Day 36

7 October, 2003

Weird dreams and poor, restless sleep (with constant joint pain) had me awake in time for breakfast (cheese omelet), even clean shaven which always feels good. A strong southwesterly wind and a bunch of threatening clouds that are the remnants of a hurricane that passed over Baja last week.

For some dim reason I decide to try and film some of this experience for posterior. I am just not one for pictures, they are so distorting. Even in 16:9 wide format nothing looks like the gestalt of the experience. Oh well, I’ll play with it for today. A terrible chicken fricassee for lunch, made edible with plenty of chili sauce.

The bosun waved off my camera. An interesting man who I’ve liked ever since he rescued me my first day. His english seems better then the rest, he is just a quiet guy. Just my luck, either people cannot speak english and so don’t speak to me or they can but just generally are the silent types. I don’t take it personally. The term bosun, is a slanged version of boatswain. Both interesting terms. He is in charge of the deck and it’s crew.

I am, finally, invited to visit the engine room on my last full day, tomorrow. It turns out that it takes about fourteen hours to change the three ton piston and connecting rod in L.A.. They know because every time they are in L.A. they change one. So every three years a piston is changed. This information from the most conservation I have had in five weeks from my table mates.

Frank is the ship’s mechanic. When ships were made of wood there was a ship’s carpenter. Now that they are just welded steel, there is a mechanic, or maybe more accurately a machinist with full workshop. He is in his early forties. A man of habit, he is always late for meals (but meticulously clean for a mechanic), always has the soup, and the first thing he does upon sitting down is to reach for the lemon juice squeeze, to put lemon in his tea cup. He drinks tea with all meals. Rarely talks, but when he does it is with a twinkle in his eye that always seems to make his fellow Germans laugh. His look and attitude reminds me of a childhood friend named Mike Card who passed away many years ago.

His nineteen year old apprentice is normally on a small, German, baltic coaster. He is usually home in his parents house every night and has a three day weekend. He doesn’t like this big ship on long trip stuff at all. He is only doing this trip to become conversant in some specific equipment. He asked me what the first thing I was going to do when I got home. He is somewhat peeved at not being able to go ashore in Long Beach (because of the piston change). He has thoughts to see some California surfin’ girls, he being a surfer.

Tonight it is cloud covered with a light drizzle. The clouds make all shortwave radio impossible. I imagine the Austrian oak was elected gov of our state today. That is news I can wait for.

We are scheduled to enter the controlled approach (like a runway guide) into the Santa Barbara Channel at Point Conception tomorrow night at 2200. I am hoping the sun will rise by Santa Barbara, and that it is a clear day. In spite of our relative closeness to the U.S., we are still alone in this part of the ocean. After being seemingly surrounded by other ships for the first month (if not visually, then by radar contact), after five days without a ship it seems somehow isolated.

I made arrangements to perform, tomorrow night, what seems the celebratory act onboard. I bought from the slopchest, two cases of the good beer (two apiece) and a case of Coke and Fanta (one of each apiece), and delivered them unto the galley for distribution tomorrow at dinner.

Clocks go ahead for the last time this journey. 133w 38n

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