North Sea trade

The North Sea trade is, for us, mariners, in many aspects, the Foreign Legion of a seafaring career.

Inclement weather, unpredictable even in Summer, short port calls, insanely intense traffic, uncomfortably shallow waters (although well charted), commercial pressure, reduced rest and hard work and... a bureaucratic hell, with endless reports and paperwork.

Nevertheless we seamen have short memories and, most of the times, we tend to forget the bad moments. We leave easily behind the storms, the struggle for our lives and the (comparatively) underpaid hard work.

So, when I remember the North Sea my mind navigates to the midnight sun above the polar circle, in the Summer days of the Norwegian and Icelandic fjords, to the oil rig burners that lit the night and turned it almost into day along the British and Dutch coasts, or to the many wonderful people I've met in my maritime expeditions.
Do I really miss it? You bet!

The Motor/Tanker NCC Tiahmah (IMO nº 7384871), under tug escort, enters the Berendrecht lock, in the port of Antwerp, on a very typical grey North Sea morning.The Berendrecht lock (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Berendrecht_Lock) is presently the largest in the world, with 500 metres long and almost sixty meters wide. Depending on their size, it can accommodate several ships at once and allows them to access the port of Antwerp interior basin, where the vessels can be alongside free from the natural tidal movements.

Picture taken with Nikon FM3A and Nikkor 28-105 AF-D kit lens.

Fujichrome Velvia ASA 50 scanned on Nikon Coolscan V ED. Post-processed in Adobe Photoshop CS3.

Chatham docks; one early Winter morning

Several years ago, while still navigating as a professional mariner, I made a couple of seasons on the North Sea, doing a little bit of tramp cabotage here and there. Although I don't miss it so much (nautically speaking), since that particular trade is becoming harder and harder on seafarers, it was always with pleasure that I called the English ports.

England, for the moment, still manages to keep herself as a nation of mariners. And we can see that in every coastal town. Historic vessels are recovered and dry docked for posterity. For the future generations to see. Maritime History is, itself, cherished and preserved. All that heritage is kept alive and present in everybody's hearts. Perhaps, some of the times, with a little bit of excess. Like if they are the maritime nation of the world, instead of just one more. But who can blame them? It's their History. I'm glad that they defend it.

Not so with the country where I'm coming from. We are on the exact opposite of the scale. We don't cherish our maritime traditions at all. We were the first ones departing to the Age of Discoveries. Actually, we invented the all concept. And when the others started to wake up for that new world and vision we, basically, have already discovered pretty much everything.

And then, one day, we turned our backs to the sea. And this country was forever never the same. To this day nothing happened to change that. And while our politicians only remember our maritime heritage on their empty speeches, the only true connection of Portugal to the sea remains within the dominant and elitistic social class that rule our common destiny and their sailing yachts and "wine bottle" regattas.

For the rest of us, the plebs, the Portuguese maritime History is basically written words in the school manuals. Fading through time.

Not so for the Brits. For them the sea and all connected with it is a matter of national pride. A nation's design. To be shared among all. But you would have to visit England's coastal cities to truly understand what I mean.

The Chatham docks, near the river Thames estuary, in a very British and melancholic Winter morning. Once a important naval dock, Chatham is now a port facility mainly divided in two areas: a historical one, comprising the former naval docks and buildings and also with several historic vessels to be visited and the commercial docks, where we stayed alongside for a few days, while waiting for clearance to load a bulk cargo in a terminal up the river.

Picture made with Nikon FM3A and Nikkor 28-105 AF-D kit lens.

Fujichrome Velvia ASA 50 scanned in Nikon Coolscan V ED and post-processed in Adobe Photoshop CS3.

Cabo Girão

Cabo Girão, one of the highest promontories in Europe, is bathed by the late evening sunlight, in a picture taken from Câmara de Lobos.

With a height of almost six hundred meters above sea level, the cliff's face falls almost vertically on the ocean below.

Picture taken with Nikon F100 and Sigma EX 70-200 f/1:2.8D APO HSM (uuufff!) lens.

Manfrotto tripod and ball head.

Kodak Ektachrome E100VS scanned in Nikon Coolscan V ED.

Post-processing and resizing in Adobe Photoshop CS3.

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.

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.

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.

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.