Please enjoy this low-hanging fruit

 From Daddy Warpig, 

     This is a Russian DJ dressed as an American aerobics instructor from the late 80's. 

      Leave me to my memories.  We are not what we once were, as a people.

Wrapping up

 Well, I'm down to the last few days aboard here, for which I am grateful.  I head home in a few more days, for some much needed rest chores and home maintenance. 

Sigh.   Lol, not really, I actually like puttering around the house and I'm REALLY looking forward to not having cold hands and feet. 

        I'm better, healthwise. It's been years since I had a full-on flu, and this was a classic full-strength flu af that... the one that is going around. Being unable to rest, or even unable to reduce the pace of work was a slog, but it's done now. Sailors don't get days off for illness unless we're truly unable to do the work... and well, I could. So I did. 

      As often happens, the flu opened the door for a cold to move in after, and so I have a throat infection and a head cold as well. Thanks be to God, it didn't settle in my chest, which is a hazard for me, my lungs being a bit prone to bronchitis, but it's been unpleasant enough having a head cold and wanting so badly to clear my throat enough to talk above a whisper, but knowing how much it will hurt to do so. 

    Today, though, I appear to be on the mend. Still congested but better, still hoarse, but better.  With just s few days until I go home, I'm really hopeful I'll be close to 100% on travel day. 

     Does anyone else always, ALWAYS have that moment when your sinuses completely purge in massive bulk, but it always happens when you're in public, with your hands full, and no damn hankie or tissue to hand when the stuff inside decides it's time to go outside? 

 Every. Damn. Time.   I'm pretty sure the person next to me on the plane is going to have to watch me panic and try to discreetly do something about the 2lb lung clam that's about to say hello to the world. 

   I don't think I've ever had that moment somewhere like in a bathroom or my bedroom or somewhere private. Every. Damn. Time. 

 Well, we'll see.   I'm pretty happy about not feeling awful today already. 

 It's been busy and the weather has ben unsettled. Gales every 3 days, about 6 inches of snow yesterday morning and winter is here for sure. A little break will be welcome. 

Sick

 Well, I have the flu.   I feel... unpleasant. Congested, high fever, body aches... 

     Worse than the flu, in terms of impact, I bought a store bought chicken pot pie yesterday and had it for lunch. 100% ultraprocessed 'food.'  I don't eat processed foods and haven't in about a year. My daily caloric limits w/ my now- reduced metabolism, I want good tasty food since I can't have a lot of it.  I eat clean. 

 I didn't yesterday.   About 3pm I thought I would die from the indigestion and cramps that damn pie gave me.  By 5pm I was more afraid I'd survive and  continue to suffer.   Gas cramps, sharp pains, even chest pains from the indigestion itself.  It didn't settle down until about 7pm. Thank God that's done.  No more trash food. 

To be fair the body aches ain't much worse than my usual of a morning, though.  The fever, OTOH, sucks. That's 2 nights of almost no quality sleep. 

     I got the flu vaccine about 3 weeks ago. Waste of fuckin' time yet again. I can't help but think that I missed a night of drinking whisky and chasing my wife around the kitchen (I felt a bit peaky after the shot), and I get so few of those days. Damn. 

 Well, I hope today the fever breaks and I start feeling better after bed tonight.  I REALLY wish I could take Nyquil, knock myself into a coma for the night but alas... oil tanker. Ist Verboten. The side effects might be too pleasant, and we can't be trusted to have nice things since we're retarded and like as not to do dumb shit all zooted up on happy pills. 

Well, that blows...

 Well, that was a lumpy night last night. 

   We had a stiff gale blow through yesterday. It reached its' peak after dark last night. Hod damn it was a good 'un. 

 We went through it just fine. Oh, yesterday morning was nasty- strong squalls but the sustained winds were less than gale force, but it was pretty sporty. I had a mixed bag work-wise. We were alongside an anchored tanker who themelves were in ballast (empty) and riding high out of the water. In cases like that it's wind V. tide on boats to see where you end up pointing. Sail area (places for the wind to push) above water is a lot greater than sail area underwater for the current to push, but water being so much more dense, it has a strong impact.  Yesterday morning the eye of thebwind was only about 30 degrees out of alignment with the tidal direction, and it was gusty enough that even with the extra drag of the HQ tugging on one side of the ship, we pointed up with the wind about 5 degrees fine on my bow, which is to say, blowing fore-and aft. 

    I had the misfortune of having a poorly-crewed ship, though. 

    The rarest of rare birds, a female Indian chief engineer, herself very nice and very professional, and the weather being shitty, I stayed in touch with the captain, too. It was a small job but Lord, it took way too long to get done.

     If I wasn't getting pounded by rain and wind, and if I wasn't trying to beat the next change in tide (we'd end up broad to the swell, taking waves on the beam, and even in harbor, we'd get tossed around and us and the tanker would want to resonate in an accordion motion that could strain my mooring lines), it would have been comical. 

     So, for tankers, when you look midships on deck you'll see the manifold area, the area where the pipelines converge... the area where oil comes on and off the ship. 

   I'll lift one end of of our bunker hoses up on deck to the ship, and they'll grab it with their crane, cast off my crane's lifting sling, and then connect the hose to their bunker manifold.  If 3+ guys are working together well, this can be done in 10-20 minutes start to finish... and for oil tankers this is how EVERY SINGLE job both starts and finishes. Hose on... hose off... so expectations are that tanker crews will be good at this. 

      90 minutes later, I've gone in and out of the house a few times, paced, grumbled to myself, and mentally fantasized about throwing grenades at the guys on the ship for being so slow. 

 90 minutes, and a couple of calls on my part on the radio. 'Still woarking my fren, still woarking.' 

 2 hours. 'Bunka baj, bunka baj, hello, my fren, you have a reducer?' 

   A reducer is a pipe fitting to connect two different size pipes. And when I had asked earlier, they didn't need one. Generally, you can see easily when one was needed.

 The 3 men at the manifold were so clueless, so untrained, they spent 2 hours trying to connect two pipe fittings of completely different sizes together... in the wind and rain. 

 Well, shocking, but I blew up. I'm REALLY making an effort not to do this, as it does no good, but me, on the radio. 'Oh you stupid, you stupid sonsabitches... oh, you ASSHOLES! 2 hours? 2 FUCKING HOURS?' You get the chief engineer on the radio. I need the chief." 

    The chief, to her credit, came out on deck in the rain and weather a few minutes later. I let her have it too, but professionally, as I was already feeling guilty about cussing out a bunch of retards. She apologized, and then lit into the men in Hindi, I think, went full Bollywood mother-in-law on them, everything but the flip-flop held as a weapon. I sent up the reducer, an 80lb cast iron affair, and 15 minutes later we started the transfer. 

 I saw the captain in a bridge window too at one point. He looked pissed off himself. Hard to find good help I guess. 

 Well, the tide turned just as we finished the job, and the hose came off at a professional pace, but we had to get an extra tugboat to come alongside to help our own tug, for safety's sake, as we now were in small gales now, and the white horses (whitecaps) were marching with some gusto, but we were pinned to the side of the ship as the wind shifted with the turn of the tide, as it so often does, and started coming into opposition. 

  All went well, though. We got off the ship and just 30 mins later our tugs were pinning us to the lay berth dock in Brooklyn, the good one where we can get ashore from. 

   Last night the wind shifted and picked up again, blowing us directly off the dock, and even with extra lines out, my lines were groaning and complaining... it's not often I hear the wind whistling and screaming through the tophamper above the house here, the antennae lights, and floodlight mast but it was singing. 

      As for contributing factors to me being unhappy yesterday, I could feel the pre-sickness itch in my throat signaling that a virus of some sort had paid a visit, and that also made me sad. By last night I was coughing a little and my voice was froggy. 

 Today my throat hurts. I don't yet know if it's strep throat or a real humdinger of a cold bug that is still building, but B brought it with him when he came aboard and shared it. Luckily I have some basic meds for this in the med chest and us having shore access, I'll go for the 45 min walk to CVS and back and stock up, pick up some cough syrup too.  I get bronchitis at the drop of a hat. Scarring on my lungs from childhood bouts of it always freaks out doctors who worry about TB, but nah, 70's parenting, I was pretty much left to cough it out for a month or so every winter from age 5-14. Ah, memories. 

   Anyhow, with first light just a half hour off, I'll go walk the deck here, see what got moved and if everything survived the night, then off for a deep walk in Brooklyn, something I haven't been able to do in a long while. I'm very grateful we're free today. Next job is tonight.  

Halfway day

Well, we had Halfway Day off, anyhow. Yesterday marked the halfway point of this tour for me, and we spent it at our Brooklyn lay berth, the good one with shore access, which was a treat. It was good for Big E and B, as Big E went home and B came aboard on foot, rather than humping all their stuff onto a launch or a tug and getting ferried to wherever we are, which is normally how crew change happens. 

 As for me, I went ashore, got loaded up on groceries and such, and it having snowed, and the snow turned partially to slush and then refrozen, skated in my shitty sneakers up and down the dock, slipping and sliding like a goof because my feet were sore after a few days in my heavy winter boots, a pair of old Red Wings that weigh 5lbs each. Cue the Hanna-Barbera slip and trip noises, but my feets felt grand. 

    ________________________________

          It's been a theme here post-covid that my company has imposed on us a lot of bad new hires recruited from the court criminal diversion programs, halfway houses, and hoodbooger hangouts of the Mississippi river and Texas... I've been deeply unkind, and honest in my critiques, as the headaches and hoodboogs are irresposible, ignorant,  as useful as a soup fork aboard, and as a rule, unteachable in the artful portion of good seamanship. 

     There's some peanuts in this shit, though. We've gotten a couple of excellent new hires out of Mississippi and Texas, including a kid from TX who is gonna be a star here, but they're rare, and the best of the best out of Mississippi generally come from Jones County and are personally recruited by my former partner D, and often enough are cousins of his, as he has many, many cousins.

    Well, the company is staffed up now, fully, and I'm so happy that they've started showing up with a sharp knife and a clean conscience, to cut out the cancer among us. The hoodboogery is being trimmed by enforcing the rules of good seamanship and safety.  Us older, established sailors are gleefully sharing stories of bad actors getting ganked and sent home. Oh, some of it's the usual, idiots so headstrong and weak that they can't not smoke weed or enjoy some (lines of) coke in their off time and off they go, hopefully ne'er to return. 

    I wish I could share one good one, but there's been a half dozen of late and I wouldn't think it prudent to do laundry in public. 

      So, for safety's sake we don't allow cell phones on deck where there are likely to be explosive fuel vapors... like on any tank vessel, anywhere. No conversation is worth dying for, and killing others for. We take it seriously, even when we don't want to. As an example, when I need to break out the wrenches and socket sets for maintenance, the sockets themselves, and all the wrenches, are made of a non-sparking bronze alloy. Lighter, more aromatic fuels, your gasoline, naptha, etc, will absolutely blow the fuck up from a spark. 

       Us older guys take it personally when some young Gen Z'er or trailer trash retard motherfucker goes on deck with a cell phone or a cigarette... and it happens. Only once, usually, as there have been too damn many videos of mushroom clouds where tankermen used to be. 

Well, the new hires try to be slick, put an earpiece in and continue with their critical international negotiations, treaties, peace talks or whatever is so important that a broke ass 30 year old Section 8 barely semi-literate high school dropout can't say 'I'll call you back, I'm working.'  Experienced guys usually say 'look, I see that again, you're going ashore with your stuff right there, sorry,' and that's the end, and said shithead either listens or does not. 

 Some... do not. And stories of them getting shitcanned are gold. 

  'Tell us again about that asshole getting fired, please." 

      I hear one guy, dude with 3 kids, cried on the launch on the way to going ashore. Captain Dirk, the undisputed mayor of New York harbor, an old irascible Dutchman and owner of the launch, is a retired master from the golden age of the post WWII merchant marine, and also a retired senior NY harbor tug captain. Dirk yelled at him for being a shithead, a bad provider for his kids and a selfish, stupid and bad sailor, and the little sodomite cried like a bitch right in front of him. 

 Sorry, I wish I'd seen that. As none of these dingleberries had a father as a rule, Dirk was telling me he yelled at the guy, made him cry, and then had to be surrogate dad, and put the guy back on his feet, tell him to get his shit together, that this was a painful but needed lesson, needed to happen, and could be used as a learning experience and for growth, so that the guy took his job and his shipmate's safety seriously, and that he could do better at his next company, which he had better have applied to by the time he got on the plane in a few hours to go home. I guess Dirk had the guy in the right mindset by the time he threw his trash on the dock. 

The Mayor Himself

    All this to say, things seem to be getting better here. I'm more optimistic. I was pretty soggy and hard to light back in the beginning of the year but I'm feeling more round, and firm, and fully packed. 

No way

Monday and Tuesday was so busy I didn't read the news or look at social media. I talked and texted with my wife and kid, worked, and Big E and I here on the HQ talked personal stuff, exercised, took on stores, did the planning for the upcoming (now here) winter bunker ops, and dealt with the first cold snap here and the things on board that didn't like the first cold snap. 

     You know, not reading the news, I forgot who I was supposed to hate this week and why I am wrong. And without social media, nobody said I'm hateful and evil and everything bad in the world for being here. 

      

 The world didn't end because I didn't pay attention to it? 

Huh. 

         You know I LOVE being old enough to still appreciate being able to talk on my cell phone to people I need to talk to, instead of lining up at the pay phone that was located at the end of every dock for ships' crew. 

    I remember that. I too, have asked for and received a $10 roll of quarters for my monthly phone calls. I bought my first cell phone after getting made permanent crew on a ship for the first time, after sailing for a couple of years off the board.  IIRC, in my first blog, BLUE WATER, (which I deleted after the CEO of the company I was then working for spent a couple of days looking but not finding evidence of bad behavior on my part after I committed the unforgivable sin of bad-mouthing southern cooking (of which I am now a big fan. Growth! )), I announced proudly, like a hen with a new egg, that I talked to my father from the ease and comfort of the wood planks bolted to the bulkhead outside the mess on my ship instead of at the pay phone. 

  But yeah, no social media for a few days, and it was fine. I enjoyed it.

 I may start reading the shampoo bottle again when I gotta crap, rather than the news. Better for the body and soul. 

 Gen X still remembers where to find Sodium Laureth Sulfate.  

And now, this.

I'm a week in on this tour aboard the HQ and winter is here. We had our first cold snap ans the HQ scored a resounding 'meh' in terms of resiliance.  

On one hand, the potable water system did great; where last year our pipes froze and we spent days at a time unable to maintain basic hygeine (with no fucks given by most at the office), leading to a serious morale problem and a Fuck You attitude to all, including me, sadly, this year, after considerable effort spearheaded by me, with the patient support of my port engineer and the cooperation of The Money, a shipyard crew, and lots of patience, we were the proud posessors of washed asses the whole while.

 On the downside, one of my two big cargo pump engines refused to start for the first time. Water vapor in the compressed air system froze the starter motor, which happens, but not to this HQ... until now. 

 Easy solution there, though messy. We were still getting air at 110psi at the starter, but when I opened the air valve, just a fraction of the air was getting through the stsrter, not enough to turn over the engine... but 110PSI (about 8 bar) which is more than adequate pressure-wise, so I grabbed a pipe wrench and took off the big 1 1/2" hydraulic hose that we use for starting air, right at the starter, and dumped a 1/4 cup of antifreeze in the hose before screwing it back in. Kicking the air valve blows antifreeze into the starter (and all over the engine and into a vapor cloud about 10 feet across and all over me), which blows the ice off the vanes of the starter and turns the engine over. Vroom vroom, Bob's your uncle. 

  Sumpin' to be said for growing up in New England on shitty workboats. Field fixes is still fixes.