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Bear's Tale
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Thursday August 3, 2000
POSITION: Latitude:
3o
58’ S Longitude: 82o
01’ W STATUS: Enroute from Peru to Manzanillo
Mexico. We have just turned WNW’ly away from the South American coast
and are on course 317° T across the Pacific heading for the West
Coast of Mexico. This route
will take us about 220 miles east of the Galapagos Islands. We will make landfall on the western coast of Mexico in the
vicinity of Zihuatanejo and transit along the coastline for another 190
miles up to Manzanillo. The transit from Peru is 10 days. The air temperature is 74o
degrees
F., relative humidity is 65 %, and sea temperature is 66 degrees. Sky is again overcast with a continuous marine layer of
stratus clouds and probably will remain so until we are out of and away
from the Humbolt current.. The
visibility is actually very good and the winds are less than 15 knots.
Seas are slight and there is a low SW’ly swell.
Not long after clearing Valparaiso harbor, the marine layer
returned and we were under a stratus overcast all the way to Peru.
Like most of the cruise so far, no celestial observations were
possible. Because our arrival
day to Peru was pushed back by one day, we had an extra twenty-four hours
to get there from Chile. Thus,
the speed required was even slower than the original 9.5 knot plan. After departing Valparaiso harbor, we settled into a
comfortable 50 RPM. This shaft speed equates to a “slow ahead” engine
order (bell) when we are maneuvering. We would eventually slow down even
further to “Dead Slow Ahead” before we reached Peru.
Because of our relatively slow hull speed and the benefits gained
from the Humbolt ocean current, an interesting situation developed.
We actually went faster than theoretically possible !
Let me explain. A ship has a theoretical speed for each shaft RPM
setting due to the known distance the propeller should advance as it makes
each revolution (thrust quantified in feet forward).
That theoretical speed over time is known as engine distance.
In reality of course, you never actually go that theoretical
distance because of external and environmental factors. The actual
distance you go based on real world observations is known cleverly enough
as observed distance. Observed
distance is almost always less than the theoretical engine distance. This
makes sense. The factors that cause observed distance to be less than
engine distance are such things as: adverse wind and current, rough seas,
hull growth, poor steering, et al. Also, a ship’s hull moving through
the water has a resistance to it. Intuitively, we know that.
That resistance is known as drag.
Drag comes in two basic flavors, induced and parasitic (very
similar to aircraft moving through air). A ship’s total drag coefficient
is the combined resistance of
both the hull through the water and the superstructure through the air.
This net resistance force acts parallel to the axis of movement but in the
opposite direction. But lets
just talk about the hull since it represents the greatest component of
total drag. Parasitic (sounds like parasite [bug] but is pronounced
para-citic) drag is caused by some appendage or appurtenance sticking out
from the skin of a moving body into a slip stream (medium traveled through
like water or air) . For example, stick your arm out the window of a car
going sixty-five (speed limit of course) miles per hour and you will feel
the effects of parasitic drag attempting to tear your arm out of its
socket. Or, when you fall
water skiing. If you present
a smooth portion of your body to the water surface (such as your back),
the reduced friction of that relatively flat surface will allow you to
skip like a pebble a few times across the water as you slowly decelerate.
If however, you catch (submerge) an arm or leg in the water early
in the deceleration process, the sudden parasitic drag thus presented to
the water medium will decelerate your behind instantly. That usually
smarts some. On a ship, things like hull barnacles obviously contribute to
parasitic drag. The other
component of total hull resistance is induced drag.
Induced drag is a little more complicated to explain.
Let’s just say that it is proportional to speed and is comprised
of things like hull wave generated resistance. Nor will we consider
propeller efficiency in this discussion (e.g. cavitation). We will just
state that, the faster your hull tries to go through the water, the
greater the induced drag developed. Any parasitic drag present will also
be summed to the total drag equation.
Conversely, the slower the hull speed, the less induced and
parasitic drag. Ergo, if a ship slows down, we would expect its total drag
coefficient to be reduced and its propeller efficiency to be increased..
And so it is. Therefore, as we headed to Peru at a slow RPM, our hull drag
was smaller than it would have been at a faster speed. Add this to the fact that we were riding in the Humbolt
current as we transited up the coast (pushing us), and you can see that,
in fact, it is possible to go faster than you are supposed to. The lesser
drag at slow speed helps but the major reason is due to the beneficial
effects of the following current. When
we got to Peru, the engine miles recorded were 1312 and the observed
distance across the face of the Earth was 1339 miles.
We actually traversed 27 more miles than is theoretically possible,
at least as far as the Chief Engineer was concerned. What this means
practically is that you save fuel. Incidentally, the difference between
engine distance and observed distance is known as slip.
But slip as we might, it was still loathsome to travel at such a slow
speed.
On the way from Chile to Peru, we crossed the Tropic
of Capricorn at 23.5 °
south latitude. That is the imaginary line representing the Sun’s
farthest southerly movement (of course the Sun doesn’t actually move,
the Earth does). After
crossing the line, the crew were instructed to turn their underwear back
around the right way. We were originally scheduled to arrive in
Peru on a Friday, five days after leaving Valparaiso. Instead, we were
requested by the Defense Attache at the Embassy to arrive on Saturday, a
day later, as the proceeding Thursday and Friday are special holidays in
Peru. They celebrate their independence on these days.
This year, it is also the inauguration celebration of the recently
re-elected President. This holiday time is called “Fiestas Patrias”,
which roughly translates to “Nation’s Parties”.
It is a dual celebration this year. Firstly, it celebrates Peru’s
1821 independence from Spain. Their
liberator and national hero is San Martin. San Martin was responsible for
leading much of the liberation movements in the southern countries of
South America while his counterpart, Simon Bolivar, led liberations
against Spain in the northern countries. To the Peruvians, San Martin is
like our George Washington. Combined with this patriotic commemoration
time is the President’s inauguration gala. Businesses and government
essentially shut down during these two days because everyone is out
celebrating. Consequently,
the Port Officials asked us to arrive a day later.
Arriving on the darkened Bridge two hours before our scheduled
early morning arrival, I sat in the Captain’s chair for a little
introspection and a first cup of coffee.
I knew that the quiet sanctity of this place would soon be
shattered by the throng of arrival activity.
As I cruised around the wheelhouse before assuming my chair, I
noted a number of things: 1) the Cadet Watch Officer apparently had the
ship on course, 2) the San Lorenzo Island navigational light as observed
out the starboard-side bridge window was where it was supposed to be and
3) there was no fog and no fishing boats in the immediate area. This would
soon all change with fishing boats blocking our transit through the
traffic separation zone, radio conversations blaring away and the general
ruckus of 10 people being in the Bridge at once. But at that one solitary
moment sitting in the quiet peacefulness of the Bridge, I mused that all
seemed right with the world.
The Cadet Watch Officer on duty this particular morning was none
other than our Corps Commander. Because
of her co-team member’s illness, she was the lone first class on this
busy arrival watch. I sometimes delight in the simplicity of just sitting
and watching the senior cadets go about their various Bridge duties. They
are constantly on the move checking this and that. It is amazing to
realize just how far they have come professionally in three short years at
CMA. Although you could not actually see her as she moved silently about
the dark Bridge, you could detect the general shape of her presence.
Occasionally, her face was alternately illuminated by the soft glow of the
green reflected light of a radar as she peered into it on tip toes or by
the red light over the chart table. Although you couldn’t see her fully
in the darkness, you could hear her soft footfalls as she moved about the
Bridge speaking the King’s English (she’s from New Zealand) to the
engine room over the phone or giving steering orders to the Third Class
helmsman. She was all business as she checked the helmsman’s course, put
positions on the chart and tested equipment in preparation for arrival. By
the time we were actually approaching the sea buoy, the sun had risen and
the dawn had broken on yet another overcast day. Rather than take over
from the cadet as we approached the busy port, I had her retain control of
the vessel and go ahead and drive the ship right to the sea buoy. As a
ship nears port, things become very hectic. Changing course, avoiding
traffic, talking on the radio, obtaining navigational positions and making
sure that the engine room is ready to maneuver are just a few of the many
things that are all happening at once. Because she was doing such a good
job, I had her continue the approach while coaching her here and there.
She was doing great, but as we got closer and closer, I could tell she was
getting a little overwhelmed and starting to buckle under the pressure.
Things were happening faster and faster. When I finally asked her if she
wanted me to relieve her and assume the ship’s conn, the expression on
her face of “hell yes” was priceless.
That look required absolutely no verbal affirmation whatsoever. As
I took over the ship’s conn, a profound relief washed over her like
having the weight of the world being lifted off of her shoulders. I
remember this feeling well myself as I was gaining experience as a junior
Mate. I recount this tale to
you because I think that it is illustrative of what amazing things the
cadets accomplish professionally in their cruise experience. I hope that she does not take offense to me using her
experience to help our readers understand some of the goings-on aboard the
ship. It’s pretty neat to watch. I
wish that our non-seagoing faculty colleagues could witness this special
student learning experience. I
complement her ability and tenacity in spite of her tender experience. I’ll have to get the Chief Engineer or the 1st
Assistant to provide me a similar engineering student anecdote to relate
for the next hotline addition.
As we continued in the channel towards the breakwater, Callao Port
Control directed us to go to anchor for quarantine inspection. Because we
were arriving from Chile, Peruvian medical officials wanted to inspect the
ship to insure that we had no cases of the infectious “Hanta” virus
onboard. Doc Murphy informs me that this is a particularly virulent
illness and comes from mouse and rat droppings. After turning away from
our approach to the breakwater, we proceeded as directed to anchor about a
mile away from the ship channel. We were only anchored for about 30
minutes and after the Boarding Officials and the Pilot came aboard, we
were allowed to heave anchor and proceed into port.
We docked about 9:30 AM at a commercial pier. It was a tight fit
between the cement wall end of the dock and a large Hapag-Lloyd container
ship behind us. When it was all said and done, and the screaming and
shouting finished (kidding – it actually went fairly smooth), we only
had about 20-30 feet of clearance on each end of the ship.
Unfortunately, the Saturday that we arrived was marred by political
violence in downtown Lima. There were demonstrations against President
Fujimori that turned into rioting and looting.
Although the U.S. Embassy assuaged our fears with respect to
escalating violence elsewhere, it was suggested that we keep the crew out
of downtown Lima. Therefore,
as a precautionary measure and at the behest of the U.S. Embassy, we
declared Lima off limits to the crew.
This turned out to be no real hardship because the suburb of Miraflores
was a better place to spend liberty anyway. We hired passenger vans to shuttle the crew back and forth to
and from Miraflores. The Peruvian Navy sponsored several museum tours for
our crew and arranged big Navy buses for transportation. There were no
political or violent incidents involving our crew whatsoever and most
availed themselves of the excellent shopping and dining in areas outside
of Lima itself.
Callao harbor is a very busy commercial port.
More than any other place on cruise, the students were able to see
most types of marine cargo activity occurring around the clock.
Break-bulk, container, heavy-lift and dry bulk ships were busy being
loaded and unloaded. On our non-cargo designed training ship, it is
sometimes easy to forget the mercantile nature of the shipping business.
It was educational for the students to see so many types of cargo
activity. Callao is also home-port to hundreds of large Purse-seine
fishing vessels. These
vessels fish predominantly for tuna species.
There were also several Japanese squid trawlers moored in the port.
Personally, I love to see fishing vessels in port and not at sea where we
have to dodge them.
While in Peru, we embarked 10 Mexican Merchant Marine Cadets. They come from Academies in Vera Cruz, Tampico and Mazatlan.
They have come aboard along with an Officer faculty member to
observe and learn aboard the GOLDEN BEAR.
They are all senior cadets. Five
are engineering students and five deck students. Each academic department
has designed a special training program for their 10-day onboard
experience. They have been
assigned Spanish-speaking CMA cadet liaisons to help acclimate them to the
onboard routines.
Departure from Callao was uneventful and we turned north along the
coast after clearing the breakwater. Everyone has settled in for our last
long 10-day sea passage. More soon. Captain |
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