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| Journal - |
| September 8th, 2005 > working my passage, bush fires & a hot date |
| Intent on starting my day as a salty seadog in what I imagine to be the proper manner, I present myself at the counter of the White Rock café. Wearing work boots and grimy shorts with swag over my shoulder, for once I don’t feel out of place in here. Procuring a heart stoppingly greasy breakfast, I sit among dockworkers and fellow seamen. The White Rock is a true ‘greasy spoon’. Open dawn ‘till dusk, it has stood the test of time where all other such establishments in town have gone upmarket. It has seventies style formica tables and a permanent fug of cigarette smoke. The walls are adorned with countless pictures of shipwrecks and anything else notable that ever happened on the high seas around the islands. I sup up my coffee, and then make for the door – I have a ship to catch. Negotiating our way through harbour security to the wharf in a beaten up van, Bruno, managing director of Alderney Shipping Co Ltd, explained that his company operates four ships on routes between the Channel Islands, UK and Holland. By it’s very nature, this is a hands-on business and one that clearly Bruno is passionate about. Along the short walk to the ship we stop several times to liase with various workers. I skip behind trying to keep up with our fast moving conversation, punctuated with various messages for different people, Bruno metaphorically juggling a dozen balls at once – just another morning in the shipping game. Having devoured the minuscule amount of information available about life at sea, I prepared myself to call out to the officer on deck “permission to board!” as tradition dictates. In the event, however, it seemed a daft thing to say as Bruno invited me up the gangway onto the bridge of Isis. Here I briefly met Captain Eddie and then settled down for the next hour or so while the final layer of containers were craned on deck. Precision is order of the day as crew and wharfies work in unison, lowering each container into position. Seconds after the ultimate one is locked down, the captain appeared on the bridge to begin a well-practiced routine of leaving port. Notes are made in the log, niceties exchanged over the radio and ropes thrown to sever connections with land. We are under way. |
| The Isis, named after the Egyptian goddess of nature, is a coaster, meaning she operates on short routes never too far from land. At 674 gross tonnes, she is a mere pup when compared to a vast ocean going freighter. But in this game flexibility is the watchword. She can meet the needs of the islands by taking on cargo in many forms from bulk materials in the hold to containers and vehicles or even livestock. Today we are mainly moving containers, around 25 in total, and several racing pigeons that lost their way. Perched atop a high chair on the bridge, I gaze out along our 53 metre length and beyond to a grey and moody looking sea. Captain Eddie explained that the shifting tide is in our favour, and we made a steady eleven knots all the way as we approached the notoriously choppy waters around Alderney. Down on deck, crew kept busy with the ongoing task of painting and greasing; their adept movement compensating for the pitching and rolling of the vessel. Originating from Germany, Captain Eddie has been at sea for forty years. I could not have wished for a more friendly and open introduction to his ship. Exposing myself as the truly amateur journalist that I am, I dived in with the most common and obvious question of all. “We all get a bit queasy from time to time, especially when returning from leave”, he replied. “As a lad it took me a year to get my sea legs”. This didn’t leave much hope for me, an hour into the trip and already struggling to eat lunch in the mess room. Thank-full that I’d escaped any real work on deck, I volunteered my services as ‘brew bitch’ and offered to bring some coffee onto the bridge. Down below, I careered around the kitchen, the job of assembling the various ingredients made all the harder when nothing would stay where I left it. Feeling a little green, I negotiated the near vertical steps by bracing myself against the bulkhead as I ascended, loosing much of the contents as I did so. |
| En route I had listened in as the captain radioed Alderney Port Control and estimated our time of arrival as 1315 hrs – and to the minute we begun to round the island’s mile long breakwater. Alderney does not have an ideal natural harbour, and so totally relies on this huge Victorian structure to provide shelter. Doors were closed on the bridge and conversations put on hold as crew concentrated on negotiating our way to the wharf. The ship had felt tiny out at sea; we suddenly were the biggest thing around as we passed a flotilla of moored yachts. Safely tied up, the low tide meant we were at eye level with the waiting customs officers on the wharf. Declared as the only passenger onboard, I was free to leave the ship for a few hours. By the time I had dragged my carcass up the slippery ladder, the first container had already been craned off. Alderney is the wild west of the Channel Islands. The smallest and least populated of the main group, it possesses an atmosphere all of its own. I reckon it’s been eighteen years since I last set foot down here. Yet as I hiked up the hill from Braye Harbour to the town, St. Anne, memories flooded back. As a kid I used to spend a week here every summer with cousin Paul – chasing girls and causing general mayhem. People still ride around on motorbikes without helmets and Alderney railway, the only one in the islands, is still in operation. I searched in vain for the tree we’d carved our names onto - and wandered across The Butes, a wild common area where many an imaginary Nazi soldier has fallen to our make believe guns. In four hours I squeezed in a long walk, a visit to the tourist office to arrange a future camping trip, and a couple of beers. In my absence, the crew had emptied the belly of Isis and almost finished loading the return cargo of containers. The ship rumbled beneath my feet when the massive single engine was put into reverse, leaving a satisfying cloud of black smoke as we backed out into open water. It’s during these intricate manoeuvres that the bridge is most interesting. With so many things all around to bump into, it’s easy to appreciate the level of responsibility this one man has, in sole charge of the ship. Curious to learn the purpose of a tiny black lever that Capt. Eddie never strayed far from during these moments, I was disappointed to discover this actually operates the steering. Of course, the big helm as I’d hope all ships worthy of the name possess is there, but it doesn’t get a lot of use. Critical controls, steering being one of them, are all backed up by a secondary system as a safeguard in the event of failure. And tweaking the little black lever takes a lot less effort than spinning the big wheel. |
| ISIS VITAL STATISTICS Type of vessel: Coaster Call sign: GXZW Gross tonnage: 674 Deadweight 953 Length: 53 metres Beam: 10 metres Aprox age: 30 yrs Built: Germany Propulsion: single six cylinder Blackstone producing 607 KW Max speed: 11 knots Fuel type: marine grade diesel Fuel capacity: 35 000 litres Average daily consumption: 2 800 litres Most notable cargo: recently used as platform for twelve tonnes of fireworks during display for visiting Queen Elizabeth! |
| coaster Isis entering Alderney harbour |
| Captain Eddie at the Helm |
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| Contact me like this: |
| Snail Mail - Timo (campsite warden), Administration office, Herm, Guernsey, Channel Islands, UK |
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| Clear of the breakwater, we ploughed a course for Guernsey through the choppy sea that runs between Alderney and a rocky island called Burhou. I was again invited below to the mess, to eat a wonderful chicken dinner put together by Roni the cook. Being the daft romantic that I am, I took the opportunity to carry out a tradition I’d read about. Maritime lore says workaways should always leave ‘a gift for the ships fridge’ when leaving. Mine came in the form of a bottle of sailor’s rum (corny, I know) and a box of chocolates. I hope they didn’t think I was too crazy. By this time the crew had worked almost none stop for the last ten hours. Isis took on a peaceful air as they retired to their quarters to get some well-earned rest. With the steady heartbeat of her engine far below, I clambered back up to the bridge to annoy the captain for a while. Giving me a quick run down on the controls, he left me in charge for a few hours while he too took some time out. Well, ok, of course I’m lying – but the offer was always there! With Isis on autopilot, and the sea now calm (or was I just getting my sea legs?) there was little else to do but enjoy talking with the captain and marvel at the setting sun. |
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| People Profile |
| It’s been an action packed month, August simply being the busiest of all. My feet have hardly touched the ground. The cargo ship ride to Alderney was one of many highlights; I’m guessing if you’ve made it this far down the journal you are in no condition to read about more beach parties and Herms modern history. So I’ll squish that lot into the next journal. Over the months I’ve written a little about the various services that keep this island running – notably law enforcement, medical care and today the fire team. Locals assure me it has been a quiet year so far, but each one has been pressed into service recently. |
| "The Isis took on a peaceful air on the return journey" - The stern area is where the crew socialize over a BBQ. It's a nice place to escape and watch land shrink into the distance |
| The purpose built fast response ambulance boat - Flying Christine III - recently called upon early one morning to evacuate one of my campers with a neck injury. Luckily, no permanent damage was done |
| Working on my main campsite on top of the island, the silence was shattered by the sound of an air-raid siren that sent me scuttling under the nearest trailer. Regaining control, I contacted admin to find out when the bombing raid would begin – only to find out there was a bush fire on the common. The fire team had already sprung into action but I was required to meet the ferryboat bringing a backup team from Guernsey. Bumping my suitably red tractor down the hill, the only thing lacking was a flashing blue light. At the scene, the Herm team had got things under control so the Guernsey full-time lads merely had to damp down and check things over. Meanwhile, the girls who work in the shop en route to the fire had worked themselves up into a frenzy at the sight of all these firemen – perhaps they needed damping down also. Any fire on such a tiny dry island must be treated seriously. Thankfully this was a small one; as such it was viewed as an excellent drill and proved the system works well. And as is the nature of Herm, everyone enjoyed themselves tremendously along the way. During the last few hours of the afternoon the Trident ferry had worked hard to catch up with it’s schedule after the delays. I was on the last boat back, the 1735, having loaded the Guernsey fire team’s equipment onboard the only thing lacking was the men themselves. Fifteen minutes late the skipper was growing impatient and a few blasts on the horn brought black & yellow clad figures running down the pier – from the general direction of the Mermaid Tavern. Amid cheers from the passengers and a few growls from the captain they appeared one by one, the fire and their thirst extinguished. Only on Herm! |
| Small is Beautiful |
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| We had left Alderney later than expected, and so I was prepared to miss the last scheduled boat to Herm (due back to work next day). But the promise of a date with a beautiful lady that night forced me to enquire as to our estimated time of arrival. As a precaution I had booked myself onto a special evening ferry that takes diners to Herm for dinner. The news wasn’t good; the tide was now against us and we were making only seven knots. I’d miss the late ferry by at least an hour; a day at sea and I’m already feeling the effects of being away from land. Approaching St. Peter Port, crew began to emerge from down below to busy themselves with ropes and winches. In one swift manoeuvre we slid into our dock to once again begin the process of unloading. For me the journey was over; for the Isis and her crew the next was about to begin. As soon as she was empty they were due to sail for Holland, a twenty-eight hour voyage. Completing my goodbyes and thank-you’s it was time to head down the gangway, bringing my adventure to a close for now. On a personal level, this trip has been a small ambition fulfilled. In the spirit of the journey I have ahead of me, it has proved that if you are prepared to ask and luck is on your side, anything is possible. My first workaway voyage may not have involved a great deal of work, and I’d only been away for a short time. I’ll even concede that doing return trips probably won’t get me far on my journey across the world. But it has been interesting, educational and thoroughly enjoyable. I am in debt to Bruno, Capt. Eddie, First Officer Twiggy, Roni Cook, Little Fatty and Sexy Rexy for their kindness in welcoming me aboard their floating home. With no sign of any private boats heading to Herm, on which I’d hoped I could hitch a lift, I had to admit defeat. I’m often fashionably late for a date, but not even being on the same landmass I must concede is even a first for me. Bumping into friends in town, I ended the day as I had begun – living my vision of a sailor by touring a few pubs in celebration of a truly wonderful day. Did my date wait? Thankfully, yes. Lovely Rosie forgave me….. all is well at sea. |
| NEWS FROM THE ISLAND |
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| Year round residents volunteer themselves for service on the island fire team. This isn’t some shoddy homegrown affair; they are a fully paid up division of the Guernsey Fire Service and receive regular training. They are equipped to provide fire fighting cover for most situations, or at least to hold things under control until the full-time lads can get across the water. The only thing they really lack is a fire engine – but that doesn’t stop them getting around. Enter the trusty Massey Ferguson tractor. No matter how professional and smartly dressed our Herm team are, there is still something mildly amusing in the thought of them racing to a fire scene on an old tractor. But, it works, and that is surely what counts the most. |
| I’M GOING NOW, REALLY |
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| The atmosphere is now changing on the island. Already several good friends have completed their contracts and taken the final ferry ride out of here. The talk among the people is dominated by onward travel and future plans. Contact details are exchanged daily. A few have already taken the decision to return next season, and some have been offered the opportunity to stay the winter (congratulations – you know who you are). Rosie, the fantastic girl I stood up on our first date, has been a wonderful soul mate – you are missed by all of us! I, however, am going nowhere for the time being. I have three weeks of cleaning, packing away and tent unerection (the opposite of erection?). To be squeezed in between that I have a clay pigeon shooting competition, a free trip on a rib around the islands and all too many birthday and leaving parties. Oh, and I’m also trying to organise a tractor and trailer reversing competition for us ‘tractor bitches’. I think it’s going to be another busy month. |
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| Les Etacs - one of two huge nesting areas for thousands of Gannets |
| 1. Name: 2. From: 3. Age: 4. Why Herm? 5. How do you fill your day? 6. Best party trick, or special talent? 7. Herm veteran or Herm virgin? 8. Favourite place on the island? 9. Porn Star Name? (first pet name & mothers maiden name) 10. Where do you go from here? |
| Juan Swanepoel South Africa 25 My lovely recruitment agent got me here (god bless him) Hotel Porter (bags, bags & more bags) Drink case of beer and walk 7 metres on my hands virgin Mermaid Tavern, by the pool table Catja Roberts London |
| Juan doing his stuff |
| Herm Fire Team 2005 - plus girly hanger-on Ketel |
| lovely Rosie - and me in my natural habitat |
| Want to find out who won the competition last time? Go to the ' whats new ' section on the homepage to find out! |