Day 7

Day 7 - Monday, April 7 2008

It’s now a week since we boarded the Tosca and there’s still a sense of unreality to the whole affair. What began late last year as an interesting possibility gradually took shape, but there was always a mental question-mark about actually making it happen. We knew that some cargo ships carried passengers, but how many, where to, and how to arrange it? Mr Google quickly provided the answer to that, with reams of sites offering various degrees of usefulness.

Among the most promising was one with the highly original name of ‘Freighter Travel’, based in New Zealand (of all unlikely places), citing Hamish Jamieson as the very man to sort you out. With a name like that, my Scottish bias came to the fore, and so began tentative enquiries. But my Scottish instincts also make me unduly suspicious in matters financial. Especially with hitherto unknown websites. Could ‘Hamish Jamieson’ be a front for a Nigerian scamming operation - set up specifically to lure naïve teuchters into parting with their credit card details? Maybe he was a far-flung tentacle of the infamous Obasanjos of Stornoway email network? Such fears proved unfounded, and over the months Hamish has turned out to be not only what he claimed to be - but even better. Freighter Travel delivers exactly what it says on the tin, and a wee bit more.

Hamish originally found us a berth on Al Yamamah, a box carrier due out of Jebel Ali for Shanghai on March 10, the eve of Linda’s birthday. That ship was unexpectedly taken out of service, but Hamish came up trumps with an alternative - the MV Nabucco leaving Khor Fakkan on March 17. Too late for Linda’s birthday, but still an appropriate date - St Patrick’s Day. Didn’t the man himself cross the Atlantic in a barrel, or was that St Brendan? Either way, we’d have an auspicious saintly beginning, (Atheists have to hedge their bets!)

I hadn’t factored in the Saudis, though. A series of trips to Jeddah meant that my passport was not available for submission to the Chinese embassy for visa processing. And when it was, I had no clean pages left. I had to apply to the occupying power for a new one - always a demeaning experience for the UAE representative of the Scottish government in exile. Urgent re-issue was promised, and the March 17 departure was still feasible. But being ever-wary of bureaucratic assurances, I thought it better to check with Hamish if there were any later alternatives. Again a speedy solution: switch to the Tosca, also one of the CMA-CGM line, leaving Khor Fakkan on March 31. A good decision, as the ‘urgent re-issue’ of passport did not materialise until March 18.

The original plan was to disembark at Suez on the return trip, but problems with visas from the Gyppos scuppered that one. Either stay on board all the way to Southampton, or get off at Port Kelang (Kuala Lumpur). We’ve been to Southampton already, so KL got the nod without too much hesitation. We’d fly home from there. At last, all systems go. And with a bonus. Hamish emailed to say that because of all the chopping and changing I was due some refunds and my plastic had been credited accordingly. Wonder of wonders! A Nigerian scam that works in my favour!

Even then, we weren’t quite all clear. Visas for China still had to be obtained. Medical certificates. Yellow fever vaccination. None proved exactly straightforward, but all fell into place eventually.

The embassy staff had no experience in dealing with oddballs planning to enter their country on a cargo vessel. ‘What hotel you staying in?’ ‘No, no, not staying hotel, staying on ship.’ ‘Need letter from captain.’ Hamish, help! And a satisfactory document was quickly forthcoming. Linda does not have UAE residence, usually a prerequisite for Chinese visa issuance. Circumvent that by giving address in Scotland. ‘Need no-objection letter from boss.’ So I wrote a letter saying that John MacDonald had no objection to John MacDonald going to China, signed by John MacDonald. So long as the bureaucrats get their bits of paper, they’re happy, and the visa hurdle was overcome.

Medical certificates were another story. Being extraordinarily fit and healthy and never having had to visit a doctor in Dubai in almost seven years there, where do you go for proof of freedom from disease and infirmity? Start with the family. When you have a daughter who’s a doctor, take advantage. Leah’s response can best be summed up as ‘Bugger off! Sign a medical certificate for you - do you want me to lose my licence? Last time I saw you was two years ago and even then I’d have had my doubts!’

That’s where being a regular at the Old Vic comes in handy. On our occasional strolls to and from the pub, we had become vaguely aware of a doctor’s sign somewhere in the vicinity. Closer inspection tracked down Dr Jamal, who was presented with the required forms to sign and stamp. The fact that Linda had already filled them in disconcerted him somewhat. She reassured him: ‘Yes, we’re OK - all you have to do is sign.’ But ever the professional, Dr Jamal insisted on conducting an examination - blood pressure, stethoscope, knee-tapping etc. Stopped short of proctology procedures (praise be!), but I did have to repeatedly touch my nose with my finger - with eyes closed. Reminded me of the time I was almost done for drunk driving while on holiday in North Uist. The findings must have been the same, for we both passed the test and the forms were given official medical endorsement by Dr J. Now all that remained was the yellow fever vaccination, except... no YF doses to be had in Dubai. Dr J even tried the horse hospital, to no avail. I remembered Hamish mentioning something called ‘yellow fever exemption certificate’. An internet trawl uncovered a medical site with a sample document. Email it to Dr J with a request for him to print on his letterhead, then sign and stamp. Done! For only 200 dirhams each. Thank you, Dr Jamal!

I suggested that we would buy him lunch/dinner/drinks on our return in appreciation for his invaluable services. He smiled, shook his head, and patted somewhere in the region of his liver, saying: ‘You Scottish. Not good for healthy.’ What on earth could have given him that idea? I can only presume he must have been at university with Dr John MacLeod from Lochmaddy.
Strange that he didn’t mention it. Ah, of course. Dr Jamal’s from Cairo and I hadn’t elaborated on my North Uist ancestry. How was he to know my Hebridean connections? By the time the probability occurred to me, we were already at sea.

After all that, little wonder the unreality still persists. But we’re here. Off the coast of Vietnam, having passed the mouth of the Mekong River earlier this evening and now heading north-north-east for Hong Kong. We dock in Chiwan, our first port of call, in 36 hours or so. Maybe then we’ll stop pinching ourselves.

Noon position 04◦31.86 N - 106◦20.63 E
Day’s run to noon - 598 miles
3,790 miles out from Khor Fakkan
Heading 033◦
Local time GMT+8
Average speed - 24.9 knots

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