Fourchon, Finally ...

I've finally landed on a boat working out of Port Fourchon, and it's every bit as busy as I've always heard. Busier, maybe. Which is interesting. Especially with visibility of a boat length or so.

Damned fog.

But really it's been like old home week. A friend from Central Texas -- he and his wife were at my house less than a week ago -- was docked across the slip from me the other day.

Another captain (and engineer) I used to work with slid in next to us today. We got to visit as they got off after a long hitch.

The temporary lead captain on this boat -- he's training a new-to-the-oilfield captain and covering while the boat is re-crewed -- is from my neck of the woods.

As a matter of fact, one of his cousins was a couple of years ahead of me in school.

The engineer and deckhand know their jobs and are pleasant guys to be around.

In fact, everyone on the boat is pleasant.

My first day on the boat one of the passengers brought 30 pounds of hot, boiled crawfish aboard to share. He'd just won $9,000 at a truck stop casino on the way to work.

No complaints about the boat itself, either. It's well-maintained and comfortable, and only about two years out of a major refit of the 2001 hull. This morning we had a 90-something mile run to the field where I worked production, averaging about 20 knots in a 4-foot side sea.

Breaux Bays sure do ride nice. Well, for crewboats, anyhow ....

Do as I say ...

There's a right way to do most things, and a wrong way, and sometimes the right way both feels right and pays off in the long run.

Sometimes the wrong way costs some money but makes you feel a little better anyhow and doesn't do any long-term damage.

That's the hope, anyway.

Those of you who are paying close attention, all one of you, will realize that my photo essay post includes a clue; namely, that my crew change is Tuesday night, not mid-day Monday.

Long story short: I walked off the boat. The call to the port captain was anti-climactic: Me: "I'm fixin' to put my sh*t on the dock and walk off the boat." Him: "(Sigh) I guess you gotta do what you gotta do. I appreciate you calling me."

He did ask me why.

"Because (his name rhymes with "Dick") is a jackass." And I elaborated. Which I won't do here.

He's gotten this call, or maybe been notified after the fact, six or seven times in the past twelve months alone. So I guess it wasn't a huge surprise.

Confession: I was making a point. Fact is, I had already decided to put in my trip notice. In fact, I already had another job -- the one I wanted almost two years ago -- lined-up. I had planned to at least see the current boat through the trip up the Atchafalaya River and the Coast Guard inspection.

I now report for my physical and drug test at the new place Monday.

The friend I came to this company -- this boat - to work with, had already given his notice. The lead captain on the boat had dangled "second" in front of him for the better part of the last year, and then told him and me that I would be the relief master because he was "too young."

That wasn't the reason he gave in his exit interview -- he talked about wanting to upgrade his license, move to bigger boats, having learned what he needed to learn there, etc., etc. All true. And he was going to ride another two weeks, give them time to find a replacement.

I don't think he minded working for me, though he knew the boat and job better than I did and had busted his butt for nearly a year. And as far as that goes, I didn't mind working for him though I helped train him on twin-screws a couple of years ago.

It was an integrity thing ... a social contract broken.

Anyway, with my buddy on the way out, I had zero incentive to stay on a boat with a lead captain with the personality of wet cardboard and a Napoleon complex to boot.

At least the boat didn't beat me. I was putting her in the slip and taking her out in clutch, holding her just fine at the rigs ... as I think I wrote before, she was very different from my previous boat -- reportedly the "hardest boat in the Gulf" (I kinda doubt it), but by no means impossible.

I have to say, it was a nice feeling, sitting under a pavilion at the marina next to our dock, drinking a cold beer while waiting on the Enterprise Rent-a-Car pickup driver to arrive.

It was, I judged, even worth the $250 drop fee for a one-way rental back to Texas.

I solved the problem of how to retrieve the truck four hours distant from the house by loading up the wife and kids in the rental.

I solved the problem of not having my truck key with me upon arrival there by calling a locksmith.

The sleep deprivation ... we're all still dealing with that.

And my buddy on the boat, well, for at least the next two weeks he's the highest-paid captain in the company; will his resolve to move on survive the bribes and blandishments to stay on? Time will tell.

It's funny, I actually called him and said: "Do as I say, not as I do." But of course he already had. One of the many reasons I'm proud of my friend, my colleague, half my age.

It was a good learning experience -- the boat, supporting three drilling rigs, the crew ... as I acknowledged to one of my cousins the other day -- he's a former USCG-licensed master -- one can learn as much from the bad examples as the good examples ...

At any rate, I'm excited about the new gig. Great boat, great company, great benefits, good schedule.

That's the assessment from the outside, going-in. If I change my mind later, well, maybe it's just my problem and it may be time to reconsider this career change adventure.

But man, I do love the work. And the view from the office.

Other Voices

I should say something, I suppose, about the other maritime bloggers out there. There are a handful, most smarter/funnier/more informative than I am. I really enjoy reading their posts.

Sometimes we talk to each other. Sometimes we just read on the sly.

I got an email the other day from a very articulate crewboat captain who had been thinking of starting a blog (I hope he does) and did a quick search to see if there was anything out there and came up with ... this. Turned out he was working on a boat with an old acquaintance of mine -- one of four of us who fled the tourist fun fleet in Deep South Texas.

Small world.

New England Waterman, with whom I sometimes correspond, works out of Port Fourchon on one of the big mud boats. He posts better photos than I do, and provides some good insights into the 1600-ton world.

A captain I work with turned me on to Chronicles of Crew Change, by an unnamed tug officer. He's much, much funnier than I am, and I find that many of his "you have to laugh to keep from crying" moments are familiar.

I guess mariners' misery is universal.

I just got back to Hawsepiper: The Longest Climb and I wish I could access the posts from before five years ago. I'm still catching up, but already I can tell you this dude is whip-smart, well-read and someone who would probably be pretty interesting to share a wheelhouse with.

The Hawsepiper also posts semi-NSFW photos of beautiful Brazilian women (BBWs?) from time to time. Bonus points. (Papa, I know you just clicked on that link.)

Anyhow, check 'em out. They're all linked above, and also in my blogroll on the right.

Drilling for Dummies

Being trash strictly of the boat variety rather than the oilfied type, I'm constantly trying to assign the correct names to the equipment we carry out to the drilling rigs, and often find myself asking rig hands and company men "what's that?" and "what does that thing do?"

My buddy over at New England Waterman recently posted this link, sort of a "Drilling for Dummies" primer. Cool. I think I'll go and read it now.

12:30, Monday, April 8

Today's blog post is a photo essay.

An Open Letter

Dear Recreational Boater/Weekend Angler:

Please, for the love of God and the children who you need to get off your bow and into life jackets, help me help you be safe.

I know you’ve been messing around on boats since the Yankees recaptured Fort Livingston, but consider taking a boater education course anyhow.  It takes just a few hours, costs less than $20, and you can probably even do it online.

A boater ed course will introduce you to the Navigation Rules, from which you are not exempt simply because you trailer your boat to the water.

These rules include such concepts as privileged (stand-on) and burdened (give-way) vessels. You probably think of this in terms of “right-of-way,” which is not a phrase found in the nautical lexicon.

Among the most common situations you’ll learn about are overtaking, crossing and meeting.  Here are the basics: if we are meeting head-on, alter course to starboard as your default action. If we are crossing, and I’m on your right, you’ll see my red sidelight. Red means stop, or at least slow down or alter your course astern of me.

If we are crossing and I’m on your left, just keep doing what you’re doing and I’ll take the necessary actions to avoid a collision.

If I’m in front of you, I am the privileged vessel and you must ask permission to come around me. The primary means to do this is by use of a sound signaling device, but that’s cumbersome and most commercial vessels simply make arrangements via radio.

Radios are extremely useful, and I can promise you that commercial vessels will be both surprised and extremely pleased if you come up on the appropriate channel and let them know your intentions. Failing that, you can at least listen-in and hear what people are saying about you.

Inside the sea buoy, most everyone will be on VHF Channel 13. In the Gulf of Mexico, most folks will be monitoring VHF 16 in addition to working channels. It’s entirely appropriate to hail a vessel on the appropriate channel.

I know there’s a really deep hole in Barataria Pass where it meets Bayou Rigaud, but it’s doubtful that’s where most of the fish are. Regardless, it is illegal for you to anchor in the navigational channel. Please don’t.

A close reading of the rules also will indicate that vessels crossing the channel are the least privileged vessels on the water. Wait for everyone to get past before you jet over to the other side.

You should know that some large boats, including mine, are probably a lot faster than you think they are. Because larger objects appear to be moving more slowly than they are, among other reasons, you should think twice about cutting across (or under) a large boat’s bow.

You may be comforted by the observation that I have two radar transmitters spinning on top of my wheelhouse. What you may not know is that those radars are not all that good at detecting small fiberglass boats. They’re even worse at picking up plastic kayaks.

So, to recap: take a boater’s ed course, use the radio and don’t anchor in or cross in front of me in the channel.

I am all for you getting out and enjoying the fine weather. I fish, I paddle and I love small boats. I’m glad you’re out here. But you’re giving me a headache this weekend.

If we collide, chances are I won’t be injured at all, and you may even survive unhurt. My company’s insurance will probably buy you a new boat. But I’ll lose my job and very possibly my career. I may even go to jail.

So, please, help me help you be safe.

Sincerely,

A Crewboat Captain

'Man, They're Running the Sh*t Out of You ...'.

I've heard that comment four or five times from other boats this past week. The dock we work out of in Grand Isle has 15-20 boats coming and going at various intervals. Our interval is about five hours, give or take a crew change, a stop for production or a slow crane operator.

The logbooks show we were underway more than 19 hours a day two days this past week, and we logged more than 12 hours coming and going every day of the week.

All of this while a front stalled-out on a low pressure system and the weather turned to crap. Rain, fog, winds gusting to 40 knots ... good times.

This boat, as noted before, is a bit light in the ass. So light in fact that in 25-knot winds on the beam, it's a real trick to get her off the dock. It's an interesting challenge, but I'm ready (already) for something different.

It's a lonely boat, too. In the month I've been aboard, I have yet to see two of the crew members (including the coffeepot captain) crack a smile. There's not a whole lot of chit-chat.

On the other hand, it's been good fun to work with the buddy who was already here when I came over. He's really come a long way in the last couple of years and it's a pleasure to watch him handle the boat.

Well, we're getting loaded for the morning run. Back to work.