25 July 2012

Central massif of Madeira

The central massif of Madeira island, seen through the limbs of a tree, on the trail from Achada do Teixeira to Pico Ruívo.
Picture taken with Nikon D300 and Sigma DC 18-50mm f/1:2.8 EX Macro HSM lens.
Post-processing in Adobe Photoshop CS3.

23 July 2012

The enchanted forest in danger

The climate is changing. There is no more doubt about it. In Madeira, after the dramatic floods of February of 2010, we are now facing two years among the driest in History. We could, eventually, live with that, if it weren't for one additional danger, already taking it's toll: the large scale forest fires.
Until 2010 these were unheard of. However the Summer of that same year changed that, when thousands of acres of mountain vegetation were burn to ashes. From that year on we forgot what Winter time looked like, since the precipitation was scarce.
And now, after a reasonably peaceful year of 2011, we are facing once again the drama of the fires. In just a couple of days vast areas of Ponta do Pargo, Calheta and Santa Cruz were burnt beyond recognition.
Doesn't really matter, presently, to attribute guilt or responsibility for the fires. This should have been a prevention job first. And that failed. Now is a time for reflexion. To prioritize. To understand what went wrong and to correct it for the future. In the end... a political responsibility.
However, one thing is certain: Madeira cannot live without water. And her vegetation cover plays the most important role in producing it. In a time of global warmth, the preservation of our forests is not only a question of aesthetics. It's a matter of survival.
Nearby Madeira, the semi-desertic (although beautiful) island of Porto Santo is a dramatic example of how the lack of water can have a decisive impact on the landscape. And on the human societies living on it. That can be the future of Madeira (and the continental Portugal also) if nothing is done. If no prevention is made. If we keep letting the forests being burn faster than we can protect them.
Portugal, as a whole, depends heavily on tourism to survive. It's one of our biggest sources of income (in Madeira, particularly, it's the biggest). And people visit us because we have a lovely climate, gentle people, rich History and... beautiful nature.
We have to ask ourselves if the only thing, in the future, we have (and want) to offer them is scorched earth.
The pristine Laurissilva forest, near Caldeirão Verde. One of the most visited spots in Madeira, for the nature tourism. This enchanted forest has managed to be kept safe from fires. For how long?
Picture taken with Nikon F100 and Tokina AT-X Pro 17mm f/1:3.5.
Fujichrome Velvia ASA 50 scanned in Nikon Coolscan V ED.
Post-processing in Adobe Photoshop CS3.

19 July 2012

Shipwreck one

Twenty-two years ago (time flies!), while a student at the Nautical School, I went to Peniche to do a school work about the fishing industry of that city. At the time, although decaying, Peniche was the most important fishing port in Portugal, with, by far, the largest fishing fleet of the country.
One clear Spring morning, while "circumnavigating" the port basin in search for ideas, I spotted this old trawler sunken in the shallow waters near the abandoned shipyard. To the present day, this picture is for me an epitome of our nation's maritime politics, since our entrance to the European Union until now. A nation of mariners? Not anymore.
Mar Azul old fishing trawler in the ancient port of Peniche.
Picture taken with Pentax SF1 and Pentax SMC 50mm f:1.7 lens.
Post-processing in Adobe Photoshop CS3.

16 July 2012

A different day

Yesterday we received a different kind of vessel in Funchal. The so-called routine calls (disembarking crew members, bunkering, supplies, etc) are not the most common in our port. However when they do happen we are, some of those times, faced with curious professional situations. But those are the interesting days in our professional career. The ones when we can do something different.
This was yesterday's case.
The deepsea tug Multratug 17, coming from Rotterdam and heading to Soio, Angola, approached the Funchal bay with bunkering intentions. However, she was towing two large barges (each one towed by its own towing line) that she would have to leave at a safe distance from the coast before entering the port for the bunkering procedures. It was decided that two port tugs would connect to both barges, hence freeing the  Multratug 17 for her port operations. Secured by our tugs and therefore avoided the risk of drifting ashore and grounding, the barges would wait outside until the Multratug 17 left the harbour and proceeded to the area where we would handover the towage train back to her. Easier said than done.
The job that took place on that day, from early morning until mid afternoon, was a choreography of precise operations and team work. And it went so smoothly that it could even be mistakenly interpreted as too easy. But it was not. Not easily at all. It was only the professionalism of those involved that made it look like that.
For me, since I've made my professional seaman's life in container-carriers and general cargo vessels, it was a priceless day's lesson on the towage business.
Up to this day I'm amazed of the diversity that we can find in the maritime career. Although we have the same origin (nautical sciences), we end up facing almost endless professional possibilities upon finishing college. We might choose to work on container-carriers, on general cargo ships, on tankers, on reefer freighters, on cruise ships, on chemicals, on supply-vessels... you name it.
A former Captain of mine used to say that all oceans are alike. Meaning that, nautically speaking, if we can sail in one we can sail everywhere. And if we just think about the rules of the road that is true. However, navigating a ship is not only plotting courses and knowing the difference between Port and Starboard. The commercial exploration of a merchant ship is the core business of the industry. And here is where the specialization takes place. And that particular knowledge takes years of practice to master. You can be a container carrier Officer or Master all of your life and a damn good one and still be learning new things every day.
And, at the same time, you have absolutely no idea of how to load or discharge a tanker or a heavy-lifter. That is the specialization of our professional life. And the beauty of it. It's our personal choice. Either voluntary or (like me) by accident. After college that was doomed to be the actual beginning. And it will take a lifetime to achieve.
The Multratug 17 alongside the Pontinha breakwater, yesterday, for bunkering operations.
Pictures taken with Panasonic Lumix DMC-FT3.
Post-processing in Adobe Photoshop CS3.

Ship's name: Multratug 17
IMO number: 9481752
Type: ASD Deepsea tug
LOA: 35.70 mts
Beam: 11.50 mts
Max draft on manoeuvre: 5.00 mts
Propulsion:  Two azipods, total power 3858 KW, bollard pull (traction): 70 tons
Pitch: N/A
Rudder: N/A

As soon as the bunkering operations were completed we left the port and proceeded to the position of the barges so that the tow lines could be handed to the visiting tug. Towage train once again secure and the Multratug 17, together with her two barges, sailed to a long twenty eight days voyage to Angola.
The command bridge of a tugboat is one of the most ergonomically perfect in the marine industry. The visibility is notable, most of the times with plain 360º, and the central console has most of the operating commands doubled, meaning that you can operate the vessel with total control either moving astern or going ahead.
In the picture, the Captain approaches the barge, stern first, to receive the towing line from the tug Boqueirão. His Chief Engineer, at his right, controls the towing winch.

NRP Sagres in Funchal

Three days ago we received in Funchal another call of the NRP Sagres, the sailing school ship of the Portuguese Navy. A common presence among us, the NRP Sagres is one of our most cherished visitors. Sailing ships have always a mystic aura surrounding them, and the Sagres is no exception. She was built in 1937 in the Blom & Voss shipyards, in Hamburg and sailed first under German flag as a school ship for the German Navy. Later came the Second World War and she was taken by the allies. At the end of the war the Americans took possession of her and in 1948 sold her to Brasil, where she remained as a Brazilian Navy school ship until 1961. During that year she was bought by Portugal, named Sagres, and enlisted in the Portuguese Navy as the nation's school ship.
Under Portuguese flag she has already three round the world tours on her curriculum and she is one of the most important ambassadors of Portugal.
The NRP Sagres entering the port of Funchal, in the morning of 12 of July, under assistance of the ASD tugs Comandante Passos Gouveia (on her stern) and Boqueirão (on her starboard bow)...
... and approaching the berthing place, along the key nº 2 of Pontinha breakwater. The Sagres is a sailing vessel, having only an auxiliary main engine. Therefore her manoeuvring characteristics in confined spaces are  very limited, hence the need for tugboat assistance in these particular situations.
Both pictures made with Panasonic Lumix DMC-FT3 waterproof compact camera. Post-processing with Adobe Photoshop CS3.

11 July 2012

Marine acrobatics

The funny thing about my professional seafaring career is that no two days are ever the same. Like I've said before, in a previous post, a routine day aboard is hardly that. When we are sailing between ports there are always paperwork to be made, either internal or commercial. Safety drills are also, most of the times, performed during the sailing periods, since it's the only time when we can reunite all the crew together without compromising the commercial operations of the vessel.
However, there are some jobs that, by its innate specificity, can only be achieved in port. Alongside. Crane works are one of those. The maintenance of these electrohydraulic systems is one of the most important jobs performed by the Engine and Deck crew members, since all the cargo operations of the vessel (and therefore her sole purpose in life) depends of its readiness.
As much as a car cannot run out of oil, also a marine crane without the proper lubrication and regular maintenance can only lead to a catastrophic failure in the future.
The maintenance schedules for these particular equipments is vast and complex. However one of the simplest of those operations is also the most vital and important: the lubrication of the main cargo wire.
A Merchant Marine Bosun, suspended on the cargo hook of a container ship-based marine crane greases the cargo wire under the watchful eye of a fellow seaman who is operating the equipment from the control cabin, fifteen meters above deck.
Picture taken with Pentax P30-T and Pentax SMC 50mm f:1.7 AF lens.
Fujichrome Velvia ASA 50 scanned on Nikon Coolscan V ED.
Post-processing in Adobe Photoshop CS3.

The giant's tooth

In 1915 Alfred Wegener proposed a radical theory that would change forever our knowledge of the Earth's dynamics. Contrary to the many lab rats that abound on the scientific world, he was an active field researcher, having spent several years of his life in the remotness of the Greenland glacial deserts collecting data to prove his visionary idea: the continental drift.
According to him, in a certain time in the Earth's life, the continents were joined together thus constituting a vast and unique land mass, which he called "Pangea", surrounded by a vast ocean.
Somewhere in time, due to the tectonic movements of the Earth crust, that mass literally broke into pieces and those pieces started to separate from each other. Those pieces we now recognize as continents. Studies conducted during the fifties, particularly on the sea bed, just reinforced the theory.
The result of that latter investigation, together with the pioneering studies of Wegener, is now recognized worldwide as the correct interpretation of the Earth's telluric forces: the theory of plate tectonics.
And nowhere in the world can we see those forces in their full dimension as in the great mountain ranges.
As I was approaching, some years ago, the colossal massif of the Pyrenees, rising vertically above the Aragonese plains up to three and a half kilometres high, all that vision became my own. It's easy to imagine the Iberian plate clashing with the European one. Converging to each other. And after millions of years of geological torture a new mountain range is born. And its still growing.
That night, while resting in my tent, with the intimidating and cyclopic presence of the Midi d'Ossau peak close by and the vast celestial sphere above us, I felt more warmer than ever inside my sleeping bag. I was feeling the Earth as a living being. And I was a part of her.
And with that comforting though in mind, I fell asleep.
Pic du Midi d'Ossau (2884 meters), in the French Pyrenees, from the approaching trail.
Picture taken with Pentax SF1 camera and Pentax SMC 50mm f:1.7 AF lens.
Fujichrome Velvia ASA 50 scanned in Nikon Coolscan V ED.
Post-processing in Adobe Photoshop CS3.