Surviving entry into a foreign country

 

Surviving entry into a foreign country

The plane came to a stop and the seatbelt signed pinged and switched off. It was if it signalled the start of a race or the commencement of a rugby scrum! People pushed and shoved, climbed over seated persons to reach the aisle, and establish a place in a queue for a cabin door that was not even open! Overhead bin doors flew open and without any regard to people below dragged out their luggage and forced a place in the queue for it. If their baggage was not adjacent to their seat, they pushed past with the determination of a scrum forward without apology or concern for others. What is it in us that brings out this behaviour?

Having checked in baggage I knew there was no need to rush so sat back and enjoyed the debacle of sensible people reduced to a rabble in their urge to leave the plane.

The door opened and the pushing started but also a sense of decency returned as people waited for others to rise and exit their seats. Soon the pace of exit reduced to a trickle, and we rose, collected our bags, checked we had not left anything in the seat pockets and left, thanking the air hostesses for their service.

Outside the aircraft there were a couple of guys just watching us as we went up the ramp. They were in civilian clothes, and it looked as though they were customs or immigration checking us out!

Came to the top of the ramp and then came the information overload. Signs for everything in all directions! Stopped, got bumped by passengers behind me as they raced for the exit but finally deciphered the two most important signs we needed, baggage reclaims and toilets! Then started a long walk with escalators and left and right turns until we came to a large sign that read “You are now entering the UK border control area! More intimidating than welcoming. More signs separating Europeans from non-Europeans, so we chose the queue for Europeans and prepared ourselves for the automatic electronic scan system with my passport. Chose my UK passport and stepped onto the yellow footprints on the floor, removed my cap and inserted my passport into the scanner. No response as I waited and waited. Reread the instructions and began to panic thinking of all the people behind me in the queue getting impatient. Still no response from the machine. In desperation I turned the passport upside down and bingo it worked, and a picture of my face was taken and the gate to the UK opened.

One down 2 to go.

The baggage hall was enormous, and an overhead screen announced that our baggage would arrive on belt two. Dutifully checked the belt signs and walked down the hall. The belt was stationery and the overhead sign said last bag on the belt for passengers from Stockholm. A guy removed all the last remaining bags and there began the scrum to be nearest to the chute ejecting the bags onto the belt. Never mind the yellow safety lines just get close to the belt seemed to be the objective. Having learnt the folly of such a move I went to the other end of the belt were there were less people. Suddenly a light came on over the belt and a bell sounded and everyone became agitated, the bags are coming and so they did. Everything from large well wrapped packages to rucksacks and suitcases that had not survived the baggage handlers and were disgorging their contents on the belt!

Round and round went the bags, saw that red one last time round, where is my small black suitcase with a red address label? There it is, so excused myself and got to the front and extracted the suitcase.

Now for the next hurdle, customs. Choose the green channel passing two nonchalant customs officers leaning against the wall with their eyes everywhere. I wonder what they are looking for. Passed by the inspection area and could not help a peep into it and sure enough there was a family with large suitcases having to unpack them for inspection.

A sliding door opened, and we had entered the UK and it was complete chaos. People lined up against a barrier with name tags or just searching for faces, happy reunions and business people being rushed away to their booked transport.

Again information overload and we scanned for car rentals and followed the signs. More confusion as we must take a lift down to the next level. Remembered where the car rental office was and headed for it only to find it was a building site and we were redirected to the multistorey carpark second level.

There we were met by a friendly attendant who led us to our little Fiat 500 and after checking it for damage we were off or were we. How do we get out of this place!

 

 

 

 

Surviving the flight

 

Surviving the flight

“Go to gate” said the overhead screen as we drank our coffee in the departure lounge. We know what that means so we did not hurry to finish the coffee but slowly wandered to the gate and saw what we expected. A queue had already formed even after the departure attendant had said that boarding would not start for ten minutes.

However, I have learnt to watch this departure official in the past. Just before announcing boarding, they go down to the aircraft to check all is ready. As there were a few seats left from persons choosing to queue we sat down and watched.

Sure enough she returned and announced that they would be boarding families with children first. Did this deter the queue, not at all and the young families had to push their way to the front to board. A sort of rugby scrum approach.

Then she declared they would be boarding the rear seating passengers first and again the queue remained, and everyone pushed and shoved to get through irrespective of seat number. We waited until most persons had boarded knowing that overhead baggage space might now be limited.

Boarding is a stop go experience as persons find their seat extract their belongings and gear for the flight and restow their bag in the overhead bins. No amount of pleas from the flight attendant to sit down asap changes that. Everyone has their own pace. Experience has taught me to extract my book and gear as I walk down the aisle so I can sling my bag in a vacant space in the overhead bin and move straight into my seat without disturbing too many people. However, we had a plan.

From past experience we had learnt that in three rows of seats it could be a problem if one of the passengers was overweight, nee fat and had the middle seat. They took over both arm rests and their wider than normal legs required them to spread their legs encroaching on adjacent passenger leg room. The result for others was an excruciating 3-hour torture scrunched up on your side trying to avoid the sweaty body next to you!

So, rather selfishly we book either adjacent aisle seats, easier for the loo trip or take the window and aisle seat leaving the middle seat vacant. That way we lesson the chance of it being used. However, it is an anxious time as you sit and observe the persons boarding. Oh no, not that tall wide man or I hope that lady with the crying baby does not want 10b. Whew, boarding complete is announced and we can settle down to a comfortable flight.

Then we are introduced to the safety briefing and no one I mean no one pays any attention! I do, where is my nearest exit and is there really a lifejacket under my seat. I have experienced once that was nothing there! Briefing complete, out comes the Kindle and noise cancelling headset and everything is fine.

Follow all the instructions for take-off and I must remind the person in front to open the window blinds and then the flight starts. A bumpy period that hushes most people but as soon as we are airborne and climbing the buzz of chatter increases. Pling, the seat belt signs signify we can release them if we wish, and café service will begin shortly and there is a rush for the toilet!

Another thing I have learnt is that if you have a seat towards the rear, it is a gamble whether there will be any warm baguettes left. Seating nearer the front increases the chance of food choice.

Chose coffee and was pleasantly surprised to find it was free so no body contortion to extract my wallet from my back pocket.

If you have the window seat it might be possible to get glimpses of the earth below depending on the weather and as a past geographer, it is always a pleasure to try and identify the area below. Is that Denmark and was that the east coast of the UK? A real pleasure to ancient mariners.

Three hours pass and the pilot announces we will be landing in 20 minutes, and we should follow the instructions of the flight attendant. So my mental planning starts on how we will survive the hurdle of arrival!

Catching a flight

 

 

Surviving holiday air travel

It is all about luck whether you make it without incident. Take the case of our trip to the UK.

Normally we like to take an early flight out and a late flight back. This is both cheaper and gives you more time on your holiday destination.

Early means a 7.30 or 8am departure! So up at 0430, no breakfast and constantly checking out of the window for the taxi, hope it is on time and it is. Final check on pockets, passport, tickets, wallet, mobile and spectacles. All in order and we take the taxi to the station to catch one of the first airport express trains. At this time of the morning there are few travellers, a smattering of airport workers and flight attendants clutching cups of coffee. We have learnt it is best to try for the front of the train and we are helped by the letters on the station floor. Letter C will get us in the first carriage so long as it is a short train.

On time the train arrives, there is a rush of air, and the doors open, and we manhandle our luggage on board to find there are a lot of travellers and our luggage must stand in the aisle. By the time we have done this there are a few single seats scattered here and there. Kindly ask a lady to move her bag from a vacant seat so I can sit down, and we are off.

Thirty minutes later the train tannoy announces we are arriving at the airport. Immediately people stand up and jostle for position at the same time try to extract their luggage from the racks. Chaos, best to remain seated and wait for them to clear the door. Calmly exit the train with luggage and join the queue to go through the turnstile onto the platform. A lady is having trouble with her mobile app so with a deft and quick manoeuvre we change lanes and get through. One of the conveyer moving stairs is not working so a queue is backed up to the platform. Nothing to do but be patient, we have plenty of time.

The departure hall is absolutely full and complete chaos reigns. Then I remembered, it is the first day after the schools break up for summer and everyone, I mean everyone is out travelling! This going to be a nightmare. However, check in went reasonably smoothly and we got our baggage tags and paper boarding cards for extra security. Where is the back of the queue for baggage drop, I enquired. About 200 metres that way said a smug person at the front of the queue. Well, well I hope we make the flight in time. Forty minutes later we cleared baggage drop and prepared ourselves for the next hurdle, security. Waiting time 15 minutes it said, not too bad, and then a lady redirected us to a new queue which seemed shorter. Great, time to prepare, belt off, all things out of pockets, rucksack in one tray all the other objects in another, Shoes included because I have two artificial knees, I know the procedure if I do not put the shoes through first, they will be passed back for a second run the machine.

Passed through the machine and it beeped and showed red as I pointed at my stainless-steel knees. Knowing the procedure I stood on the yellow footprints, raised my arms over my head and waited for the machine to do its job. The lady gestured for me to exit and turn around as she patted me down first with hands and then with a portable machine. All OK but out of interest I asked to see the picture taken and it did not reveal my knees, only the metal buttons on my shirt. Well, Well.

Searched for my two trays but only one was available. The second one with the rucksack was in the clutches of a man who asked, Is this your bag sir? Yes, I said sure that I had checked everything that might be a problem in my checked in luggage. A check on the screen and he extracted my Kindle from the sack. This should have been placed separately on a tray, I was informed. No point in arguing that a Kindle is not a PC so smiled at him and he let me go.

Clutching my 2 trays whilst at the same time trying to keep my trousers from falling down I tiptoed on my stocking feet to a free table and started the laborious task for getting dressed again! Double check, passport, boarding card, mobile, wallet and spectacles. All in order and ready for the next challenge, finding the gate and getting some breakfast.

Skirted around the duty-free shops and headed for passport control as we were leaving the Schengen region. Two queues, one for Europeans and one for others! With the luxury of dual citizenship, I chose to use my brand-new Norwegian passport and sailed through the system.

Exhausted and needing to sit down we found a café with a couple of seats and ordered coffee and a baguette. Half an hour later the information board stated, “go to gate” and we were off another obstacle race called air travel.

 

 

Navigating the hotel buffet

 

Navigating the hotel buffet breakfast

It starts with timing. When between the opening and closing time should you venture onto the breakfast floor? Should you go early hoping to miss the crowds eager to fill their stomachs or late just before closing to have a relatively free run?

Whenever you go it starts with a queue and the inevitable identity check. Room number now displays your passport photo so there is no doubt who is eligible to enter.

No free choice of table, you are steered to an available area. You are lucky if you get a sea view.

Given a table and a pot of coffee enables you to plan your next move. A reconnaissance is needed to find out where your favourite cereals are plus a navigation plan to avoid queues especially for the English breakfast.

OK, we will start with a rapid expedition to cereals and juice with a detour to avoid the coffee machines and the queue for the toaster.

Safely back at the table and time to relax and enjoy the start of breakfast.

Cereals finished and the plate whipped away immediately after my last mouthful it is time for the big tour!

Quick observation shows that the queue around the toaster is not too long, and they have just refreshed the bacon and sausage area so it will be an English breakfast. Off the starting blocks, picked up a plate and 2 pieces of bread and arrived at the toaster to find a tourist has taken charge of the queue. After reminding us that his toast is first, he said it was OK to place my bread behind his! Toast finished, jogged over to the English breakfast queue, and started to load a fried egg, a sausage and one piece of bacon when a large, no, fat German pushed in and loaded three of everything on his plate and waddled off holding his plate with both hands.

Back at the table and pleasantly satisfied with a second cup of coffee it is time to enjoy the circus they call buffet breakfast.

There is at least a couple of hundred guests in this long room all vying for food. Mostly European with a majority being English and German they come in all shapes and sizes. Young, old, skinny and fat they rush around in a kaleidoscope of bright clothing or sometimes next to no clothes at all! Clearly some have just arrived. A little self-conscious and unsure of their holiday dress code they stand out with their pale skins. In contrast those that have been here a few days are either brown or red depending on their exposure to the sun.

A constant flow of bodies to and fro provides a pageant of colour and culture that is the hallmark of the holiday hotel buffet breakfast.

 

Off to sea

 

“Saab—Saab”. I heard this voice in my ear. “It’s quarter bell”. “Thanks”, I said to the purri-wallah leaning over me to make sure I was awake. “I’m up now”. The Indian lookout disappeared, and I checked my watch. 2345, so quarter bell means quarter to the start of my watch.

As I stood up, I noticed that the deck kept moving and I was having trouble keeping my balance as I struggled into my still sticky oilskins. Not only that but there was a background noise of water rushing aft and now and then the ship shuddered as she shouldered a wave. Wow, we must be at sea now.

Still a little sleepy after only a couple of hours “kip” the slang word I heard Colin use to mean a short snooze I opened the door to the deck, and it was ripped from my hand and slammed into the bulkhead. “Damn”, hope it did not waken the others”!! The wind was strong, and I could see nothing in the pitch blackness of the night, no stars, no moon, just black everywhere. Door shut I staggered forward along the boat deck from one handhold to the next as the deck constantly heaved up in front of me, slid to port and then to starboard. Then I remembered the advice my grandfather had given me, “one hand for the ship and one hand for yourself”, he said. Definitely needed two hands for myself here, I thought, bugger the ship! Every time the ship rolled the sea seemed to come and meet the ship and then I saw huge waves with breaking tops. Oi this must be a gale, I thought.

Found the bridge ladders and clambered up to the bridge. Searched for the door to the bridge. No handle so with eyes only inches from the door I came across a a sort of brass recess set in the door and tugged it. Nothing happened so tried again and the door started to slide aft. Ah, it is a sliding door, must remember that. Opened it and stepped inside.

“Shut that bloody door”, I recognised the Glaswegian accent of the Second Officer as I bumped into the

engine telegraph. Not a good start to my watch. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness on the bridge an elderly man with grey hair and 4 large gold stripes on his uniform jacket came up to me and said in a gentle voice,” you should always enter the bridge through the leeward door, that is the door on the opposite side to the wind”. “Yes sir, sorry”, I replied thinking this apprentice had a lot to learn on the job!

As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could see out of the bridge windows that spray was flying up over the deck and the ship was rolling quite slowly from port to starboard as well as pitching up and down. Every time her bow went into a wave there was a loud bang, the ship shuddered, and spray shot up over the bow. The second officer was stationed in front of a circular rotating glass window that gave him better visibility outside. Having trouble keeping my feet and not knowing what to do I stood by the engine telegraph noticing it indicated that we were going full ahead!

The second officer had disappeared through a curtain into a room behind the bridge when he shouted” make yourself useful and make some tea”. “The kettle is on the shelf beside you, and you fill it from the bathroom behind the chartroom, there”! So that room is called the chartroom. Duly picked up the kettle and staggered across the bridge and through a curtain into a room with a large table facing the bridge on which was a chart and a low light over the chart. OK onto the bathroom and fill the kettle, back to the bridge and plugged in the kettle and waited. Some minutes passed and then a broad Glaswegian voice Was heard; Well, where is the tea?” “The water hasn’t boiled sir”. “You need to switch it on here, you stupid boy!” “Sorry sir I said feeling absolutely despondent and useless. After all I came from Yorkshire and making tea is second nature to us!

“OK, that is enough, get yourself up on the monkey island and keep a lookout”, ordered the second mate,” and use the leeward door”!

So, I was been sent outside into to the wind and rain to some place called a “monkey island”! Outside on the bridge wing it was difficult to keep my feet and see. However, he had said up to the monkey island, so I scouted around and found a vertical iron ladder behind the leeward bridge door. That must be it, so I started to climb up being alternatively hanging on for dear life as the bridge seem to topple over me and then on the next roll the ladder approached the horizontal. Hang on, hang on I thought.

Over the top of the ladder was a platform with a large round object surrounded at waist height by a wooden rail. Not a lot of protection from the weather but at least a rail to hang on to. I peered at the object and through a small window in a brass cover I saw it was a magnetic compass and the compass card was swinging wildly around. So, this is the monkey island but why “monkey”.

Later I found out that there is no real explanation for the term although in sailing ships it was often placed high on the fore or main mast and sailors climbed like monkeys to reach it! Thankfully although I was above the bridge, I was not that high in this weather!

Keeping a lookout seemed impossible as every time I poked my head above the rail my face was stung by salt spray and rain and I could see nothing!

Suddenly there was a muffled whistle from the side of the binnacle housing the compass. There was a brass tube with a cover on it. Lifting it gingerly I peered down it, nothing to see so I said “hello” and there it was that broad Scottish accent again. OK, keep a lookout for lights and report them by blowing down the tube and then telling me what you have seen. OK? OK, sir as I replaced the voice tube cover.

No lights out there as far I could see but anyway this was my duty so braving the driving rain and spray, I searched the blackness for any sign of life out there in the Irish Sea.

Peering over the monkey island rail I could see very little but soon learnt that by squinting with half shut eyes I could bear the constant battering on my face and see a black sky!

I had my oilskins on but had forgotten my sou’wester and in no time water was trickling down my neck inside my oilskins and I started to feel cold. Only four hours to go!

The motion of the ship up here so high was frightening, rolling from port to starboard and then pitching into waves with a shuddering jolt. Before long I started to feel unwell. What to do if I am sick? Should I climb down the ladder to the bridge leaving my post and search for a toilet? Circumstance decided the issue and I was sick on the monkey island! What will the second mate think? Should I tell him? Then suddenly I had uncontrolled sickness that went on for the rest of my watch. All thoughts of lookout were forgotten as cold and miserable I tried to contain my retching to no avail.

After what seemed a very long time, I heard someone climbing the ladder and Ralph, the other new apprentice appeared to start his 4-8 watch.

Not saying a word, I fled from the monkey island and reported to the second officer who was handing over the watch to the chief officer.

“Well, what a sight you look”, he said. “Get yourself to your bunk”.  Dutifully I staggered along the boat deck into our accommodation shivering and soaking wet. Shed my clothes, cleaned myself up and snuggled into my bunk promising myself that this was the first and last voyage I would do!!

Leaving port

 It’s 19:30 and it’s raining, no not raining, teeming down. The sort of rain that comes at you at an angle and you are wet overall. Well, well a good start to my first action on the ship. Report to stations for leaving port and my station is aft, apparently called the poop deck!

I stepped outside and down the ladder to the after deck trying to avoid all the rubbish and dunnage still lying on deck. As it was dark, and the deck lights were somewhat dim it was not easy.

I am glad Colin told me to put on my oilskins on over my uniform to protect it. So, with these sticky oiled cloth waterproofs I gently steered along the after deck.

Suddenly I tripped over a wire and went “arse over tit” careering along the oily wet deck on my stomach. My brand-new uniform cap with its white cover went spinning into the darkness. What a start.

Then I heard a voice, “Here it is sahib” and there in front of me grinning from ear to ear was an Indian man with bright white teeth! What is this. So, I retrieved my cap, now somewhat less than white and accompanied this person to the poop deck. There were more Indian crew. They were chattering away in a language I could not apprehend. How an earth am I going to cope as a junior officer and communicate with them.

On the poop deck I searched for the Second Officer who was in charge of the after end of the ship.

“Oh nae, not another snot nosed new apprentice, just my luck”, said the officer in a strong Glaswegian accent. Well, it looks as though my luck is out, not only Indian languages but also a Scottish accent to deal with. Oh well.

“See that silver-coloured telephone on the bulkhead over there? That is your station to relay messages to and from the bridge, understand”? Yes sir, I replied eying a box on a wall. So, bulkhead is a wall, I must remember these terms.

Open it, you idiot! Oh, I see there was a clip holding the lid on revealing a telephone handset and a big silver button. “If it rings, you pick it up and repeat the message and then relay it to me. To ring, you press the button and then speak into the handset, OK”?

Yes sir, I replied, somewhat awed by the responsibility placed on my shoulders. Nothing compared with this, being rugby captain in the under 16 team was not a patch on being part of a communication team moving a 10,000-ton ship out of a dock into a river at night. Very exciting!

Water started to seep down inside the neck of my oilskins but what could I do about it?

Eyed the telephone and as though I had wished it, it rang. I picked up the handset and voice that appeared to come from another world, much worse than those train station announcements said; “Single up”. What an earth does that mean but dutifully I repeated it to the caller who then hung up. “Single Up” I shouted to make myself heard to the Second Officer in the rain and wind. OK, he said, then complete turmoil it seemed to me as the crew ran here and there as ropes were moved to the steam winch which let out great clouds of steam before gathering speed and making any conversation impossible! After been slacked off the ropes were hauled in dripping wet and coiled down on deck. Finally, the noise abated, and I noticed that we had only one rope over the stern to the shore and on the main deck one wire leading forward to a bollard on the quay. So, this what singled up means.

“Singled up aft”, shouted the Second Officer. I lifted the phone and repeated the message. No reply! What did they say, said the Scottish second officer? Nothing, I replied. “Did you press the button first”? Sorry sir, I forgot. “Jesus Christ, well do it”. Dutifully followed orders and received acknowledgement of our status aft.

A tug appeared on the starboard side and the crew secured a wire rope to a set of bitts on the main deck. What is this for I wondered?

I did not know was that the ship was in the Vittoria dock in Birkenhead and needed to navigate through the dock and out through a lock into the river Mersey. The Vittoria dock was built in the first part of the 1900’s as part of the larger Birkenhead dock system. The dock was named after the Battle of Vittoria in 1813 when Wellington led an army to take back the Spanish peninsula. However there has always been confusion over the name and many calls it the Victoria dock in reference to Queen Victoria.

All the major liner services from Liverpool used the dock including, Blue Funnel, Clan Line, City Line and Brocklebanks.

The Vittoria dock was one of the innermost docks in the Birkenhead dock system and required the ship to pass through other docks before reaching the lock into the river Mersey. It was going to be a long and wet evening!

Then the telephone rang again. “Let go everything” from this ethereal voice so I relayed it to the Second Officer. Frantic activity with the steam winches clunking away bellowing steam until finally the stern rope and the main deck spring wire were on board.

“All gone aft”, bellowed the second officer a few minutes later. After having confirmation of the message from the bridge the whole stern of the ship started to vibrate and over the side the dirty dock water was churned up into a frothy stream. The propeller was turning, and the tug gave a single blast on its whistle and started to pull us from the dockside.

Wow I am on first voyage, what next? Well, I was soon to find out!

For a period of about an hour we were pulled and pushed gently down through the dock to the lock separating the dock system from the river. We entered the lock without our tug, the inner lock gates closed, and the ship descended as water was pumped out of the lock. Once we reached the same water level as the river the outer lock gates opened and a new river tug connected to our bow to assist us in turning in the river.

The rain continued to sluice down and by now not only was I wet through, but I was shivering from the cold. Not liking this at all, I thought.

Once in the river and the ships bow turned seawards, we let go the tug, disembarked the dock pilot, and took on a river pilot. This all happened with the use of a ladder made of rope with wooden steps that was slung over the side of the ship from the main deck. So climbing and descending rope ladders down a ships side looks like being a new experience!

The telephone rang. Finished with stations aft was the message and the Second Mate shouted that we were finished with our work on leaving port. Turing to me he said, “laddie, get back to your cabin, dry yourself off and have a nap because in an hour and half you start watches with me on the bridge”. Sounded like good advice as I scurried forward to our cabin on the boat deck.

 

Shipping for dummies - containerisation

 

Globalisation and Containerisation

The birth of the container

Background

Technology has always brought about changes in transport and shipping is no exception. It was the Industrial Revolution in the late 1800’s that brought us steel and the steam engine that enabled the birth of the steamship. The creation of the general cargo liner and its scheduled voyages brought secure and regular services globally.

This lasted well into the 1950’s when again technology changed the face of international shipping. The general cargo liner provided a custom transport service at a price. It was labour intensive and very slow with many disruptions of delivery from producer to consumer. Delays in the port because of port congestion did not help.

Deregulation

After the Second World war nations tightly controlled their economies using trade and tariff tools to boost income and setting transport prices nationally and regionally. The result was that transport and shipping costs were high and production and manufacturing of goods and services was relatively local. British cars were produced in the UK with British finance for a British market. Export of cars was relatively low.

It became clear in the 1960’s that this approach was restrictive and not boosting nationally economies as planned.

So, deregulation of trade and tariff barriers allowing market forces to take effect under GATT (The General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade) and WTO (The World Trade Organization) control came into being.

It also enabled services such as finance and transport to operate globally. Thus, a bank could offer financial services in another country and freight rates were opened to market forces.

The result was globalisation. Manufacturing and production now were free to locate wherever the cost regime was favourable to their enterprise. Nissan opened car production in the UK. Honda opened the first Japanese owned car assembly plant in the USA in 1982 and shocked competitors with its ability to organise the timely delivery of engines[1].  The notion of physical location of manufacturing with nationality was broken. -Today we are unaware of the location of many parts of production.

China, now a member of GATT and WTO, could offer low-cost production across a wide range of goods and services and we know the outcome. Western Europe and the USA lost a major part of their manufacturing industries.

Car making is one of the most complex activities with many levels of inputs with supplies crossing national boundaries many times. Many parts are plastic originating in the movement of crude oil and its refining into plastic resin and then into bumpers, steering wheels, and audio consoles, all manufactured in different location and dependent on a global logistics chain to ensure the parts arrive “just in time” for assembly.

As a result, containers carried less of finished consumer products and more of the parts and materials for production.

Unitisation

Assembling production items into larger units reduced handling and transport costs. Whether it be bottles, boxes or chests, bottles of orange juice, boxes of wine and chests of tea it changed the method of handling both on land and for maritime transport. However, the focus was on the producer and the transport firm and shippers had to deal with a variety of units and handling methods to transport the goods.

It was only later when the discipline of logistics came into being that a systems approach to production, transport and delivery of goods placed the transport requirements within a global logistics chain. The concern was not only about ship arrival in port but whether the goods train or lorries could meet their deadline to deliver the goods to the ship on time.

This brought about the need for a standardised unit load across all forms of transport. Herald the start of a process of specialisation in the shipping industry.

Specialisation

Technology can be seen as a response to a market need and so it is in the shipping industry. To lower operating costs, improve cargo handling methods, exploit the economies of scale in large scale volume unit ships and meet the specialised demands for the carriage of some goods spawned a whole new range of shipping services. Stopford[2] argues that specialised ships are an identified niche market covering five categories of shipping through lowered operating costs that undercut other ships such as bulk carriers. It can be argued that specialisation covers a wider spread in the shipping market. Oil tankers, container ships and dry bulk carriers are also specialised ships based on the cargo they carry or the standard unit of carriage. So, specialisation has been a recurring feature of shipping development over many decades so that today the notion of break bulk cargo and the general cargo ship is no longer an important feature in the shipping market. Containerisation is one such specialisation that has radically changed seaborne transport.

The birth of the shipping container

[3]The origins of the use of containers to ship goods can be traced back to the late 18^th century in England when an enterprising man designed wooden boxes to haul coal by horses from the coal mine to canal barges for further shipment.[4] Since that time there has been many attempts both on land and at sea to use unitisation to reduce handling costs of cargo. However, it was not until 1955 when an American trucking company owner Malcom McLean built the first intermodal container as a steel box with corner twist lock fittings that standardised ship transport became a reality. He converted a 2^nd world war T2 tanker to carry containers on deck whilst also carrying oil.

From this small experiment in shipping technology exploded the birth of global containerisation.

[5]The first container ship carried 58 containers in 1956 whereas today the largest container ships carry around 20,000 TEU’s. The exploitation of the economies to be gained in scaling up the size of ships and reducing the unit cost of transporting

containers started a competition between shipping companies. It started with Maersk and the E class Emma Maersk built in 2006. The biggest ship ever built in its class with a gross tonnage of 171,000 GT, a capacity of 14000 TEU driven by a giant diesel engine producing 81MW. McKinsey in its report of the future of containers suggest the peak of container ship capacity has not been reached and 50,000 TEU ships may come in the future.

[6]The competition responded and the size of vessels increased to over 20,000 TEU. In 2021 the largest container ship in the world is the Ever Ace from Evergreen shipping of Taiwan with a capacity of 23,992 TEU. With a length of 400 metres, a beam of 62 metres and a draft of 13.4m it is a giant ship.

A consequence of this competition was a series of mergers that reduced the number of container shipping companies. Today the five largest companies control over 60 percent of the world’s container trade.[7]

The weak link

A global supply chain is only as good as its ability to function effectively. Larger container ships demanded new and larger port facilities. Large land areas adjacent to the quayside utilising fully automated handling equipment both at the quay side and in the storage area radically changed the demand for dock labour. Less manual work with fewer dockers with skills to operate container cranes and stackers became the norm. Many traditional ports and dock areas were unable to meet the criteria required for container operations. As Professor Bird noted in his book “the march to the sea” was the inevitable result of larger vessels with deeper drafts.[8]

These larger ships also demanded improved seamanship to manoeuvre such high unwieldy ships at low speed. Many port pilots needed further training to meet these new demands.

The COVID effect

Nobody could anticipate the effect of this global virus on the global supply chain, but it has left its mark.

Firstly, the outbreak of the virus in China shut much of the production in that country and reduced the demand for container ships. As the virus spread, so isolation and quarantine of individuals around the world and especially in Europe and the USA changed the pattern of consumer spending. No longer able to travel their surplus money was used on consumer products and home projects. So now there was a massive demand for materials and services that could not be fully met. A classic example was the production of computer chips that reduced manufacturing capacity for smartphones, computers, car parts and consequently delays and price rises resulted. Once production came on stream again, the supply of containers could not meet the demand and the freight rates for a container more than quadrupled[9] and container ships were fully employed. Now, the ports could not handle the massive increase in traffic and as of September 2021 there is the biggest congestion of container ships in American and European ports producing further delays in delivery.

The question now is whether all the goods will arrive as planned!

 

 

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[1] Levinson, Marc: Outside the box: How globalisation changed from moving stuff to spreading ideas:

[2] Stopford, Martin (Maritime Economics,3^rd. edition) page 470

[3] Courtesy of MobilBox UK (https://www.mobilbox.co.uk/history-shipping-container/1472)

[4] Ripley, David (1993). The little Eaton Gangway and Derby canal (2nd ed.) Oakwood Press. ISBN 0-85361-431-8

[5] McKinsey & Company: Container Shipping: The next 50 years, 2017

[6] Courtesy of the Taiwan English News August 8^th 2021

[7] McKinsey & Company: Container Shipping: The next 50 years, 2017

 

[8] Bird,J.H: Seaports and seaport terminals: 1971

[9] The Economist; September 18^th-24^th 2021: page 61