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The sixth boro is a huge workplace, made up of many smaller workplaces, each with many specialities; all
in a wide open place, without which the megalopolis could not
function. So few
provide for the many.
So few choreograph
basic needs for
so many.
Tugs shown include from top: Gramma Lee T Moran, Miriam Moran, Sarah Ann, and Jill Reinauer.
Can anyone identify the tug below? Glen Cove? Next two fotos were sent by Richard Guthrie, taken in New Baltimore, upriver.
Closer-up by Richard shows an enormous piece of tubing headed south on the Hudson earlier this week. Check out some of the projects on the Megrant site here.
Many thanks to Jed for the top two fotos here. Fotos 3–7 by Will Van Dorp.
V . . . void is my head. Well not entirely. Vent . . . French for “wind” which was as abundant as rain today. And I came up with Radio Veronica, the iconic 1960’s pirate radio station in the North Sea. And V. and Vineland, novels written by one of my favorite writers, Thomas Pynchon, who has another book out soon called Inherent Vice . . . another V. Pynchon, the reclusive writer, was born in Glen Cove,
New York. The vessel here (1975) also carried the names Philadelphia and Capt. Danny once.
But on this foggy then stormy day, I’ll go with “vacation.” Even if I tried hard today, a desire for vacation would slow me . But . . . I took all these fotos today. I’d never seen Great Lakes Thames River before. Thames (1980) is ex-Lorrie S.
Margaret Moran pushes past Miriam Moran, who had just assisted Marinoula into a foggy berth.
Laura K, also part of the Marinoula assist, retrieves the docking pilot.
Turecamo Boys feigns pursuit of the small boom boat.
Michele Jeanne swings by, possibly to verify some dredging? and
appears–only appears–to make herself vulnerable in the process, as Baltic Sea slings in a barge,
drops it, and then hurries off to other business.
Vacation . . . we all need it. I have vacated some things/thoughts/goals/pursuits this summer, but others have possessed me. Maybe I don’t want to vacate them and therefore will accept a degree of possession. And these preoccupations will serve as my security blanket, despite the cost.
All fotos by Will Van Dorp, to–foggy–day.
Click on an image to enlarge it.
Unrelated: See a new blog on my blogroll: the Newtown Pentacle; Newtown, as in the Creek. Also, another swimming post from Capt JP on swimming with urchins. Oh, the stories I could tell about my close encounters with fire coral in the Red Sea. Leave it to Frogma (I added this late the other day) to tell a pleasant tale about the swimming with parrotfish and their friends.
All fotos but the one directly below were taken yesterday, but what you see below is what John J. Harvey, ex-Engine 57, Engine 86, and Marine 2, does: in its prime, it pumped up to 18,000 gallons per minute. And now, the vessel and crew get invited from near and far to pump these prodigious amounts of water; I’ll call it the wet equivalent of fireworks . . . waterworks!!
Yesterday, thanks the the Harvey crew and Bernie & friends, I traveled Harvey the 6.5 hours to Poughkeepsie, queen of the Hudson.
Seven a.m. sharp departure was delayed by sizeable traffic in the middle of the channel (just forward of Bel Espoir 2) , but
other traffic–Comet southbound and Patapsco north–kept to the Jersey side.
At the Passenger Terminal, Taurus and Caribbean Sea stand by with a bunker barge for the sizeable traffic, shown earlier, delivering a morning load of travellers.
Lucy Reinauer waits at anchor with RTC 83, as Patapsco trails us, pushing fuel northbound.
Local traffic moves south with any serviceable conveyance.
Off the Palisades across from the Yonkers sugar mill, Falcon waits. Note that two Falcons at least inhabit the sixth boro, one is K-Sea and the other is green. Anyone know who operates this Falcon and Socrates and where the sugar comes from?
Just north of Tappan Zee we encounter Glen Cove, pushing stone.
Patrolman Walburger Launch No. 5 greets us in that same stretch of the river.
Harvey purrs and rides very steady in minor river chop, here passing Newburgh.
Poughkeepsie is almost in view.
The captain explains the difference between the larger and smaller diameter wheels (the smaller serves as a switch to trigger the larger).
Deck crew demonstrate their impressive line toss skill.
With only a short break before Harvey is called to perform, some crew (Carl, Huntley [captain], and Lucy) kicks back.
I wished I could have stayed but . .
before the water fest began, many of us took the train back to Grand Central.
Waterworks, fireworks, or just plain working, Happy Independence Day. John Adams, one of the luminaries of this day 233 years ago, suggests the following celebratory events: “pomp and parade, with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, and illuminations, from one end of this continent to the other, from this time forward forever more.” Harvey, a bell boat, brings pomp, show, water guns aka monitors, puts out bonfires, and entertains during illuminations. I think Adams would come aboard with enthusiasm.
As you recall in enjoyment your 4 July BBQs, consider Henry Hudson’s grub of a then-insignificant-date, 4 July 1607, Gregorian calendar, bacalao, hard tack, and genever after watch.
All fotos here by Will Van Dorp.
As a farm kid, I used ladders on silos, grain bins, and haymows. Painting barns and picking fruit could not happen without them. We expect them on fire engines and contractor trucks. Only recently did I notice their ubiquity on tugboats and around the waterfront.
On Turecamo Boys, lashing holds a wooden ladder to the rail.
Look closely for the ladder lashed in same location on Janice Ann Reinauer.
Taurus‘ ladder is lashed to the rail.
Pushtug Glen Cove has one. They serve as cheap and flexible means of access onto barges and anywhere else.
Most Erie Canal locks have ladders visible only in an empty lock chamber.
Hard hat divers take a ladder to their workspace maintain pilings,
an aluminum stairway to the bottom of the harbor.
Photos, Will Van Dorp.
Perspective makes all the difference. Robert Frost concluded that was the result when he took the less traveled road? When I’m on the sixth boro, I know a little about those sharing deckspace, but a lot less about folks on other vessels no matter how loud their radio communication. Particularly on work boats, I barely see people, as they’re at work or off duty and asleep in a bunk. But when I catch a glimmer, my wonderment excites my imagination. Of course, I imagine all fiction…
Glen Cove has just dropped off a sand barge, and on this really hot day, the crewman in the forward engine room door might be catching some breeze, but next to the power plant!? He might be contemplating some feverish plans or wondering how to say something difficult to she who must be informed…
After retrieving some nasty debris with Hayward‘s crane, this crewman might be chatting on a blackberry or reading Pynchon …
Furtive plotting under the lifeboat frame or telling tales of homeport loves long ago and faraway…
Checking on the refueling operation or pondering the feasability of diving for the diamond ring that just slipped out of the fingers of this nervous newlywed as he and bride set out for honeymoon on QM2…
Client representatives signing off on a docking idea or watching a rehearsal for Absinthe at the Spiegeltent…
Photos, Will Van Dorp.
This trawler was hauled out by the ubiquitous Marine Travel Lift, this one in southwestern Staten Island.
Here’s a closeup of the housing around the prop.
Some sense of scale is offered by the crane here.
But check this link for the most fantastic marine crane on earth. It could lift the entire fishing fleet at once.
All photos by Will Van Dorp.
Tugs moves barges of fuel, dredged rock, garbage, recycling paper, cranes, bulkhead construction materials, and more. What do you suppose is in the boxes on this barge that is marked with red flags and moving north on the Hudson?
Or what’s in the boxes on the barge attached to the small tug Mame Faye? Why are workmen pulling plastic over these boxes? Can you see the raindrops on the water? By the way, this picture was taken near the confluence of the Hudson and Mohawk north of Albany last September at the Tug Roundup.
The rain stopped, the sun went down, horns and whistles on more than two dozen tugs blasted into the night, plastic wrap was removed by someone with a flashlight, the first box opened, and then there was an explosion and light,
and more delightful light as the show went on for what seemed hours; any lull was responded to by more horns and whistles. A stranger stopping at a local gas station while passing through would have wondered about the racket in the tiny town of Waterford, might have made life-altering vows.
Fireworks reflected on the water: this reminds me of the excitement of unwrapping gifts, of the lights in the eyes of children as they open boxes and presents. Such marvels arrive in boxes delivered on ships and barges. How about a whole new mythology about how boxes get delivered all over the world tonight? Cheers.
All photos by Will Van Dorp.
Here’s another light tug steaming southward in front of Weehawken.
The dark red superstructure and large white “M” make this unmistakeably a Moran tug. Moran began in the port of New York, and 150 years later is still a major presence.
The tug above is said to be towing “on the hip.” The hip here might be the widest or beamiest part of the tug. A barge towed on the hip can be moved with far greater control than one towed on the hawser. Notice on the tug above the raised pilothouse that allows the helmsman to see over the barge.
Moving a barge–or multiple barges–on the nose is probably the most in the harbor.
Looking for giftbook suggestions? Check out Geo Matteson’s Tugboats of New York written by a former tug owner.
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