Going “foreign”

 We sailed out of the Irish Sea and left coastal Britain behind.

As we steered South South West (SSW) we crossed over the continental shelf and truly could say we were “deep sea” sailing. For the first time I was at sea going towards foreign countries, in this case the North West coast of Spain.

To reach their we must cross the Bay of Biscay, notorious for its gales and enormous swell driven by the South Westerly prevailing winds coming all the way across the Atlantic Ocean. Yes, we today were truly in an ocean, no longer a sea.

There are several “markers” that tell you that you have left coastal waters and entered an ocean regime.

Birds that wheel around the ship zigzagging around the wake looking for food are completely absent. Both land and seabirds are gone. They are not true ocean birds like the albatross and need to return to land.

Maritime traffic also changes. There is much less recreational boats and local fishermen. They too have their land-based bases to return to. Of course, there are deep-sea fisherman offshore to keep an eye on. Other merchant ships are also present but in a more ordered manner. No longer traffic coming from all directions but more of an ocean motorway with ships going in the same direction or opposite direction. In fact, in some congested straits and channels there are traffic separation schemes (TSS) that regulate the routes of marine traffic.

In the Bay of Biscay traffic is usually heading south to the Mediterranean or north to Europe so there is plenty of passing ships to see.

One becomes familiar with ships by their flag and colour scheme. The flag or ensign denotes

country of registration of the ship and is usually flown at the stern. The colour scheme of a ship often clearly identifies the owning company of the ship. Brocklebanks, for example, has a black hull with a white band. The funnel is black with blue and white band on it and the name of a ship also provides a clue to its identity. In the case of Brocklebanks they were all Indian names and my first ship was named “Mahout”.

I had heard the Second Mate telling tales to the other apprentices how bad the Bay of Biscay can be. Not more days with gales, being wet and seasick surely.

He talked about places Ushant and Finisterre as important places in navigation, so I needed to find out. Colin, our all-knowing senior apprentice explained. “Boyo”, he said, in his soft lilting Welsh accent, “they are lighthouses used as marking points in planning the voyage of a ship. Rounding these points is seen as a marking of a passage in the voyage and the start or completion of a difficult passage. Ushant and Finisterre are the guardian lighthouses at the northern and southern extremities of the Bay of Biscay separating France and Spain. This large open part of the Atlantic Ocean had been feared by seafarers for centuries.

Escaping the tobacco laden atmosphere in the messroom by Colin puffing on his pipe as he pontificated on maritime geography, I searched for these headlands to no avail. Colin told us that the first landfall would be Cape Finisterre, probably around noon.

For my first trip the Bay was behaving with blue sky and a deep blue ocean we rolled our way across in a light SW ‘Ly swell at our sedate 8 knots. Now in the 3rd day of the voyage I was settling into the 4 to 8 nature of watches and starting to enjoy myself.

Figure 1 Courtesy Deensel (CCBY 2.0)

On the 6^th. day in the late afternoon I spotted my first foreign landfall on the port bow, Cape Finisterre, in fact my first foreign country having never been abroad before. Very exciting. The very word Finisterre meant “end of the earth” in Roman times so was it believed before the age of discovery later.

 My companions in the Apprentice accommodation were also settling down and Ralph, one of the other “first trippers” shared a room with me taking the lower bunk. We exchanged our experiences and our knowledge of how the ship ran increased rapidly. Ralph was on the four to eight with the chief officer. One morning “the Mate” told him to report to “Chippy” at 7:00 AM and do the rounds with him! Chippy is the ship's Carpenter and is responsible for checking the integrity of the ship. Although we are a steel ship, it is just as Patrick O'Brien has described in his book. The Carpenter reported in those days every watch how much water there was in the bilges of those wooden ships. So, every morning at 7:00 AM chippy went around the ship “sounding bilges”. This involved unscrewing a brass cap on the deck and lowering a brass rod on a rope till there was a dull thud as it reached the bottom of somewhere, I know not but as described as “bilges”. 

Bilges, it turns out are the lowest level in the ship where water collects from leaks and whenever there is damage to the outer hull, it is the bilges that receive the ingress of water. This is a simplistic explanation but all I needed at this stage. Colin said, with a huge grin on his face, I would become much more acquainted with double bottom tanks and bilges after we had discharged our cargo. Not sure I liked the sound of that!

The next day watch 12 noon to 4pm we were coasting down the Portuguese coast, and I mentioned to the Second Mate what Colin had told me that headlands and lighthouses were important navigation points in planning a voyage. “Come”, he said, “I am checking the courses for the next couple of days, you can see what I do”. “You need to learn a little of this when you go for your tickets”. Not sure what he meant but thought it may have something to do with studying for my first officers’ certificate, 2^nd. Mates, some 4 years away!

 

 

 

 

He produced a table and explained what they were:

Position	Course	Distance	To go
C. Finisterre 106 x 10’			541
C. Roca 093 x 10’	183	251	290
C. St. Vincent 075 x 5’	165	111	179
C. Trafalgar 023 x 12’	113	154	25
Isla Tarifa 006 x 3’	096	25	0

 

The position is an important navigation point where we change course. So, we start from a position with C. St. Vincent bearing 106(T) at 10 nautical miles. We have 541 nautical miles to go to Isla Tarifa just west of Gibralter.Then we steer 183 degrees (true) for a distance of 251 nautical miles until we come to Cape Roca bearing 093(T) at a distance of 10 nautical miles.

These positions and courses we lay off on the chart and measure our progress by checking our position either by radar or by taking compass bearings from the wing of the bridge repeater. “Do you get the idea?” I replied that it seemed complicated but would follow what he did. So began my first introduction to coastal navigation!

However, much more interesting was to use the binoculars to gaze at these foreign coasts. Very different to what I was used to in Yorkshire. Undulating hills with steep cliffs coming down to sandy bays and beaches populated by white houses. Wow!

We passed Lisbon and continued our way south towards one of the major headlands of Cape St. Vincent. Then we changed to more easterly course and headed for Cape Trafalgar of English naval history significance before continuing eastward to the Straits of Gibraltar.

At this point the Chief Engineer came on the bridge and told the Second Officer to tell the captain that we were not making enough fresh water for the boilers that fed the steam driven triple expansion engine and that we would need to enter Gibraltar for water.

So we struggled through the straits against a strong westward flowing current and finally entered Gibraltar harbour, my first foreign port. This was going to be exciting!