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Published: June 22nd 2012
Here's a resume of my ocean journey, now I've reached Montreal:
I arrive at the Lisbon docks by taxi to go through Immigration and then to the ship at last; it's reassuring to be met and driven by the ship's agent, he knows where he is going. We drive through a dock full of containers perched several high lowering at us, quite formidable; giant gantries stand high above, with runways like trams to go back and forth, and special carriers dart to and fro, unloading a ship up ahead.
We park immediately outside Hanjin Palermo, our ship, and climb the gangway, a stairway specially netted - I guess - to catch anything which might inadvertently fall through. We're greeted by the gangway watch, welcoming grins and logging of our ID, and time of arrival.
Having been registered, and discovering there is a delay with loading, I cadge a lift back to town with the agent, and spend a further two days exploring town, returning to the ship in the evenings.
At first the adjustments onboard are enormous: one must learn the geography of the ship, which feels like a labyrinth; where to go for meals, and when, and how to get there from my cabin; where one can go out onto a deck; getting used to the thrum of the great engine which dominates everything, and who's who on board. Once we set sail, there is the adjusting to the constant movement of the ship. I started out wearing Sea Bands on my wrists, which I'm sure help, but on the 3rd day I took them off, and realise I'm fine without. Sometimes there is very little movement, but at other times, quite a lot. From my cabin I look out over the hundreds of containers to the bow, and the great ocean we're ploughing through. I can see the bow rising and dipping against the horizon, but best not to watch this for too long!
As we're heading west, I can watch the evening sun, and have witnessed some spectacular sunsets.
Time takes on a different meaning on the ocean, each day being shaped by mealtimes, and what to do in between. I spend much time simply gazing out at the changing sea: rather like watching a fire, one can see shapes, and start to wonder if there are animals or fishes nearby. Once or twice we have spotted spouts of water in the distance, which we presume is whales, though sadly too far away to see the creatures. On our first day out in the Atlantic we saw what we believe to be a school of dolphins, tumbling and turning in the waves, such a thrill to see them splashing in the water. The other passenger saw jumping fish; we saw 2 small Minkie whales close up, in the St Lawrence River near to Saguenay, plus a seal. Very few seagulls on our first days, but more gathered as we near the Canadian mainland.
As there are only two of us passengers, each a woman of a certain age, we are thrown together if we wish for company. We spend mealtimes at our table together in the Officers Mess, alongside the Polish Captain and his five officers, some German, others are Polish, plus a sociable Croatian guy, 2nd Engineer. The rest of the crew are Philipinos, most seem extremely cheerful chaps who smile and greet at every passing (on the stairs or deck).
English is the language of the ship, so there are lots of interesting words and constant re-interpreting going on. And I'm remembering some of my school-day French, whilst Anne is practising her English.
We are taken care of by a sweet young Philipino steward, Dan; he serves our table and cleans rooms etc. I'm surprised to learn later that he has a wife and babe back home, and would love to climb up the chain to become an officer.
I spend some time daily practising my yoga and other exercises, and have taken to using the rowing machine in the gym downstairs. I walk round the whole ship when there's not too much going on - usually someone is welding or painting, and one must try to keep out of their way. It is strange not to be able to walk or cycle around easily, and takes some getting used to. But since Anne and I have discovered we both enjoy ping-pong, this has provided a good method of exercise! I'm really enjoying remembering this old skill of my schooldays.
In the evenings after a turn around the deck, we watch a DVD in the TV room before retiring. Some of the officers fixed us up with a smart new TV screen partway through our voyage, took some getting used to the mechanics, but great when we got it working!
I'm so glad I downloaded some books before I left UK, my first experience of reading from a screen, but I'm fine with it. Saves carrying loads of heavy books around, wonderful.
And I've knitted myself a little hat since I've been onboard, which came in useful when the weather turned chilly.
The weather has been different each day, sometimes cloudy, sometimes warm sun to lie in for a whole day, not much rain, but varying temperatures, from hot to very cold. We have devised a routine for catching as much sun as possible in sheltered locations, from our limited options; we generally need to clean off the salt and soot from any seat, as this accumulates rapidly. We haven't managed a swim since the pool requires warm sea water; apparently we passed the Gulf Stream rather too rapidly one evening: we felt a rise in temperature for a few hours, but then it dipped to very cold. One day sunburn (just a bit!) the next day warm jackets and hats are needed! We encountered an afternoon of fog off the coast of Newfoundland, as predicted.
The coast became clear very early one morning, I was really excited, and raced up to the Bridge to view through binoculars, thankfully the fog had gone and been replaced by a full day of sunshine. Fun to watch the small coastal villages and the outline of the south of the island as we pass by.
After Newfoundland there was a great patch of seeing no land at all, surprising for me, the Gulf is enormous. Then continuing along the great St Lawrence as she narrows gradually from Gulf to River, eventually catching sight of land again and watching both North and South shores from quite some distance. Soon we pass closer to the north and are joined by a local Pilot to guide us; apparently the river is extremely shallow, and we can see sandbanks and islands dotted around. Mainly forested hills with occasional towns to start with, plus some industry in unlikely places. sporadic chalet-style houses appear, usually all similar in appearance.
Later the land becomes less hilly, farming appears, and very smart churches with spires seem to sprout from every small village.
One day we had an alarm practice: this required getting together the necessary equipment for taking on a lifeboat, helmet and life jacket, and gathering at the muster point, which was easy as we had prior notice. Some of the crew then spent a while getting the old lifeboat working, out into the water with 3 of them onboard, and after some time out on the ocean, back up again. The whole ship stopped for this exercise, so none too scarey, but quite reassuring to know that now we can do it, although it's a bit late for crossing the ocean as we entered the St Lawrence river the next day!
Gradually we make our way towards the narrower part of the river at Quebec, which we passed by in daylight; It looks quite majestic with a chateau-like building high above the river, possibly the Hotel de Ville (town hall?)
And so inexorably towards Montreal. I woke very early on our last morning, and peeping through my curtains and spotting city far ahead, I pulled on clothes and leaped up the stairs to the Bridge to watch our arrival. This took far longer than I'd anticipated. The river is shallow and requires extreme care and guidance from the pilot who gives the reading to be followed by the person at the wheel.
There were low islands all around, often just sand, and we must wind our way through the red and green lights/buoys towards the city. Fortunately the Bridge is quite a large room, full of various screens and maps, wonderful for me to have watched our journey and to know exactly our position at any time. So this early morning, there are the Captain and First Mate on watch, the Third Mate on the wheel being guided by the local pilot, various other members of the crew popping up to take a look, and me keeping well out of the way. Fascinating to watch the city gradually appear, especially as we are quite high up so can see a distance ahead. We dock before we reach the main town, and our arrival is so gentle and quiet, no bumps or knocks, the great ship is arrived at her destination.
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Gracie
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Thanks, lovie - can smell the salt! With you in spirit and your words really help to feel I\'m really there. Love you loads - keep on telling! xoxoxoxooxoxoxoxox