We enjoyed calm seas consistently for the first half of the trip and all the way to the Equator, but on Thursday the rocking started picking up. It seemed to get worse at night—enough to wake me in the early morning. Since yesterday, the swells have been about two meters high and the waves about half a meter. We hit them at an angle, which makes the bow of the ship bounce a little to the right, and a little to the left, a little to the right, a little to the left.
Coupled with the frequent time zone changes, I finally took a sleeping pill last night. When I laid down, it felt like I was on a fever-induced magic carpet ride, as if the bed were sliding one way, and then stopping, and then sliding the other way and then stopping (because of the swells, not the pills!). Yet it was also somewhat soothing, being rocked from side to side. At least I was able to sleep through the night.
The crew likes to taunt us that it only gets rougher the closer we get to New Zealand, so apparently this is the new reality. On the positive side, after enduring several days of grey and cloudy skies since leaving Balboa, the weather has improved markedly. Yesterday was particularly beautiful, so for the first time, we climbed up on top ofthe bridge, and I made this panorama out of ten separate photos.
Panorama from above the bridge of the Cap Cleveland
We are currently at 8° 42′ 11.7″ S 122° 45′ 42.58″ W, en route to Auckland, New Zealand. Last night we gained another hour, making the ship’s time UTC -8.
Of all the fears one might have in advance of boarding a container ship for 28 days (and I believe Stephanie may have experienced them all), the thing that concerned me the most was that the food would be horrible. At one point I started reading an account of someone else’s container ship voyage, and abruptly stopped at the point where they started complaining about breakfast—with an image of liverwurst on toast stuck in my head.
As an insurance policy, Stephanie and I visited a Trader Joe’s in New Jersey before we left and stocked up on a treasure trove of nuts, pretzels, dried fruits, and Mojo Bars. How much beer and wine would you bring for 28 days at sea? We picked up four six-packs (Bear Republic Racer 5 IPA, Rogue American Amber Ale, Flying Dog In-Heat Wheat Hefeweisen, and Leffe Blonde) and 4 bottles of wine. If we needed to supplement that, apparently we could buy beer and wine on board.
Danilo in the galley
Like most fears of the unknown, mine were unfounded. Completely and utterly. The Cap Cleveland is currently served by an amazing chief cook, Danilo (dan-E-lo) and his messman (or steward) Cyrille (SIGH-ril). Our first night on board we went down for dinner and discovered we were having a pork chop with gravy and Greek salad. The first shock was the prominent portion of meat—I could only imagine what must have been going through Stephanie’s head. We’re not vegetarians by any means, but we cook with meat infrequently at home. The pork chop turned out to be very good, but I chuckled at my first thought: “Meat with gravy every night—it could be worse!”
The next morning that day’s menu listed breakfast as “eggs served your way, bacon or sausage, croissants”. We asked for our eggs scrambled and bacon, but something got lost in translation, and we got “ham and eggs”. It was good, but it was a Wednesday, and my weekday breakfast is usually just tea and a granola bar, so I felt stuffed. Lunch was gravy on pork sausage, but I’d barely digested breakfast, so I stuck to the soup, which is served with every lunch. Dinner was chicken with grapes, and although I had resigned myself to 28 days of meat with gravy, I was impressed by the subtle touch of sliced grapes in a light sauce over the sauteed chicken breast.
This is about the time we really started to suffer from lack of air conditioning, and thus lack of appetite. There was a passable cheeseburger one night, and slightly undercooked pizza upon our return from Savannah, but those were probably the only low points the whole trip—American food no less! Thankfully the AC was fixed in Savannah, which provided the comfort we needed to better appreciate our meals (not to mention a barbecue party to lift the spirits).
Justin (still waking up) in the officer’s mess
That Saturday, I went down for breakfast and had a raisin pancake (apparently a Filipino specialty?). It was great. For lunch the soup was borscht, which I was prepared to decline with visions of cold beet soup in my head, but they served a hot borscht with tender chunks of stew beef. It was wonderful. At about this point we started to realize that everything was homemade. This was soup made from scratch, or nearly so. It could have been lunch by itself, but it was followed by a tasty quarter of roast chicken with mashed potatoes and steamed vegetables.
Even though meat or fish plays a prominent role in every lunch and dinner on the ship, they are always balanced with some form of “starch”, usually rice, pasta, or potatoes, and some vegetables. It’s very manly eating (oh right, I forgot, we’re traveling on a container ship with a bunch of seamen), but it’s more balanced than how we tend to eat at home. Even though we’re eating more and exerting less than usual, Stephanie likes to proclaim, “It’s ok because it’s so balanced!” Dinner that night was baked cod with shrimp fried rice. The meat with gravy trend was finally broken—we were going to be just fine. Especially with Nutella as a standard condiment on the table.
The other remarkable thing, after nearly three weeks on the ship, is that only three or four meals have been duplicated. We’ve had incredibly tender steak topped with compound butter, spaghetti bolognese with a homemade sauce, served, somewhat strangely, with fried chicken wings (when we mentioned it to Jeoffrey, the third mate, he said, “Oh yeah, just like they do at Jollybee, a fast food restaurant in the Philippines”), homemade spring rolls (after mentioning lumpia), chicken fricassee, lightly fried whole fish, green bean and spinach soup (apparently it’s a traditional Filipino lentil dish), homemade cream of mushroom soup, lamb stew, roast turkey, beef stroganoff, homemade Russian meatball raviolis, and the list goes on.
Dessert is usually a piece of fruit: strawberries, pears, apples, watermelon, or orange slices. Last night we had baked pears with chocolate sauce! And if that wasn’t enough, they also bake breads and pastries. Like these homemade donuts that forced Stephanie to break her one-donut-a-year rule!
When we first boarded the Cap Cleveland in Philadelphia, we climbed up a gangway to the main deck. The deck wraps all the way around the ship, 220 meters from stern to bow. Along the sides it’s more like a tunnel, with containers stacked above the walkway right up to the edge of the ship. At the bow is the forecastle, an open area in front of the containers that contains the mooring lines, two anchors, and a mast with horns and lights. The main deck at the stern is a large open area with a ceiling of containers stacked above it.
The white superstructure rises from the main deck near the back of the ship. Sometimes it’s referred to as the “accommodations” because it’s where everyone sleeps. We spend most of our time here. At the main deck, the rooms are only accessible from the outside, and there’s not much for us there besides the gym, which has some weight lifting equipment, a stationary bike, table tennis, and ironically, a rowing machine.
Superstructure of the Cap Cleveland
In order to get inside the superstructure, there are external stairs from the main deck up to the Poop-deck. This is where they held the barbecue party. Inside there is central hallway that goes straight through from port to starboard with rooms on either side. The rooms on the Poop-deck deal primarily with ship maintenance and engineering, including the entrance to the engine room, which occupies the space below and behind the superstructure.
At the center of the superstructure is a stairway that leads to each of the decks. The A-deck has the officer’s mess (where we eat), the crew mess, and a crew recreation room, etc. The B-deck has the majority of the crew’s accommodations. The C-deck has accommodations for crew members with higher rank. The D-deck has our room (the owner’s cabin), as well as some of the high ranking officers’ cabins. The E-deck has the captain’s and the chief engineer’s cabins. And finally there’s the Nav-Deck, or bridge, where the ship is navigated. The photo above shows each deck fairly well.
So for the most part, we’re either climbing up two levels to hang out on the bridge, or heading down three levels to the A-deck for our meals. To visit the gym or just get outside and walk around, we head down to the Poop Deck, exit the superstructure, and take the external stairs to the main deck. The gym is right there on the port side, and it’s a short walk (less than 220 meters) to the forecastle. Other than just walking around, there’s not much to do there, plus the crew is often working (painting, sanding, welding, etc.), so we’ve really only been up to the forecastle two or three times.
Each level of the superstructure also has an external deck, with additional staircases on each side that go all the way from the bridge to the main deck. The D-deck has wings at the back corners that stick out over the decks below it, giving us a relatively unobstructed view ahead and behind the ship. Of course the smokestacks rise up right behind the superstructure, so it’s not exactly a quiet or clean environment. Sometimes if we want to spend a long time out in the sun reading, we’ll bring earplugs. And over time little bits of oily black carbon drop out of the exhaust and start collecting on the ground. Still, it’s nice to have this whole space to ourselves, with a view as far as the eye can see.
We are currently at 3° 23′ 59.81″ S 108° 35′ 50.74″ W, en route to Auckland, New Zealand. Last night we gained an hour, making the ship’s time UTC -7, equivalent to US Pacific Time.
I’ve taken a lot of photos from the bridge looking forward, so here’s one from the starboard side of the forecastle looking towards the bridge. I took this while we were on our way to Cartagena, the first time Stephanie and I walked around the ship.
