Salad Days.02

The first thing that struck me when I stepped aboard the super-tanker was how many skinheads there were on board. There were at least eight crew members with shaved heads and it was a little unsettling, not because they looked like skinheads, more because they looked liked mental asylum inmates. We sailed to Ras Tanura in Saudi Arabia but nobody went ashore. The deep water berths to accommodate the huge ships were well away from civilisation. Besides anything else we wouldn't have been able to get a beer anyway. There was strictly no alcohol in Saudi Arabia. It took just three days to load and we were under way.

It was quite a new experience sailing on such a big ship. There was very little pitch and roll even in bad weather, the ship sliced through waves effortlessly. The problem was when out on deck. Other ships would hurl some spray at you but on this ship when a wave broke over the bow a wall of water came rushing at you. At intervals all along the ship were 'bus-shelters' to jump into when a wave hit, the danger of being washed over the side was very real. We sailed through the Straits of Hormuz and headed south into the Indian Ocean.

I soon found out the 'skinheads' were those who 'crossed the line' for the first time. The line was the equator and sea-farers had a tradition in honour of King Neptune. Part of this involved shaving the head. The ceremonies varied considerably from ship to ship and mine was of a pretty mundane type. In a future post I will intimate one of the more 'interesting' ceremonies I witnessed.

We were bound for Cape Town where we would take on stores before sailing up the west coast of Africa. My memories of the passage through the Indian Ocean are hazy as I spent a good portion of it laid up. The first problem I had was heat exhaustion but at least it made the sunburn tolerable. We worked in just a pair of shorts but unlike the others I hadn't acclimatised. They had sailed into the heat over the course of weeks, I had flown into it in hours. Nor had I a suntan whilst all the others were brown as berries. Foolishly I tried to hurry my tan along and was quite badly burned.

I barely noticed, I was too busy falling asleep. The other mistake I had made was not taking salt tablets. Having never worked in such heat before I didn't realise the importance and as I didn't like taking tablets, I didn't bother. It probably contributed to me getting heat exhaustion. That was a weird experience but not entirely unpleasant. It was in effect like narcolepsy as I would just randomly fall asleep.

It could happen any time but as much as it was funny, to a degree, it was also quite dangerous. A few times I fell asleep standing up and on separate falls I injured a knee and cracked my head open. I was lucky it wasn't more serious. By the time we reached Cape Town I was somewhere near normal - as normal as I get anyway - and I looked longingly at the shore. We had only rare sights of land since we left the Arabian Sea and not this close up. Table Mountain was probably the catalyst for my obsession with climbing mountains.

Mountains were visible from the sea when no other land was in sight. For a seaman they were beacons, lures, the promise of terra firma and respite from the constant motion of the ship.

The stores were loaded from launches off Cape Town and looking out over the sea it looked flat calm. It was deceptive. This was where the Indian and Atlantic Oceans met, causing massive swells even when all appears calm. The lack of white water lulled us into a false sense of security but as we sat drifting the ship began to roll ominously. The Cape Rollers pushed us one way then we righted in the trough before another huge swell pushed us back once again.

This rhythmic rocking on such a huge ship wasn't unsettling though it made loading the stores entertaining. The problem came when every so often as the rolling built up momentum, we became out of sync with the swell and a roller would break over the deck. In my youth it was an adrenaline rush getting thrown across the deck or hanging on to a handrail for dear life. We always kept a wary eye out for one breaking over the deck and could usually tell when it would happen. There was then the mad dash for the bus-shelters. Inevitably one or two of us would be caught out and the others would laugh. It was great fun as long as nobody died.

[I did go ashore in Cape Town another time and will include it in a future post]

Working on the 12-4 watch was when I really started to become interested in the stars and constellations. Midnight to four in the morning was the perfect time for it too. I was fascinated by the new stars I had never seen before. It was my first time in the southern hemisphere and I had never seen the Milky Way like this before. I wanted to know everything and was fortunate the officer on watch was an expert navigator and willing teacher. This sparked my interest with the celestial bodies. Others said watch-keeping was boring but I would have happily paid for the experience.

The ship developed some engine problems and we anchored off Fuerteventura to get divers down. We lowered a floating pontoon for the divers to work off and three of us tended them. It was good, the weather was bright sunshine and the sea calm. We drank beer as the divers worked. The sea was inviting and we swam around happily, despite being told about the Hammerhead sharks. The divers had mentioned there were a few but we only saw one. We had assumed because the divers were in the water with them, these weird looking fish were harmless. It pays not to assume, we were later told they can be dangerous but they left us alone.

The Straits of Gibraltar were the next highlight. Only 18 miles separated the continents of Africa and Europe at this point. On the port side was Gibraltar looking like an island and to starboard were the Atlas mountains. We entered the Mediterranean Sea bound for Italy where for the first time in a couple of months my feet would be on dry land. Or so I thought.