When I met the new workboat group in March, someone asked me the burning question: you mentioned a boyfriend - how did you make your relationship work when you went offshore? To be honest, it's very difficult, and I wasn't with this one the whole time - I tried and failed countless times before I unwittingly stumbled upon someone who stayed. It's hard even if you are lucky enough to fall in love with someone who returns your love without question. Worse is trying to make something work when you know it's falling apart. It took me a long time to come to terms with the fact that some people simply couldn't wait for me. And why should they? If dating someone who is never around doesn't work, they have every right to move on and find an arrangement that will make them happy. There are plenty of girls with regular jobs and normal lives who are much more available than I am. What hurts is getting it into your head that something is wrong with you; but no one is to blame. "All is fair in love and war", and sailors don't get extra points for sacrificing their love life to their career.
History dictates that men go to sea and women stay at home. If those men have sympathetic girlfriends or wives who are willing to manage without them when they go away, it usually works out; I've seen many healthy relationships span decades of seafaring. But communication is a vital key, and when that breaks down there are plenty of distractions and temptations to lead us all astray. For some (talking about both men & women here) it's hard to justify staying and trying to make it work when they feel that the distance has created a rift in their relationship. And I feel like divorce is so common in this industry because tradition-minded men often marry thinking it's what they're supposed to do, only to realize later that they hardly know (or can't stand) the person they married.
For me and women like me, traditional gender roles get turned on their head. I face a different set of problems and rules. I'm independent and stubborn, and I've discovered that a lot of men really resent those characteristics. Some guys feel let down by a woman who would be so cold hearted as to leave them to go to work. Some don't want to relinquish the role of provider; I once dated a guy (a sailor, no less) who seemed to take my ambition as an act of defiance, and did his best to crush my spirit. Many just lose interest and stop calling. I learned that the only thing that would work for me was someone who could cope with my going away, because I'm not changing anytime soon.
It was also difficult for me to admit I didn't like being alone; I was proud and tried to stand on my own for a while, but eventually realized I did want someone to care about me, someone to come home to, and I had to balance that need against other things in my life. I met my current boyfriend a year ago - I adore him and I'm humbled and delighted to say that the feeling is mutual. Past experience told me that the relationship wouldn't survive my job, and I was reluctant to get involved, though the attraction was easy and obvious right away; but in spite of my best efforts to deny it at first, I couldn't help myself - it's been just what I needed. It literally took months to realize that I had to snap up a good thing while I had it.
Long-distance relationships tend to be exceptionally difficult, but it helps if your plan includes eventually being closer to home. And you get to know each other better in the meantime because you talk a lot, or ought to. My advice is, make it a point to communicate. Red flag if the lines of communication aren't open from the start. Talk - about everything - and if something is bothering you and you can't get it into words, try to get it out there and don't stop trying. Expression takes practice. And good luck - you're going to need it :)
Monday, May 6, 2013
Saturday, April 27, 2013
Long stretches of boredom...
Followed by moments of sheer terror. Such is towing as described to me sometime in the past year or three - I can't place when or where I heard it or who said it, but I know I've heard it more than once and it's a pretty accurate assessment.
When I was letting out wire off Cape Hatteras a few days ago before we made to turn toward Puerto Rico, the weather conditions were less than ideal. We had a following sea and wind with waves pushing fifteen feet in height, and it's needless to say I haven't dumped wire in the open sea in anything more than mild weather. It came close to going wrong very fast. For some reason as it paid out, the starboard wire was outrunning the fairlead which was starting to take a substantial strain. I asked my deck hand to adjust it, but I was too preoccupied with keeping track of how much wire I still had on both drums to watch what he was doing. Since it's hard to tell what's going on when it's all the way over, he inadvertently adjusted in the wrong direction and when I let out more wire, the fairlead went in the opposite direction! I looked down and the wire was being bent against the roller at a seventy degree angle, threatening to kink and damage if not break the wire.
I pointed and shouted over the noise of the stacks, shocked by the sudden incongruence of the situation, as the deck hand ran back down to fix it and the chief mate stepped in to take the winch controls; due to the varying pressure being put on the tow wires by the stern bucking in the seas they were either coming dangerously tight or paying out with so much slack that they threatened to unspool right on the drum. Every time the brake came tight, the starboard wire lay on the drum at a crazy angle that looked totally unnatural and knotted my stomach to see. I stood by and watched closely, barely breathing. We had only 3 layers to let out and once we had all we wanted, we evened up the two wires and it was done. Funny how a job that would seem so simple should need two ABs and two mates on deck. If it had been just me, I could never have managed. I don't know if I'll continue in ocean towing over the years but if I do go back to towing on just one wire, it will be drastically easier than this.
*However* - leaving Philadelphia and arriving in San Juan, with myself at the tow winch controls, went about as smoothly as it could have gone. I'm very happy about that. I'm being made to run the deck and the winch, and I have a list of such tasks that need to be signed off by my captains so I can go from training mate to second mate and make MORE MONEY. Cheers to that! As a T/M here I've been making less than I was as a deck hand at my last job.
When I was letting out wire off Cape Hatteras a few days ago before we made to turn toward Puerto Rico, the weather conditions were less than ideal. We had a following sea and wind with waves pushing fifteen feet in height, and it's needless to say I haven't dumped wire in the open sea in anything more than mild weather. It came close to going wrong very fast. For some reason as it paid out, the starboard wire was outrunning the fairlead which was starting to take a substantial strain. I asked my deck hand to adjust it, but I was too preoccupied with keeping track of how much wire I still had on both drums to watch what he was doing. Since it's hard to tell what's going on when it's all the way over, he inadvertently adjusted in the wrong direction and when I let out more wire, the fairlead went in the opposite direction! I looked down and the wire was being bent against the roller at a seventy degree angle, threatening to kink and damage if not break the wire.
I pointed and shouted over the noise of the stacks, shocked by the sudden incongruence of the situation, as the deck hand ran back down to fix it and the chief mate stepped in to take the winch controls; due to the varying pressure being put on the tow wires by the stern bucking in the seas they were either coming dangerously tight or paying out with so much slack that they threatened to unspool right on the drum. Every time the brake came tight, the starboard wire lay on the drum at a crazy angle that looked totally unnatural and knotted my stomach to see. I stood by and watched closely, barely breathing. We had only 3 layers to let out and once we had all we wanted, we evened up the two wires and it was done. Funny how a job that would seem so simple should need two ABs and two mates on deck. If it had been just me, I could never have managed. I don't know if I'll continue in ocean towing over the years but if I do go back to towing on just one wire, it will be drastically easier than this.
*However* - leaving Philadelphia and arriving in San Juan, with myself at the tow winch controls, went about as smoothly as it could have gone. I'm very happy about that. I'm being made to run the deck and the winch, and I have a list of such tasks that need to be signed off by my captains so I can go from training mate to second mate and make MORE MONEY. Cheers to that! As a T/M here I've been making less than I was as a deck hand at my last job.
Friday, April 26, 2013
Progress
We are in San Juan. Impossible to believe that I flew into this city four weeks ago to relieve the second mate on the Adventurer - it passed like nothing. That first week back saw me in a dark mood and an attitude of bitter reticence. I'd worked for five weeks and gotten fully six days off at home, and just as I got used to sleeping through the unnaturally quiet night I was jerked back to the boat. I called home from Philly, but instead of - well, I don't know what I was expecting, sympathy maybe? reassurance? - I was forced to stand back up and carry on. My loved ones can offer moral support, but no one can do this for me. And the ones you love will tell you what you need to hear, not necessarily what you want to hear. I was just so anxious at the prospect of continuing like this. Living and working on a tug for more than two-thirds of the year will try anyone's nerves. But I do think I'll get used to it, and in one more week I'll be getting off in Philadelphia to go home for a short break.
When we were here in PR two weeks ago, we switched from the Adventurer to the Sentry so the former could go to the yard in Jacksonville for maintenance. Each of Crowley's invader class tugs is more or less like the next, with small differences, so settling into a new routine took little time. The weather on that northbound was calm and we made excellent speed. Not so with this last leg; on the way down the weather became foul once we turned away from the coast and for the first day we strained against rising sea swells and wind. I passed a nervous night watch looking out the rear windows at the wires and the barge as the boat swayed and lurched like the head of a tired animal pulling against its reins. The next night, as we crossed the 30th parallel, we plodded through a thunderstorm while lightning struck all around us in the hot, humid dark and the raindrops fell so heavy and dense that it seemed there couldn't be space to breathe in between them.
But as we moved along, the weather inevitably improved. Such is the charm of working in the Caribbean - the weekly escape from the blustery east coast and the luxury of passing a quiet midnight watch looking out at a sea lit up by a brilliant full moon, the door wide open and the fresh, perfect 75-degree northeasterly trade wind filling the wheelhouse.
When we were here in PR two weeks ago, we switched from the Adventurer to the Sentry so the former could go to the yard in Jacksonville for maintenance. Each of Crowley's invader class tugs is more or less like the next, with small differences, so settling into a new routine took little time. The weather on that northbound was calm and we made excellent speed. Not so with this last leg; on the way down the weather became foul once we turned away from the coast and for the first day we strained against rising sea swells and wind. I passed a nervous night watch looking out the rear windows at the wires and the barge as the boat swayed and lurched like the head of a tired animal pulling against its reins. The next night, as we crossed the 30th parallel, we plodded through a thunderstorm while lightning struck all around us in the hot, humid dark and the raindrops fell so heavy and dense that it seemed there couldn't be space to breathe in between them.
But as we moved along, the weather inevitably improved. Such is the charm of working in the Caribbean - the weekly escape from the blustery east coast and the luxury of passing a quiet midnight watch looking out at a sea lit up by a brilliant full moon, the door wide open and the fresh, perfect 75-degree northeasterly trade wind filling the wheelhouse.
Thursday, April 4, 2013
At least there is cell phone service
We have arrived at the Delaware river and we are on our way up to Philadelphia. I'm trying to sleep, but I doubt sleep will happen before I get back up at midnight.
Before we arrived at the sea buoy at noon today, our auxiliary generator caught fire. We put the second one on line and the engineer worked to repair the damage but he was not able to replace the electrical components that had been destroyed by the flames. We are going to need an electrician when we get to the dock.
In the meantime, we have the tug Cape Henry tied up next to us, escorting us all the way up the river because without a fully functioning second generator online, we are technically a deficient vessel, therefore we need an escort. It kind of looks like we are arm-in-arm with the Cape Henry and we must be sucking her prop wash right into our wheels because the cavitation is terrific. Lying here in my bed with my head on the pillow, the vibration is making my eardrums tickle. Which is why I think sleep will be out of the question this evening.
Before we arrived at the sea buoy at noon today, our auxiliary generator caught fire. We put the second one on line and the engineer worked to repair the damage but he was not able to replace the electrical components that had been destroyed by the flames. We are going to need an electrician when we get to the dock.
In the meantime, we have the tug Cape Henry tied up next to us, escorting us all the way up the river because without a fully functioning second generator online, we are technically a deficient vessel, therefore we need an escort. It kind of looks like we are arm-in-arm with the Cape Henry and we must be sucking her prop wash right into our wheels because the cavitation is terrific. Lying here in my bed with my head on the pillow, the vibration is making my eardrums tickle. Which is why I think sleep will be out of the question this evening.
Friday, March 29, 2013
PPE
The piece of personal protection equipment I favor most is the one that preserves your hearing. I was doing my barge inspection earlier today, which involves checking mooring lines, fire extinguishers, towing gear and emergency gear, navigation lights and so on, while clambering under and in between the semi trailers that fill the three decks on this barge, and the San Juan teamsters continued to load cargo as I climbed around . The sound of them locking each trailer into place is like the sound of a cannon going off, and it echoes off the decks and bulkheads until it finally fades; but it isn't long before another and another goes off.
The first time I did a barge inspection here last month, per the established second mate duties on this particular cargo run, I wasn't wearing earplugs and I nearly had a heart attack each time I heard that noise, and it felt like my ears were bleeding before half an hour was over. Now of course I don't go up there without hearing protection.
Towing is a noisy job, and since I started three years ago I have sustained noticeable hearing loss. Most of the engineers out here who have been doing this for 20+ years are half-deaf. Imagine - they used to work in the engine room without anything covering their ears! The culture 40 and 50 years ago was that if you worked without hearing protection you were a tough guy and if you wore earplugs or earmuffs you were a big wuss. We all know of course that there is nothing tough about leaning in and barking WHAT'D YA SAY?? whenever anyone says anything. I want to preserve my hearing as long as I can and I use hearing protection at every possible opportunity - even when I'm just on deck. Between the stacks, the winch, and the surge gear, a lot of very loud noises are happening when you're working the deck. So I'm telling you sailors: wear earplugs!!
I flew in to San Juan last night from SFO via NYC and I'm back to work after less than a week off; my first hitch here at Crowley was about 5 weeks long, and I'm looking at another 5 weeks now. I was complaining to my father the other day and, though he loves his silly little girl very much, he had no sympathy. When he was getting the time he needed to become a captain, he spent months and months at sea - and all they had back then were letters from home and maybe a few minutes in a phone booth now and then. I know he's right, but I pointed out that tugs are a bit less comfortable than ships and he at least conceded that point.
If I'm not mistaken, I'll have the time I need to upgrade my license by Christmas, a realistic goal that will get me through the next 8 months of a lot of work and very little play. But the few days I spent with Jake in Seattle and with mom and bro in Napa had a surprisingly rejuvenating effect, and I'm ready to work again. Although, who am I kidding - it feels like I never left.
The first time I did a barge inspection here last month, per the established second mate duties on this particular cargo run, I wasn't wearing earplugs and I nearly had a heart attack each time I heard that noise, and it felt like my ears were bleeding before half an hour was over. Now of course I don't go up there without hearing protection.
Towing is a noisy job, and since I started three years ago I have sustained noticeable hearing loss. Most of the engineers out here who have been doing this for 20+ years are half-deaf. Imagine - they used to work in the engine room without anything covering their ears! The culture 40 and 50 years ago was that if you worked without hearing protection you were a tough guy and if you wore earplugs or earmuffs you were a big wuss. We all know of course that there is nothing tough about leaning in and barking WHAT'D YA SAY?? whenever anyone says anything. I want to preserve my hearing as long as I can and I use hearing protection at every possible opportunity - even when I'm just on deck. Between the stacks, the winch, and the surge gear, a lot of very loud noises are happening when you're working the deck. So I'm telling you sailors: wear earplugs!!
I flew in to San Juan last night from SFO via NYC and I'm back to work after less than a week off; my first hitch here at Crowley was about 5 weeks long, and I'm looking at another 5 weeks now. I was complaining to my father the other day and, though he loves his silly little girl very much, he had no sympathy. When he was getting the time he needed to become a captain, he spent months and months at sea - and all they had back then were letters from home and maybe a few minutes in a phone booth now and then. I know he's right, but I pointed out that tugs are a bit less comfortable than ships and he at least conceded that point.
If I'm not mistaken, I'll have the time I need to upgrade my license by Christmas, a realistic goal that will get me through the next 8 months of a lot of work and very little play. But the few days I spent with Jake in Seattle and with mom and bro in Napa had a surprisingly rejuvenating effect, and I'm ready to work again. Although, who am I kidding - it feels like I never left.
Friday, March 22, 2013
Salutations
Let me take a minute to say thank you to the men and women of the latest group to start the workboat program at PMI - back in Seattle and I stopped in today to answer questions and tell stories, and I enjoyed it more than I can say. I was a little nervous standing in front of you guys but the impromptu visit went just as I hoped it would! Thank you and good luck!! Please get in touch if you have any other questions. - E
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
[Less Money] Mo' Problems
Every once in a while I'll go back and read parts of my journal from the past few years. Something from this time two years ago caught my eye the other day.
It was a very bad time for me personally; long story short, I was not handling the stress of school and work very well. And I was broke. Around every corner was a mistake waiting to be made; I couldn't do anything right. I don't like to revisit that time, but I'll share this thought from a moment I had after unloading some of my troubles to a couple of dear family friends, who were able to offer some consolation when I was at my worst.
"Seeing F and L made me feel better about the way things were going. The more people I tell about my plans and worries, the more I see that I am headed in the right direction, even though sometimes I feel totally lost, especially lately. It seems that every time I turn around these days, there is another fine to pay, another debt. I keep getting myself into trouble and it is becoming costly. It seems I'll never see the day when I'm on top of my money instead of always behind on everything, scrambling and clawing my way up this landslide of financial instability. I've been living month to month for as long as I can remember, and I feel like it will never end. All I can do is keep living on the cheap, keep working and accruing the sea time I need for my license; keep paying the debts and fines as they come up, until there are no more debts or fines to pay."
Recently I've had the pleasure of getting acquainted with a handful of people who are interested in going to PMI and getting a license while working on tugboats, OSVs, research ships and various other vessels. Some of them have families and want to know how much money they'll make, how much time they'll spend away from home; I can't speak for everyone, neither can I say what each individual will sacrifice by going to sea. The stakes are higher for some.
I didn't leave children or a spouse at home when I worked, and it was hard enough without a family - I can't imagine what these guys will go through. The emotional strain took its toll at times, the financial burden was brutal (only because I hadn't prepared for it), and it hasn't gotten much better but I know it will soon. In this industry especially, it seems you have to sacrifice the things that are most precious to you before you can gain the means you need to live the life you want for yourself and the ones you love.
My only advice (let it be encouragement as well) to the ones struggling and fighting to get ahead is, if you know you are doing the right thing, then you'll be able to bear the strain and the rewards will be better than you imagined they could be; it just takes time.
It was a very bad time for me personally; long story short, I was not handling the stress of school and work very well. And I was broke. Around every corner was a mistake waiting to be made; I couldn't do anything right. I don't like to revisit that time, but I'll share this thought from a moment I had after unloading some of my troubles to a couple of dear family friends, who were able to offer some consolation when I was at my worst.
"Seeing F and L made me feel better about the way things were going. The more people I tell about my plans and worries, the more I see that I am headed in the right direction, even though sometimes I feel totally lost, especially lately. It seems that every time I turn around these days, there is another fine to pay, another debt. I keep getting myself into trouble and it is becoming costly. It seems I'll never see the day when I'm on top of my money instead of always behind on everything, scrambling and clawing my way up this landslide of financial instability. I've been living month to month for as long as I can remember, and I feel like it will never end. All I can do is keep living on the cheap, keep working and accruing the sea time I need for my license; keep paying the debts and fines as they come up, until there are no more debts or fines to pay."
Recently I've had the pleasure of getting acquainted with a handful of people who are interested in going to PMI and getting a license while working on tugboats, OSVs, research ships and various other vessels. Some of them have families and want to know how much money they'll make, how much time they'll spend away from home; I can't speak for everyone, neither can I say what each individual will sacrifice by going to sea. The stakes are higher for some.
I didn't leave children or a spouse at home when I worked, and it was hard enough without a family - I can't imagine what these guys will go through. The emotional strain took its toll at times, the financial burden was brutal (only because I hadn't prepared for it), and it hasn't gotten much better but I know it will soon. In this industry especially, it seems you have to sacrifice the things that are most precious to you before you can gain the means you need to live the life you want for yourself and the ones you love.
My only advice (let it be encouragement as well) to the ones struggling and fighting to get ahead is, if you know you are doing the right thing, then you'll be able to bear the strain and the rewards will be better than you imagined they could be; it just takes time.
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