I wanted to do a sixth boro version of “A is for aardvaark, B is for …” post, but because each foto, no matter what other “A” word I called it, kept pointing toward “attachment,” I’ve have changed my mind, given in to the pressure. So this is a reflection on . . .” attachedness.” Responder demonstrates how the quintessential assist looks; I know I’m asking for trouble here, but this is a fairly “normal” ship assist attachment.
Of course, I couldn’t meditate on “A” and not encounter Alice Oldendorff; While discharging her thousands of tons of aggregates, Alice is attached to the dock, lines on bollards. The lengths of cable involved in working Alice boggle my mind too; a attaches to b, which attaches to c, etc. Further, in an invisible way, I’m attached to Alice, although less than I used to be AND less than I could be once again in the case that Alice reconsiders, and . . . (sigh).
Bel Espoir 2 attaches to Bounty, which itself attaches to Pier 66, which . . . By now, I assume both vessels have detached themselves from the sixth boro as they head up to new attachments in Boston. See you up there maybe.
Ellen McAllister nuzzles against an unlikely partner, an APL President ship; Ellen does its work without a tangible attachment. I stop short of calling this abnormal. Yup, stopped short.
The same invisible attachment exists here between Margaret Moran and her charge. And if you look at the ship’s bulbous bow, you might be as surprised as me to see the amount of algae attached there. Maybe some fleets need to invest in bowmowers.
Standard equipment on all tugs is the axe; Responder below has two. And the reason . . . obviously to effect a really quick detachment.
All fotos by Will Van Dorp.
Soon we’ll move on to “B is for bow . . . or bulb…” and so through the alphabet. Before that, I’ll probably return with A2.
If you’re new to the blog, use the the search window to get the back story on Alice Oldendorff and me . . . or not.