The MV Oil Onyx

Day 21

The sweat drips, the longing for a blast of fresh air predominant but a dream only. There is no relief for anybody on the vessel from the constant and fierce heat that pours off the engines as they pound away. The little AC in the control room whirs and purrs but seems to do little except recycle the stagnant and moisture laden air. The one in the accommodation little better!

Just standing still in the engine room and the sweat drips, move and it sticks and pours. Work and dehydration is the next logical progression ..a blast of hot air helps as I move past the engine room blower - dreaming of ice-cream, except we ran out of that days ago.

Across the Indian Ocean we go. Sea temperatures going up rapidly: the North Sea temperature gauges spilling mercury from their tops. We have pulled back on the engines due to pitching. What is worse than endless heat is 'endless heat and a badly rolling vessel'. The aircon is struggling and the AB's are falling like flies as they get seasick. LO overflows from overfilled tanks as the vessel heaves itself over a wave - whoever could have thought that the Indian Ocean could be so furious after the calm of the Mediterranean and the Red Sea? Stores all tidied away after half of them have runaway. The cook is swearing and cursing, a black look on his face as his attempts at lunch plunge to the floor. The fourth engineer has decided that his body won't allow him to rise this afternoon.

Slam, bang, not a gentle motion, more like the actions of a Glaswegian thug in a barroom brawl. Relentless and vicious!

Managed to get some radio - seems to be all German speaking channels. One scratchy English program but that is all. Something about the war in Iraq being over - that troops have arrived in Baghdad. Buzzed by a US Naval Vessel - who are we? What are we doing, where have we come from, what is our intention (are we going to carry out any terrorist activities?) and all that sort of thing.

British vessel, British Officers - poses no problems and away we rock down the hill.

Day 22

At sea, steaming along at a great rate of knots! Twelve to be exact! Engines red hot and screaming: certainly struggling away from the cooler North Sea climates. Twenty four years working out of Aberdeen in Scotland and then suddenly uprooted to strange and foreign lands (hot lands), the coolers having the biggest shocks of all! Out trip so far has taken us through some of the most extreme of temperatures, the Red Sea and the Suez Canal, with an average 15degree rise in sea temperature. Can only feel sorry for the old girl!

The little incy-bitsy Air Conditioning Unit that was designed for a fridge (or the North Sea) rather than the four floors of accommodation block is failing miserably in its task. The cabins border between just comfortable and sticky hot (often termed uncomfortable) but it struggles on defiantly probably hoping that the temperature is only a brief abnormality and that cold climates will come along soon - sorry little incy-bitsy AC Unit! This is your life .

Through the glassy waters of the Indian Ocean the ship glides (barges through) leaving a frothy mess of bubbles and froth in its wake. Onwards to the tip of Sri Lanka and round and up to Kakinada!

The Second Mate is on watch. Skillfully tending to the safe navigation of the ship! Okay, truth to be told he is probably up there trying to keep awake or dreaming of a girl back home and he will be bored and stinking hot as the AC unit does nothing up there! But he will be doing his task of keeping the ship on course and away from other vessels albeit checking the clock every other minute to see if an hour has passed. The AB with him typically has even less to do but stares faithfully out of the window to the wide ocean beyond - not a dot, speck or blemish on the horizon to enlighten or disturb the endless routine of the voyage.

Down the engine room the duty engineer tends to his machinery with skill, dedication and the ever watchful eye. He will be down there tenderly wiping off oil smudges from the pounding and hard working engines. He will be constantly checking and rechecking the all-important pressures and temperatures that will tell him the state of the machinery under his command. He will be ever ready to note changes in sound or smell that would indicate a problem on the make. Well, truth be told, I am doing nothing of the sort. I am relying on the sophisticated alarm panel that automatically monitors the many variables on the engine and auxiliary machinery to warn me of changes in operating rhythm or of impending disaster. I am in fact at this moment in time planning a walk around the engine room for my hourly inspection and then considering whether to come back and type some more of this or to play a game of computerized pool - one way to pass the time and keep sleep at bay.

And in the galley the cook will be tidying away the remains of a meal, mopping the floor, preparing another meal as he follows the same routine day in day out - except today potatoes, tomorrow chips!

Day 23

I must write something! I am sitting here playing a silly game of pool on the engine room computer. A game against my inner self, Mr. Chattanooga Slim and winning every time! I am supposed to be on watch, well I am on watch but I am supposed to be watching. I am on watch and am doing the only thing that keeps me from falling asleep - no energy for being productive or enthusiastic.

It is hard to be productive when tired. I am now at the stage of this trip when I am completely exhausted. Dead tired on watch and wide awake when I am off - and need to sleep. Like never ending jet lag, eyes feel like they are being grit blasted with egg shells, only a game of pool can ease the lethargy!

STCW says it is okay to work six hour watches indefinitely - but if the way that I feel doing them is any indication of the practicality of it all then STCW is wrong!

Day 24

The trip goes on

Day 25

The trip goes on .

Get up, work, carry on like a zombie, these six hour watches are killers. Tomorrow Kakinada - great as currently I am hand washing socks and pants as we have run out of soap powder. I am holding out with the boiler suits, trying not to get dirty (impossible) and using the rolled down boiler suit and wear a T-shirt method to extend their life for another day - don't want to be hand washing a boiler suit. Our soap powder was all stolen as we navigated through the Suez Canal, stolen along with the Hoover. This time we are locking up the ship tighter than Fort Knox - all visitors to report to the bridge otherwise they don't come onboard.

Got some drinking water in Galle on the way round the bottom of India - not sure about drinking it as Indian water has received allot of publicity recently - one brand of water having 32 traces of pesticide found in it!

Kakinada tomorrow/today! - I continue writing this at 3am. We are all wandering what this place is like. The news so far - not good at all! A Captain from the Canning Tide (a Tidewater vessel) sent an email that explained a few points that we must consider prior to arrival. Things that we should know about and that he likely found out from experience. Lock all doors, secure everything and watch everything and also the agent won't appear until the customs and immigration have departed. This traditional and agreed timing allows the officers to beg borrow or demand cigs, drink, food, paint, et al before the agent (our supposed protector whilst in port) comes onboard. Our Captain is determined to give them nothing - good luck to him! On the Canning Tide the officers walked away with three bin liners filled to overflowing with food and stuff from the galley - including half of the cutlery!

To be honest they can't take much from us. Either the 'others' in Suez took it or we have run out. We are running on the bare minimum - bread and water, cheese and crackers! If they take what we have we will be running on water all the way to Singapore.

Small town from what I gather. A bay with a maintained 10meter channel running up the middle: for ships to gain access to the one berth that they have. Well we might be there for a while if our skipper doesn't accede to the bribing chain of events that is expected. But my cabin is locked up and secure and that is all that matters - suitable hiding places for my computer, money and credit cards already arranged in the engine room!

Mr. "Adonis" our Portuguese AB has not quite got the idea! He is the sole European crew member on board due to us being short handed when we left Malta - he decided that he was extra to requirements and has spent the last few weeks since sunbathing on the back deck and slowly turning himself into a bronzed god! Anyway, he may pass as an Indian through skin color but not through the amount of gold jewelry that he insists on wearing - an immediate eye catcher for any immigration or customs official!

Doubt anybody will be going ashore but then we could all be wrong! It may turn out to be the pearl of the orient, an oasis in the middle of a desert, a hive of activity, the cultural capital of India, the Jewel of the Nile, etc. but I think not.

Day 26

Hive of activity, den of iniquity? I think not.

We arrived this morning at 0930hrs in Kakinada. The first I knew of our arrival was when the Mate called me up from my sleep and said that I had to have a Health check - this was during the time of the SARS epidemic and all travelers had to go through these health checks in most countries around the world. So I staggered down to the mess room and there was this large Indian man (overweight) in a very dirty green flak jacket, a stethoscope hanging loosely around his neck, a pair of broken flip-flops on scabby feet and a surgical mask on his face. Not quite the picture of health and cleanliness that one expects of a Doctor.

Chief Mate laughing and winding everybody up - saying that this guy wanted to do a full check from the bottom up. But the medical consisted of a listen to my chest and that was that - no questions asked and I was clear.

No point in returning to bed - so now to the rest of the day!

Our esteemed Scottish skipper with his "they get nothing from me" had not learned his lesson in the Suez Canal. After the doctor came the Customs officers: each wanting their very own personalised bribery package and getting nothing. So four customs guys sat in the mess room and wanted to see form after form after form. They asked the adamant skipper to photocopy sheet after sheet after sheet and so he ran up to the bridge and back down time after time after time. A simple offering of a jar of jam and a packet of biscuits would have relieved his torment somewhat but he was not going to give in. They worked him hoping to break him down but it wasn't happening.

Found out that the mate had managed to get rid of the customs behind the skippers back. He had given them a tin of paint. Well, he told the AB to give them a tin of paint and the AB went a bit overboard in his generosity. They walked away not with a 5ltr gift but a 25ltr peace offering that the poor old Indian gentleman slave of the Customs Officials could hardly lift off the ground. This poor gentleman struggled to get this tin onto his back and then on his spindly legs worked up the gangway - all of us expecting him to fall backwards and onto our deck at any moment.

After the customs came the agent! He was not much help telling us now that the Customs Officers where all thieves. Bit late in the day for that!

Immigration came down eventually, one guy in uniform but with bare feet. He also got very upset about not receiving an immediate cash gift from the Captain. He coughed and spluttered on the bridge for an hour or two whilst we all ignored him. Being on his own did not help his case as he had nobody to mutter with. Regardless, he muttered to himself for a while about needing visas and such like - totally left to his own devices. After a while he gave up and stamped our passports and in return he got a bottle of Indian Water for his efforts. He was quite a nice guy after he had got over his loss of income. Talked to us about Kakinada how it was a lovely place. Chief asked him what sport Indians like to play but a lack of English language skills got in the way - he though he was being asked "what Port the Indians like to play" and this to him did not make much sense. He did though give us a lengthy list of ports in India in answer to the question of which Kakinada was the best, deepest, most secure and safest to be found in India and probably the world!

A deep water port? A ten meter channel on a good day and if they get around to dredging it more frequently than they do.

Health, customs and Immigration dispensed with over a period of five hours! Not bad and quicker than the Port of Suez.

Next it was time to load cargo! They wanted to load cargo straight on our deck but the skipper wisely told them that he wanted some water onboard first. Stability - if you know what I mean! They knew nothing about this - so many phone calls to the Singapore Head Office resulted and to go with it endless delay!

It was not until well into the afternoon when the water arrived, 173tonnes in 10ton tankers. Easy mathematics state that this would mean 18 tankers! Time passes and the water was loaded by 10pm that night. Water finished and cargo onboard, long and heavy risers the length of the deck! The shore crane to be used for loading these monsters was not positioned correctly and two hours of arguing and disagreeing amongst the Dockers before any action occurred. It was a case of move the crane or move the ship and obviously they did not want to move the crane - they never asked us to move the ship and we will never know why. But eventually they moved the crane and by 2pm they had the first riser on the ship.

Our much needed food stores arrived at 11pm so we had to wake all the crew up to load them. I asked the chandler why they arrived so late and he told me that it was because it was Sunday! Can't quite work that one out but .. Such is Kakinada. The stores guy tried to get something out of us and the tired cook eventually gave in and handed across a packet of digestive biscuits - how they went down I don't know but puzzled looks as they tasted the dry round crumbly things would have been a picture to take. The food looked as if it was on its last legs, but it was better than nothing which is what we currently had onboard.

They also brought the much needed soap powder - my last boiler suit was beginning to hum somewhat oppressively.

The Dockers were (amazingly) dressed suitably in safety gear which I was quite surprised about after seeing the Doctor and the Immigration Officer in flip flops and bare feet. It did tend to take six men to do one task and if at any point they sat down they tended to fall asleep - quite typical the world over from Great Yarmouth to Sydney.

Attempting to go ashore in Kakinada

The agent in all his officialdom told us that he would send a car down at 4pm - for us to go ashore and that he would invite those of us that came for a couple of beers in his office. Also told us that he would sort out everything for us from money changing to a bar to drink in and then transport back.

At 3.30pm we phoned the agent just to check that his offer was still good and he assured us that the car was on its way already. Having time to spare whilst waiting we decided to visit the canteen on the docks and possibly change some money incase the agents money changer proved expensive.

The Jetty Sub Station as it was called was a little building that housed the ports single generator and a switchboard - although it was hard to tell amongst the burn marks and crackling paint that it hid behind. It had outside some metal buckets that were neatly hanging on a row of nails, ostensibly one would think for fighting fires with water should the need arise. Their color, a dirty red that was more akin to rust than fire engine red! A sign above them declared "do not use" and judging by the rust holes that spread half way around the bottom of one this rule had been strictly adhered to.

The canteen itself was a little room, white washed fifty years previously and cooled by a lone fan that creaked on the ceiling above. Manned by three persons, a family business one could surmise, a mother, a son and a father. A little room with a counter and various sweets and snacks in plastic containers and behind the family a couple of fridges filled with soft drinks and not much else. The rest of the little cabin that resided amongst the switchboard pieces were five plastic red chairs for the weary to cool off under the fan.

The Chief attempted to change some money first so that we could at least have a beer whilst waiting; the mother kept on telling him to wait in international sign language by putting her hand up every time he opened his mouth. But eventually they called him behind the counter - all very hush hush!

The mother was extremely well made up, middle aged and she had the tinniest of televisions in front of her little space and long well painted nails that seemed to have trouble working the calculator. She spent ages trying to work out figures and exchange rates whilst we dripped sweat under the poor excuse for a fan. After some more mistakes in language exchange we eventually realized that they would not let us drink beer there even if we could buy some! Against port rules and we equally told them that it was against our ship rules to take the beer back to drink onboard.

Anyway, to cut a longs story short, after further sweating on our part, she suddenly became super efficient. Said we could change money, could have a beer, etc. The beer came out from the back of the fridge and then they told us that we would have to wait whilst they cooled them down for us! Quite obviously the fridge that they had pulled them out of was more of a storage cupboard than a cooling device.

So we all went for a long walk in the sun, hoping that the agent would arrive and save us from drinking the tepid beer. Not much to see except the port, buildings, our ship and the sea! Plenty dogs around, weakened and on their last legs - seemingly all struggling to lift one leg in front of the other. Returning to the Caf the Chief managed to purchase our now slightly less warm beers which worked out to nearly 1US dollar per can - not bad considering. We had to sit their drinking them wrapped in newspaper just incase someone important walked past or in, although drinking stuff wrapped in newspaper is not usually hard for others to guess the contents! We drank that beer and after trying to change some Singapore dollars so that we could have another we gave up the fruitless attempt. She did not seem to like my Singapore dollars!

Still no driver after nearly two hours so back to the ship we went. Had dinner and went out to watch the show. Loads of families had arrived, rich families and the upper class it seemed and they all came onboard for an outing. Whole families came down, from babies to grandmothers and they all walked around the ship like it was a museum. One pretty girl got her hair all mussed up. My fault really as I leant on a rope that was holding up an awning. Whoops, the rope came down as my weight was applied and she just happened to be walking underneath at the time. No amounts of apology would have sorted that situation out - she was mortified.

Ashore in Kakinada

1800hrs and action stations where called. A minion of the agent turned up on our gangway with a car and shore passes. Wow, either the driver had got lost, fallen asleep or we are running on different times! Woke the Chief up and five of us set off on an expedition into the unknown in a typical heavy duty, Indian made car. The Chief, Rockie the cook and Adonis our Portuguese sunbather in the back and the mate and I squashed next to the driver in the front. I was stuck in the middle between the mate and the driver and with the driver seemingly wanting to bruise my right leg every time he changed gear which was quite frequent - Mr. Tar Macadam had missed this place off his list.

To get out of the gates was an exercise in patience. At the gate we where told to pull over. Then getting out we where pointed towards a customs and immigration shack that was in serious need of some additional supports and maybe a few extra bricks and mortar, but at least it was not raining. Inside we had to wake up the lone official who was snoring resoundingly across his desk. After rubbing his eyes he studied each of our shore passes with great concentration, failing to note that the British mates shore pass stated that his nationality was Pilipino, before finally stamping them with a resounding thud. Then pointing us towards another shack like sentry post we went to sign ourselves into the "we have left the port facility" book. And thus back into our sweat pit of a vehicle we clambered and out on to Kakinada we squashed.

Great Cars! Built to last and endurable although not designed for six people!

Our late driver kindly gave us a running commentary of the tourist attractions as we rolled and jerked over the potholed roads. His voice fought against some loud "wailing" that he had turned on to full volume - I think so that we could sample some home music. Quite a noise resulted in our confined space: what with the screaming music, his shouting, the car groaning as it hit the bumps and lumbered itself back out and our drivers incessant honking of his horn as he informed all others that he was carrying some very important passengers. Five "gagees" to be exact!

Broken down vehicles and hulks of what was once was a vehicle adorned every road side and broken banks opened up one side of the main road to the river flowing dangerously beneath. The river, a picturesque setting seemed home to millions of little fishing boats carved out of whole tree trunks - which our driver fought to tell us was a livelihood for many 'Kakinadians' along with a large car building factory. The main road (the highway) was not really a road in the western sense, more like a dirt track with the mud packed down hard around endless craters. The road was dirty, dusty and filled with all manner of cross-traffic that seemed to have no direction or purpose. Bicycles and tuk-tuk's zig-zagged in aimless style on either side, across and directly at us. Ladies and old ladies with large loads on their heads weaved blindly across and past, beggars with hands out sat where cars should be and cows just ruled the roost!

Dozy cows relishing in their status plodded along with their right of way, kids piled high on man sized bicycles brushed with death as they fought the cars of the rich and wealthy. Pigs and their litter casually trot across roads on a mission and buses belching black smoke staggered ungraciously along as they attempt to keep the rust and the families together and in motion. And around and in the middle of all this activity hundreds if not thousands of people just hang around without care. As we crossed a bridge, one little old lady spotted something in the middle of the road and oblivious to the traffic she just stepped out to pick it up. Having reached down slowly and having found out that the shiny attraction was not worthy she slowly hobbled back to the side of the road. Not once during her trip did she acknowledge or re-act to the screeching of the sudden braking of the cars or the tooting of the horns that tried to warn her of disaster and as casually as she had started she re-took her watching post by the side of the road.

Towards town and the busier and more potholed streets came the market. Not much to see through the evening dusk except millions of people, hordes of people!

Our driver took us to a one-stop grocer who gave us an extremely bad exchange rate on our money. I changed fifty Singapore dollars and received 1100rupee, enough for a tube of toothpaste and some beers so I was not going to complain. Then, after much sign language and hand waving out driver eventually understood that we wanted to go to a bar!

The Heavens Bar! I think it was the best bar in town, the hot spot and the place to be seen - for males that was anyway. Or it was the only bar in town! Upon entering it was more like a gloomy nightclub, dimly lit and with many tables set-up like in a restaurant - and hardly any of the tables occupied. An impressive drinks menu greeted us but upon further enquiry the only drinks in stock were Indian beers, Royal Charter House or Kingfisher. Anyway, we supped away in our very male orientated establishment and had a good few bottles any plenty of good conversation.

Five bottles later and out esteemed agent called us up. Our driver came over and said that the agent wanted to speak to us on the phone, and so being pointed towards a wall phone by the door of the restaurant I said I would do the honors. The agent was very agitated and angry! Asked me why we had not come to his office, why we had changed money with another man and not with him! Went on about the Customs and how we would be in trouble because we had changed money and had not declared our intention to do so. And then he had the temerity to say "you come to my office now, it is just across the road". What a silly man and what a silly thing to say to a seafarer with a few beers inside of him. I opened my mouth for about the first time in that conversation and said "'well, if it is only just across the road then you come across and see us", and then I put the phone down. I returned to my drinking and we decided that our agent was just angry because he had made no money from us, through exchange rates and such like. He should have had us picked up on time instead of three hours late then eh?

And so back to the ship we squashed and rocked. Minus the music and our drivers running commentary the journey back flowed smoother than the outward bound voyage. He was though visibly upset and he told us that now he would loose his job. He should have taken us to the agent first but that was the agents fault as his instructions must not have been very clear in the first instance. Anyway, having no use for our remaining rupees we gathered everybody's change together and presented it to our driver whose mood improved considerably.

That was Kakinada - or what we saw of it anyway!

Day 27

Got the cargo onboard eventually and all was completed at 4pm that afternoon. I think they were all very glad to see the back of us -no bribes being given by the Oil Onyx! We were also glad to leave and to be on our way home.

Our angry agent, who never came for a beer after all his anger, also did not come to see us off!

No loss.

And so with twelve seafarers, a solid ship, full food stores (slightly off-color and wilting non-the-less), and soap powder yet still minus a Hoover we set sail to Singapore!