Maine Diaries: The men behind the curtain
Each spring students from
Maine Maritime Academy
set sail on their training ship the State of Maine
for a two-month cruise. One student, Paul Kemp*, has
agreed to share his experience.
May 28-It is surprising the disparity one sees between the two majors here aboard the training ship. On one side you have deck majors who one day aspire, God forbid, to become captains of our ocean going ships on which they will safely lead these great whales across the world’s deepest oceans from port to port. Thank God for GPS. Some of those aspiring for their licenses are still stuck on book two of the riveting “Hooked on Phonics” series.
But on the other side, working beneath these great decks of steel and machinery in the engine room where German-engineered masterpieces of art pound away day after day driving us to our ports, lies the true power of the vessel, the life blood of this bounding beast. It is the engineers--one can easily guess which group of people I am partial to, though I’m not biased…to a certain extent--who battle 105 degree temperatures, unbearable noise, steam, gas, and heavy oil to ensure that this boat survives.
Yes, we, too, could spend our days on some large bridge in comfortable chairs while we debate traffic patterns and try to distinguish that blob on the radar. Is it a ship, rain, land, or a pastry smear? But instead we are below while we continue to check levels, transfer fuel, and keep the toilets flushing—and our efforts are largely unnoticed and unappreciated until something breaks. Then we are recognized, scrutinized and often penalized, but no matter.
Yes, we had to take responsibility for the three times the engine has shut down--unexpectedly, one might say. (The manifold blow out, the kicking of the jacking gear, and a leak in the governor that sent the engine spinning wildly out of control making our giant whale buck and scream with anger as if spotted by a Japanese whaling boat.)
But I will admit, a special class of person does exist in the deck department whose labor often goes unnoticed and unappreciated as well. A good boatswain mate is also key to any boat’s survival—they are trained in navigation, carpentry, line handling, painting, winches, lifeboats, you name it they do it. So I will call these men engineers as well and throw the rest over the side. Perhaps a boxing day like event is in order--a day of trial during which one side is asked to appreciate the other. Who knows what we might learn?
Previous posts:
May 5
May 7
May 9
May 10
May 12
May 13
May 17
May 18
May 19
May 21
May 23
May 26
*Paul Kemp is a pseudonym. The student has asked that his name be withheld out of respect for those with whom he is sailing.
May 28-It is surprising the disparity one sees between the two majors here aboard the training ship. On one side you have deck majors who one day aspire, God forbid, to become captains of our ocean going ships on which they will safely lead these great whales across the world’s deepest oceans from port to port. Thank God for GPS. Some of those aspiring for their licenses are still stuck on book two of the riveting “Hooked on Phonics” series.
But on the other side, working beneath these great decks of steel and machinery in the engine room where German-engineered masterpieces of art pound away day after day driving us to our ports, lies the true power of the vessel, the life blood of this bounding beast. It is the engineers--one can easily guess which group of people I am partial to, though I’m not biased…to a certain extent--who battle 105 degree temperatures, unbearable noise, steam, gas, and heavy oil to ensure that this boat survives.
Yes, we, too, could spend our days on some large bridge in comfortable chairs while we debate traffic patterns and try to distinguish that blob on the radar. Is it a ship, rain, land, or a pastry smear? But instead we are below while we continue to check levels, transfer fuel, and keep the toilets flushing—and our efforts are largely unnoticed and unappreciated until something breaks. Then we are recognized, scrutinized and often penalized, but no matter.
Yes, we had to take responsibility for the three times the engine has shut down--unexpectedly, one might say. (The manifold blow out, the kicking of the jacking gear, and a leak in the governor that sent the engine spinning wildly out of control making our giant whale buck and scream with anger as if spotted by a Japanese whaling boat.)
But I will admit, a special class of person does exist in the deck department whose labor often goes unnoticed and unappreciated as well. A good boatswain mate is also key to any boat’s survival—they are trained in navigation, carpentry, line handling, painting, winches, lifeboats, you name it they do it. So I will call these men engineers as well and throw the rest over the side. Perhaps a boxing day like event is in order--a day of trial during which one side is asked to appreciate the other. Who knows what we might learn?
Previous posts:
May 5
May 7
May 9
May 10
May 12
May 13
May 17
May 18
May 19
May 21
May 23
May 26
*Paul Kemp is a pseudonym. The student has asked that his name be withheld out of respect for those with whom he is sailing.
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