Who’s at sea and where do you work?
Discussion
dukeboy749r said:
Also, for a land person fascinated by such behemoths, should something occur at the bow, how do you a) know and b) get there?
The accomodation block is towards the bow. This is the view looking forward from the wheelhouse (in port at Algecerias).The engine room is towards the stern. You can walk the length of the ship on the main deck outside in the weather or in the compainionway that runs the full length of the ship one deck below the main deck. There's also an extensive CCTV system.
paralla said:
dukeboy749r said:
Also, for a land person fascinated by such behemoths, should something occur at the bow, how do you a) know and b) get there?
The engine room is towards the stern. You can walk the length of the ship on the main deck outside in the weather or in the compainionway that runs the full length of the ship one deck below the main deck. There's also an extensive CCTV system.For many years I used to go offshore on construction vessels when we were building, extending or removing subsea oilfields.
I had some great times offshore and really enjoyed the work, Being on a construction vessel was always different to a platform as you had the sense of shared purpose, we were all there trying to achieve the same goal generally.
Picture below is a career highlight, installing brand new flexible risers into the new Glen Lyon FPSO, 2 large high end construction vessels working in tandem on either side of the massive FPSO. Going to within 20m of the floater during the cross-haul, while another vessel was working in the swing cirlce was the stuff of fantasy especially west of Shetland but we did it to great effect. I was on both the Viking Neptun and the North sea Atlantic that year and was onboard the Neptun when we handed over the final riser. We are nearing the 10yr mark for that job and we all look back on it with a massive sense of pride!
Subsequently I was also responsible for the installation of the flexible risers and umbilicals to the Aoka Mizu FPSO that someone has posted on the first page of the thread. That wasn't quite as smooth an operation but we got there in the end after a few hairy moments, but that's a story for another day
I had some great times offshore and really enjoyed the work, Being on a construction vessel was always different to a platform as you had the sense of shared purpose, we were all there trying to achieve the same goal generally.
Picture below is a career highlight, installing brand new flexible risers into the new Glen Lyon FPSO, 2 large high end construction vessels working in tandem on either side of the massive FPSO. Going to within 20m of the floater during the cross-haul, while another vessel was working in the swing cirlce was the stuff of fantasy especially west of Shetland but we did it to great effect. I was on both the Viking Neptun and the North sea Atlantic that year and was onboard the Neptun when we handed over the final riser. We are nearing the 10yr mark for that job and we all look back on it with a massive sense of pride!
Subsequently I was also responsible for the installation of the flexible risers and umbilicals to the Aoka Mizu FPSO that someone has posted on the first page of the thread. That wasn't quite as smooth an operation but we got there in the end after a few hairy moments, but that's a story for another day
Gaspowered said:
Gaspowered said:
LNG tankers for me. Currently bobbing of Singapore waiting for our next port. I’m on 3 months on and 3 off so not too bad when it comes to time spent at home. I’m not sure I could do a 9 to 5 job now.
If anyone still cares, I’m still bobbing off Singapore paralla said:
dukeboy749r said:
Also, for a land person fascinated by such behemoths, should something occur at the bow, how do you a) know and b) get there?
The accomodation block is towards the bow. This is the view looking forward from the wheelhouse (in port at Algecerias).The engine room is towards the stern. You can walk the length of the ship on the main deck outside in the weather or in the compainionway that runs the full length of the ship one deck below the main deck. There's also an extensive CCTV system.
You may have seen many a quaint craft in your day, for aught I know;—square-toed luggers; mountainous Japanese junks; butter-box galliots, and what not; but take my word for it, you never saw such a rare old craft as this same rare old Pequod. She was a ship of the old school, rather small if anything; with an old-fashioned claw-footed look about her.
Long seasoned and weather-stained in the typhoons and calms of all four oceans, her old hull’s complexion was darkened like a French grenadier’s, who has alike fought in Egypt and Siberia. Her venerable bows looked bearded. Her masts—cut somewhere on the coast of Japan, where her original ones were lost overboard in a gale—her masts stood stiffly up like the spines of the three old kings of Cologne. Her ancient decks were worn and wrinkled, like the pilgrim-worshipped flag-stone in Canterbury Cathedral where Becket bled. But to all these her old antiquities, were added new and marvellous features, pertaining to the wild business that for more than half a century she had followed. Old Captain Peleg, many years her chief-mate, before he commanded another vessel of his own, and now a retired seaman, and one of the principal owners of the Pequod,—this old Peleg, during the term of his chief-mateship, had built upon her original grotesqueness, and inlaid it, all over, with a quaintness both of material and device, unmatched by anything except it be Thorkill-Hake’s carved buckler or bedstead. She was apparelled like any barbaric Ethiopian emperor, his neck heavy with pendants of polished ivory. She was a thing of trophies. A cannibal of a craft, tricking herself forth in the chased bones of her enemies. All round, her unpanelled, open bulwarks were garnished like one continuous jaw, with the long sharp teeth of the sperm whale, inserted there for pins, to fasten her old hempen thews and tendons to. Those thews ran not through base blocks of land wood, but deftly travelled over sheaves of sea-ivory. Scorning a turnstile wheel at her reverend helm, she sported there a tiller; and that tiller was in one mass, curiously carved from the long narrow lower jaw of her hereditary foe. The helmsman who steered by that tiller in a tempest, felt like the Tartar, when he holds back his fiery steed by clutching its jaw.
A noble craft, but somehow a most melancholy! All noble things are touched with that.
Long seasoned and weather-stained in the typhoons and calms of all four oceans, her old hull’s complexion was darkened like a French grenadier’s, who has alike fought in Egypt and Siberia. Her venerable bows looked bearded. Her masts—cut somewhere on the coast of Japan, where her original ones were lost overboard in a gale—her masts stood stiffly up like the spines of the three old kings of Cologne. Her ancient decks were worn and wrinkled, like the pilgrim-worshipped flag-stone in Canterbury Cathedral where Becket bled. But to all these her old antiquities, were added new and marvellous features, pertaining to the wild business that for more than half a century she had followed. Old Captain Peleg, many years her chief-mate, before he commanded another vessel of his own, and now a retired seaman, and one of the principal owners of the Pequod,—this old Peleg, during the term of his chief-mateship, had built upon her original grotesqueness, and inlaid it, all over, with a quaintness both of material and device, unmatched by anything except it be Thorkill-Hake’s carved buckler or bedstead. She was apparelled like any barbaric Ethiopian emperor, his neck heavy with pendants of polished ivory. She was a thing of trophies. A cannibal of a craft, tricking herself forth in the chased bones of her enemies. All round, her unpanelled, open bulwarks were garnished like one continuous jaw, with the long sharp teeth of the sperm whale, inserted there for pins, to fasten her old hempen thews and tendons to. Those thews ran not through base blocks of land wood, but deftly travelled over sheaves of sea-ivory. Scorning a turnstile wheel at her reverend helm, she sported there a tiller; and that tiller was in one mass, curiously carved from the long narrow lower jaw of her hereditary foe. The helmsman who steered by that tiller in a tempest, felt like the Tartar, when he holds back his fiery steed by clutching its jaw.
A noble craft, but somehow a most melancholy! All noble things are touched with that.
Not on the water - but working these last couple of weeks in the Port of Rotterdam - man this is a busy port, we have had heavy lift barges here collecting sea bed cable tech, container ships, bridge pylon barges.
I am not part of the water, ship or anything to do with the sea, but working here on a car launch event.
Anyone here in the port?
I am not part of the water, ship or anything to do with the sea, but working here on a car launch event.
Anyone here in the port?
brums evil twin said:
Not on the water - but working these last couple of weeks in the Port of Rotterdam - man this is a busy port, we have had heavy lift barges here collecting sea bed cable tech, container ships, bridge pylon barges.
I am not part of the water, ship or anything to do with the sea, but working here on a car launch event.
Anyone here in the port?
Spent a big chunk of last year there, modifying some power generation equipment that was being stored in one of the bonded areas. I do agree it’s a fascinating place and on my radar for the current job search. I am not part of the water, ship or anything to do with the sea, but working here on a car launch event.
Anyone here in the port?
The warehouse we were at was dockside. Some days a 10,000T crane barge would appear for offloading barges. These guys were moving 3-4000T pieces of equipment inside the warehouse with no fuss whatsoever. Very different from my line of work where 55T is considered a heavy lift!
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