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October 19 . . . she’s in Kaohsiung, and a month later she’s between New York’s sixth boro and the waters of Norfolk.  Doubleclick to enlarge:  those two crew up on the bow are having quite a ride.

Hyundai Goodwill cruises the oceans at 27 mph, bringing goodwill–I hope–

one container full of mangoes at a time.

Who know what else containers contain?  Read the last two paragraphs here first.  And then the ones that don’t make it:  it would be quite hard to establish goodwill with the customer whose container with a restored 1937 Bugatti Type 57S Atalante was one that splashed somewhere in mid-Atlantica.  Or a private collection of Klimts and Van Goghs.

Q . . . quit with the serious tone for today, quirky has ushered itself in, and questions . . . I always have questions.    Oh . . . and the fifth letter in the title “c” rather than “t,” I’ve erroneously misspelled that several times  since this series began.  Right now I need the therapy of making fun of myself.

First question:  I hadn’t previously noticed the hydraulic device between the wheelhouse  and the staple (?) on Laura K.  Anyone have ideas?


As Eagle Atlanta headed into the Kills yesterday, I noticed someone on the portside bridgewing cleaning or mopping.


Never noticed someone doing that before.


I’m always looking for signage that, although it may make sense in some contexts, seems quirky.    When I saw this in Mystic the other week, I wondered who or what precipitous submarines might be dropping off . . . and where the nearest pick up point might be.  Well, not really.  But wouldn’t “Warning:  Steep dropoff” be more to the point?  Am I being too much of a wise-ass of late July here?


Ah . . . one of my favorite type of signs:  ship names.  Take your pick at World Yacht . . . ride on a princess or a temptress.  If you know me, you know which I’d choose.  And while we’re on the topic of passenger ships (for which Old Salt has coined the acronym WOWO vessels) check this comparison out here.


A new sailing ship has offered proverbial “three-hour tours” from Pier 17 along the East River.  Clipper City is the name.  Previously, they operated out of Baltimore;  they’re here now, but judging by the miniscule white-painted sign indicating that, I suspect they could leave town, slap on some new paint, and have a new port before the paint was dry.


Last foto:  a 1905 tug named Sea Lion.  I had noticed the foto on Waterlogged, a blog done by a Vancouver-based blogging friend named Tana. Let me digress from my story, though, to point you to a fascinating adventure Sea Lion was involved with 95 years ago:  the Komogata Maru incident!!!  Read it here.  Colonialism, racism, and battle on the high seas (of the harbor).

Back to Tana’s foto though:  each time I looked at the text and foto, though, I read Sea Loin.  I said it couldn’t be, looked again, read it wrong again. . . .  Oh, it’s sad what happens to has started happening to my eyes and perception, misfires between the synapses.  I have bifocals already, but although they correct quite well, more areas of vision are starting to need correction.


Which brings me back to medications, which I don’t use.  For now.  Thank the water gods and goddesses.  But as my processes start slowing down in the quagmire of aging, I’m vowing to laugh more.

I’ll gallivant off again tomorrow, . . . getting sea legs while pursuing sea loins, or hobgoblins.

Except for Tana’s, all fotos by Will Van Dorp.

O . . . oil, petrOleum, fuel, which I’m guessing is the sixth boro’s most valuable cargo; not to say sand, rock, scrap, cement lack value.   Wonder fuel of the past 150 or so years, thanks to what Edwin Drake started.  But what will power home and industry and what cargo will hold greatest value  150 years from now, or a hundred, or fifty, twenty.

Tankers move crude in, and other tankers move petroleum products both in . . . and out.  We export petroleum products –like diesel–due to relative refining capacity, but I’ve no clue where Stena Performance goes when she leaves the Kills for sea.


Adriatic Sea, southbound on the Hudson near Bear Mountain Bridge, pushes what might be petroleum or might be ethanol.

aaao2Here Taurus pushes a fuel tank.


As does Curtis Reinauer.
aaaocr Bering Sea has a loaded fuel tank on the hip.


When a tanker comes into this terminal on the KVK, they hook into hoses like these.


Here’s the whole set.  Is there a technical term for these, both individual hoses and the entire set?


Scorship King Douglas, exactly a year old, came in this morning, but it hardly seems loaded to capacity.  Why not?  Tug is Rowan M McAllister.


When Eagle Atlanta came in, she seemed deeper in the water than King Douglas, but maybe  both were to capacity.  Tug is Marjorie B McAllister.


What was uncomfortable about writing this post is all the unknowns, and I know I don’t know a lot related to oil.  Yet, my daily life could not happen without oil.  Very few people on the face of the Earth can say they are totally free of a reliance on oil.  It’s an amazing admission, given that it’s a finite resource.  Yet, I think I can safely say that most of us don’t know much about the source, international supply and refining chain, and transportation of items in their lives stemming from petroleum.  Like the gas I put in my car today, I’ve no clue where it lay in the Earth for hundreds of hundreds of thousands of years before–relatively recently–it started the journey toward the gas tank of my car.  And the oil that refining transformed into plastics and chemicals in my house, which pocket beneath the surface did that come from?  If I burned wood to run a steam engine, I might at least know which tree I cut to get this nice hot fire, but oil . . . not a hint.   And it all bothers me because I’d like to know.

Metaphorically, oil as fuel and lubricant . . . it’s potent stuff, without which, nothing good happens.

All fotos by Will Van Dorp.

Unrelated to this post, but go back to “Meditations M” . . . on masts.  Les Sonnenmark labeled almost all the units on Yankee‘s mast.  Can anyone help with the topmost one?


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August 2022