|not my photo. This was as close as a coworker could get his tugboat to the pier. 4000 hp was not enough to get through.|
It's not that I'm feeling uninspired- we're getting slammed with cargo after cargo here at Hawsepiper's afloat global HQ/charity gynecology clinic. The most frequently uttered phrase these past 2 weeks has been "exactly where the fuck do they expect us to put this?" as we are at times not being given the opportunity to get rid of cargo before throwing more of it on top of or around the stuff we've already got on board. My bed is 5' in the air, so I'm not sleeping all that well, as we're at times sailing with a heavy list or insane forward trim to get the job done, and sleeping on a bed with a strong list on brings both messed up dreams and an increased chance of rolling out of the bunk.
So it goes.
Luckily for us, the recent cold snap froze our water supply, so we've been able to save time by not showering for a day or two back there, and then there was an ice plug in the gray water overboard discharge, so our poop tank overflowed, which smelled magical. At one point both of our main cargo pumps broke down simultaneously, too, so that happened.
We've been dealing with the issues as they come up, and dealing well. We never had to turn down work, and duct tape, pressurized air and lots of hammering and cursing are keeping the oil moving.
I finish on Tuesday. Maybe I can go home, maybe I'll go work somewhere else for a week first. Depends on how stupid I am.