visited this afternoon.)

They rang Mansur – “He’s good to go!” So I was then taken by one guy to a gate in one car and was picked up by another guy who asked for ID (first person to do so) and was then dropped off at the ship, which is big and red and smells of fuel. Now this next sentence is true. As we approached the ship in the second car ‘Sittin’ on the Dock of the Bay’ by Otis came on. No other song for today is therefore possible.

When I was handed from one guy to another (this has been happening a lot today), I asked if I should sign the visitors’ log. “No, you’re part of the ship now!” What a great sentence. I was then introduced to the second officer and then the Captain who did all the serious bits. I wanted to know what his name is, but it’s clearly just Captain.

I was then handed over to the chief steward, who may be called Antonio, who showed me to my cabin in a lift! It looks as though I’ve been upgraded a bit as I’m the only passenger and as a result my cabin is pretty damn spiffing. Don’t know if I’ll have gone mad after 11 nights in it, but it’s fine for now. The passengers’ lounge is also very nice, but I’m concerned that the crew aren’t allowed in there.

Also, it’s now absolutely clear why I needed slippers – the corridors are spotless and it’s the steward’s job to keep them that way. Just have to improvise with what I’ve got.

Met the cook who was chuffed that I knew what a chapatti was, although he may have been slightly less happy at my ‘no meat’ statement. However, I think I saw a sign exhorting everyone to accept cultural differences, so we should be fine. The dining hours are very fixed, although I do appear to have access to some snacks in my lounge (and it is ‘my’ lounge – bigger than my flat if I’m not mistaken). I’m writing this at the desk in my cabin next to my double bed under the porthole that shows a mad view over containers to San Francisco.

We leave at 0500 tomorrow which may mean I don’t get my picture of the Golden Gate Bridge if I oversleep, or if it’s still dark as we go (I’m not allowed on the deck in the dark). Although I may be allowed in the control room with the captain’s permission.

Still everything appears funky – better get ready for my first meal. It’s pouring down outside, by the way. As it always is the minute I get on any mode of transport. Better that than the other way round.

Tags: Travel

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