View from our cabin

So what did we think of it

So how was it overall? What’s hot and what’s not?

Good:

The accommodation was excellent. Spacious, comfortable, properly equipped, cleaned daily. Decent en-suite shower room. The food was excellent. Well cooked, well presented, imaginative menus, lots of it and wine on the table. The crew were friendly and courteous to a fault. We had virtually unlimited access to all areas of the ship unless safety issues were involved [pilot on the bridge; rough weather limiting deck access; engine room etc] and were made welcome in all areas at any time of day or night. The public areas were clean and tidy.

A leisurely paced journey, staying away from hateful airport departure lounges and a detailed view and partial understanding of the world of freighter ships.

Middling:

Constant air conditioning and no [practical] way to open a window. We were warned before purchasing our tickets that the view from our cabin may be obstructed. I believe that in anything like an efficiently run container ship, the view will always be obstructed. Certainly we had no exterior view for the majority of the voyage, and that we did have was only partial. This will of course vary from ship to ship and the state of container trade. We would have liked the DVD player in the passenger’s salon to have worked before Tahiti, as effectively there was no entertainment to supplement the books and tapestries we had brought. The ‘gym’ was hopeless. Table tennis is difficult when the boat is moving a lot, and the bicycle and rowing machine were so cranky we regarded them as useless.

Bad:

Information from the travel agents was woeful and arrived like drawing teeth. This was not restricted to the travel agent we used in Sydney although two parties on this voyage had booked through the same person at the same agency. Our French co-passengers had used an agency in Paris and felt similarly under-informed. In our case, the Sydney agency were unable to answer basic questions. For reasons of professional propriety [?] CMA CGM felt unable to answer our direct questions and suggested that our questions be routed though our travel agent. We did this, and much of the information that returned was wrong – some of it simply ignorant. The agent said email was not available to passengers; we were allowed unlimited access to email, subject to a small extra payment based on quantity of use which we felt was modest; the ship board shop is not like an ordinary shop and only opens when the captain feels like it.

Perhaps most importantly, even though we knew that as ‘self-loading cargo’ our interests came very low down on the ship’s priorities we all felt seriously under informed about the stops the ship would make. The timetable stated that we would be calling at Norfolk, Virginia between 21st and 22nd October. We berthed [able to go onshore] around 2000 and we sailed at around 0200. The dates were correct, but effectively we were unable to go onshore. The same thing happened in Manzanillo. This cut two out of eight stops that we had expected to be able to go ashore.

Sydney and Melbourne

Saturday 19th November 2005

A quiet day reading and sitting up on deck. Only a few days to go to Melbourne. Our fellow passenger Heide is getting excited about our arrival in Sydney on Monday. She’s been away from Australia for over a year visiting relatives in Germany. We are also beginning to think of the coming winter (??) summer (??) in Melbourne and around.

Utrillo cinema club watched Howard Hawke an amusing caper movie.

Sunday 20th November 2005

The last Sunday aboard for us! All passengers were invited to aperitifs with the Commandant and officers, and then to eat with them at their table. The chef, as usual put on a stunning feast. Parma ham and melon, feiulleté d’escargots, magret de canard avec sauce caramel, cheese (of course), and gateau norvégienne flambéed with Grand Marnier (baked Alaska). All washed down with liberal amounts of wine. A good lunch was had by all.

Then out on deck to sit in semi-shade and try to finish the books we are reading.

We arrived in Sydney around midnight, but none of the passengers waited up to watch as large ships now dock in Botany Bay, and do not come in past the splendour of Sydney Harbour Bridge and the Sydney Opera House. We’ll be able to get on shore quite early tomorrow.

Monday 21st November 2005

Awoke to find the ship berthed in Botany Bay. Heide was all packed up and ready to be collected from the ship to go home to Firefly. Immigration easy – though the officer was embarrassed to find that my birth place, Douglas, was in the Isle of Man and not Scotland as he had thought.

We headed off in taxis to the Convention Centre in Darling Harbour as it will make a good place to meet up to get taxis back in the evening.

The local tourist office has a wealth of useful brochures, one of which gives routes for walking tours all round the harbour. It suggests that a fit person can do the whole thing in 8 – 10 hours but with no stops for the view or meals! The route is broken down into bite size chunks, which we liked. We started at Darling harbour which has been beautifully created as a leisure area very close to the city centre. We wandered on through the Rocks area up to the wharves at Circular Quay. On the way we passed lots of little precincts with shops and cafes, including Nurse’s precinct which has a particularly interesting antique jewellery shop. I managed to avoid spending any money there this time, but I may go back!!

At Circular Quay we got a ferry over to Manly, a very popular area of Sydney with lots of lovely shops and great beaches. We had thought of taking the tour boat, but were advised [well we think] by the tourist office to take the public ferry instead. Cheaper. Managed to sit outside on the ferry, and had excellent views of the Harbour bridge and the Opera House. The main beach at Manly has fantastic surf and lots of people were in the sea. There are volley ball courts along the beach with lots of rippling muscles on display. Many people’s transport along the esplanade was by roller blades and skateboards, often at breakneck speed. There’s also a much quieter beach with safe bathing for children just at the side of the ferry terminal.

The main road (a pedestrian precinct) from the wharf across to the beach is full of shops and restaurants. We found an Internet Café and updated the blog, and also bought an Australian sim card for the mobile. The internet café had loads of small ads for campervans, many of which are only about $3500 AU, about £1500. Makes us think whether we might buy one for our time in Oz.

We had lunch at a small Thai café – too small and informal to call a restaurant The food was excellent. We had a bottle of good Australian white wine and the whole bill came to $37, about £15. Not bad for a delicious meal people-watching on a beautiful promenade overlooking the beach.

We were heartily amused by some of the unfortunate language effects caused by the name of the town; ‘Manly refuse’, ‘Manly bus’, ‘Manly cleaning services’ promote some interesting images in the mind.

We arrived back at the wharf with time to sit in the Bavarian Beer Bar before getting a ferry back to the heart of Sydney. Again, great views of the main sights, but the other way round. Kit was sitting next to an old Australian who turned out to be a bit of a character. We walked back through the main business district to meet Jeanine, Raymond and Luc (the cadet) at Darling Harbour and get taxis back to the ship.

We’re not allowed to walk around Sydney docks – unlike any others we’ve visited. We pressed the required button at the gate and waited, but the courtesy bus took a while to arrive. We went straight up for dinner, but as it was now 7.15, Aurel had thought we were not coming back and cleared our starters away! Sudden scuffles and they reappeared. The main course was excellent fresh liver in delicious gravy. All meat, vegetables and fruit and other foodstuffs used while the ship is in Australian waters have to be bought in Australia. The ship’s own supplies must be under lock and key all the time we are in Australian waters. It is an offence to take any food items into Australia, though Heide was allowed to take her jar of Vegemite (bought in New Zealand) in with her! The regulations are very strict, and officially prohibit the import of any animal products including wool used in crafts. Liz didn’t declare her tapestry! Happily we didn’t have any soil on our shoes or other animal products or open food containers.

Tuesday 22nd November 2005

Following a little joshing, the captain has agreed that the Utrillo will depart at the convenience of the passengers. This means that today we can have a leisurely breakfast and then go up to the bridge to supervise the departure. And so it proves. Departure scheduled for 0900 and we’re in the open sea by 0920. I guess the boys know how to do this and will get along just fine without our supervision. We think that we’ll leave the boat tomorrow afternoon and go to the rented apartment. Its nice to think about an environment that isn’t constantly noisy – engine ventilation, air conditioning [efficient but noisy] and stable.

I guess we’ll have to drink our farewell champagne this afternoon whilst the depleted cinema club can watch a film in French without English sub titles. Pas mal. Les Choristes – charming film. However we discover that the ship is not expected into Melbourne until 1700 tomorrow and won’t be leaving until 2200 on Thursday. This suits us very well as it means we can have two more of chef’s wonders, and can pack at leisure on Thursday morning, and catch a taxi after lunch. Much more civilised. It also means the champagne farewell to Raymond and Jeanine will take place on Wednesday evening.

Wednesday 23rd November2005

Melbourne is another great city to approach by sea. We can see miles of beaches that seem to be fairly accessible to the city. I guess most of it is not commutable, but as we’re not commuters we might well drive a little further, against the rush hour to find an empty beach. We’ll se, but it looks hopeful.

It’s a long and convoluted approach. The pilot joins us around 1300 and we make a long sweeping turn between two headlands. As we’re not really welcome on the bridge while the pilot’s aboard, we can’t see the charts. It seems we must be almost there, but then everyone sits down and starts reading papers. We steam at full speed for another hour across the bay. It must be a critical first turn to have the pilot aboard, and there was a lot of taking of reciprocal bearings. As we approach the city we start a hard turn to the right. Have we changed direction, back to Sydney? Apparently an outbound ship has not cleared the channel, and we have to delay ourselves while they exit, and a circle will do it. After a slow circle, we enter the channel. Its really very narrow, and we can understand why we had to wait until it emptied. The pilot and the captain turned the boat around and we backed into our berth.

The container handling is impressive. Lots of container ‘shepherds’ rushing about, lorries queuing to be unloaded, containers into and out of the ‘farm’. Raymond described it well as an ants nest. Everyone knows where they are going – its like a ballet.

Champagne in the passenger’s salon. Raymond brings Crème de Cassis [never Sirop which is sweeter and useful for children’s drinks] and so we have Kir Royale. Raymond and Jeanine are very modest drinkers, and so Liz and I drink the lion’s share. Consequently our language skills improve – or at least we think they do. After dinner we’re all a little tired, so no movies and early to bed.

Thursday 24th November 2005
Touchdown in Melbourne.

The container handling starts in the middle of the night as usual, but we’ve become used to it. After breakfast we use our new local phone to call the terminal bus for Raymond and Jeanine and also a taxi to meet them at the gate. We’ll be doing the same later. Liz is packing, and I’m writing this - the last entry in this section of the diary. Tips for Aurel and Chef, close the email account, leave money for a couple of bottles of wine on the officer’s lunch table. Small chores, but hopefully leaving happy folk behind us. You never know when we’ll meet again. Aurel’s giving up the sea, and is going to start a B&B in Romania. Next year maybe…….

Depart Sydney view

Melbourne busy containers

Melbourne and narrow channel

Narrow channel into Melbourne

Manly ferry

Liz approaches Melbourne 2

Sydney suburbs from Harbour

Liz and Sydney Harbour Bridge

Passengers and officers

Chef flambees

Another visitor leaving Melbourne

New Caledonia - Noumea

15th and 16th November 2005

At sea. Eating and drinking and regulating our days by meal times, times to visit the bridge and see that the boys are doing OK – that sort of thing. Looking forward to Noumea.

17th November 2005.

We are getting slightly ahead of our schedule and our now likely to take our pilot around 0500. There is talk of a strike in the port, so no-one really knows what is going to happen. We rise early – not so difficult as the clocks keep going back an hour and we tend to wake early. As dawn breaks, we take the pilot and approach New Caledonia’s port and capital of Noumea.

The first thing you can see as you get nearer is smoke from the four chimneys of the nickel plant – the country’s largest industry. The mine is the world’s largest open mine and it produces staggering amounts of raw nickel, and exports unrefined and refined nickel. The smoke and fumes blanket the town, which must cause conflicts with the country’s second largest industry of tourism..

There seems to be no evidence of strike, and the docks are full of workers waiting to unload our containers and load others. Still no-one is sure how long we’ll be in port. A little frustrating as the original schedule suggests that we will have a day and a half here. If this is to be the case, we’ll rent a car and head off somewhere, find a B&B and return the next morning. But the best we’re told is to telephone the ship at 1800 and we’ll be given an updated time of departure.

Into town, money from the machine, check emails and wonder about the shape of the day. We quickly decide that Noumea is a small and fairly charmless town. I’m sure the inhabitants like it, but I wouldn’t cross the world for it. Lots of souvenir shops and hi-fi sales rooms. The central ‘parky-bit’ is laid out for a festival. Unusually, the stalls are not trying to sell anything, but are informative – scouts, holiday villages for the under-privileged, red cross first aid etc. Much nicer than the usual sort of thing. A quick visit to the tourist office informs us that there are no interesting [to us] busses as the longer distance ones are only one a day in each direction. With a possible departure tonight, we can’t take the risk. The town’s hop on – hop off tourist bus is only FCP1000 each but we find a cheap car hire place that’s only FCP 4000 for the day, so off we go in an air conditioned Renault.

Everything is angled towards the tourists, but its not oppressive. A cool drink at a thatched beach bar and a little more aimless driving to try and get a taste of the island. We’re having a good time, but become aware – as elsewhere in France – that around 1150 the traffic speeds up with workers going home for lunch, and those who can’t make it home are sitting under trees with their sandwiches. Clearly we need to act swiftly if we are not to miss our lunch. After recent routine this is unthinkable!

The map that came with the car is – of course – sketchy. Still, Liz does a grand job and suggests a road to turn off as it looks promising. Down we go, and whilst not exactly promising, we do find a rather abandoned looking hotel. Down the dusty drive and the hotel itself also looks abandoned. A couple of the beach-side chalets have washing outside. Hotel workers or long stay guests? Wandering through the abandoned and open to the breeze reception, we are greeted by a charming young woman who asks us if we want lunch. The whole place looks so seedy we think – without discussion – that we’ll have an aperitif and then go and find somewhere else.

As we sit on the terrace, we change our minds. Old moody French songs are playing, the wind sighs gently though lots of open windows, and a glance at the menu of the day board tempts us. So, Liz orders a Pastis, but as I’m driving, I’ll wait for the wine. Our charming waitress explains that the owner is unexpectedly absent and she’s not familiar with aperitifs. Liz explains that she wants it in a glass with ice and enough room to add water. Back comes a Ricard that would fell two of us.

The food is fabulous. Warm goat’s cheese salad, followed by fish and crème brǔlee. The setting is even better. Our waitress doesn’t know how to open a bottle of wine, so my experience comes in handy! This is real tropical paradise stuff. A little faded is now very desirable as we can imagine Bogart coming though the door – or should that be Alain Delon. The hotel has stern notices that the pool is only for guests at the hotel, and we discover that having eaten there, we count as guests. Whoopee as that means we’re staying and I can have a Calvados before driving many hours later. It will have to be many hours as the size of the drink makes ship cocktails seem mean, and British pub measures wouldn’t even wet glasses that size.

So out to the pool. But first into the sea. I’ve checked, its lukewarm, so in we go. It certainly is warm, but its full of stones and after swimming around for a while in fairly shallow water, the pool seems a better option. There’s coral in the sea and both of us get badly scratched by merely brushing against the wretched stuff. It wasn’t even the pretty coral. The pool is very desirable, and chatting to another user, it seems that many people come for the winter. July in France and December in New Caledonia. I can certainly see the attraction in that.

Happily our work-everywhere phone has decided to work here, so we phone the boat and discover that departure is 1200 tomorrow. Liz goes to see if we can rent a room. Sadly, its fully booked – as are all the hotels nearby.

We could chase around and find somewhere no doubt, but we already have a comfortable room and board and unless we think we’ll find somewhere better, we might as well go back. Taking a very roundabout route to see a little more of the island. Huge green mountains, windy roads and then suddenly a small French housing estate in the middle of nowhere. These Territoires Outre Mer are sometimes very peculiar. Tropical island with French policemen. A bit like the Spanish bobbies in Gibraltar. Notices in phone booths in French, and local dialling to France on the other side of the world.

Return the car, and walk back through the exhibition again. Past the cable laying ship that’s here, and in though the dock gates for a cold supper.

18th November 2005

It’s a good job we didn’t stay away as the boat is now scheduled to leave at 1100 and we have to be back at 1000 – or earlier to be safe. Just time to go to the craft workshops oddly located at the dock gates. Sadly, despite signs promising them to be open, they’re closed. We don’t much fancy the computer exhibition, and so take a decent cup of coffee [the coffee on the boat is not to my taste] and back on board.

It’s at times like this you can see why we need a pilot. Leaving to the south west means we have to pass through the reefs. New Caledonia is in the largest lagoon in the world, we are informed by our 1st Officer, whose wife and family live here. I suppose he should know. Anyway, we have to pass though areas that look very treacherous with only tiny buoys to mark the channel.

Leaving early means that we’re likely to arrive in Sydney early which is causing one of our fellow passengers, Heide, some concern. She’s getting off in Sydney and has made pick up arrangements according to the existing schedule. It may affect us also, as we have booked our accommodation in Melbourne according to the same schedule. Well, we will or we won’t. We’ve become quite laid back about it.

The Utrillo cinema club watches Once Upon a Time in the West. I think it must have been the director’s cut as it was nearly three hours long. Very pretty, but too long for the plot, and for our bedtime.

Off to sea again.

Auckland

Monday 14th November 2005

We began to approach Auckland at about 10.30 am. The pilot came on board about 11.00 and we sailed between the many small islands in the channel leading to the city. The skyline of Auckland is very modern and is dominated by the Sky Tower, the tallest building in the Southern hemisphere (taller than the Eiffel Tower). It is 328 metres tall and is a slim and elegant design.

The port is very close to the city and we got excellent views as the tugs gently reversed us into place at our berth. Alongside by just after noon. This was timed just right to let us have lunch on board while the immigration and customs people did their thing. We told the chef we’d be eating in town this evening. We may go to the Sky Tower revolving restaurant – maybe a bit touristy but could be an experience!

As the city is so close to the port we all decided to walk in. The weather as we approached in the bay was changeable, and we wisely took our waterproofs with us. Good job too!! Almost as soon as we were outside the port gates the heavens opened, and we had an amazing shower. The walk into the centre of the city took about 15 minutes, through generally much more welcoming surroundings than many port areas. It doesn’t look as if we’ll need to get a taxi back tonight – the area looks quite safe.

We saw a large supermarket just on the edge of town. It’s open late, so we decided we’d pop in to buy a couple of things on our way back later.
We were using the Sky Tower as a guide as to which way to walk into the city, but it is very difficult to see it once you get near. We stopped for a glass of wine – New Zealand, of course – in a wine bar in Vulcan Lane. It was rather a trendy one and we were the oldest customers by many years. Discovered here that contrary to advice given to us they do not accept Australian dollars in New Zealand, so we had to nip down the road to a cash machine to get some money.
We wandered around the central area, along Queen Street, the main thoroughfare. Lots of interesting shops and restaurants. There’s a high proportion of Chinese, Korean and other Oriental residents in the city and along this area are dotted food halls with a selection of Oriental restaurants inside. Even though we’d just had lunch some of the aromas were devastating and it took a good deal of willpower to walk on by.

We took the free local bus which does a circle round the centre to help us get our bearings. We stayed on for a whole circuit and saw the beautiful gardens of the campus of The University of Auckland, many lovely houses – often reminiscent of faded gentility in UK seaside resorts such as Eastbourne, a plethora of shops including, as you’d expect all the well-known high street names, but also many I’ve never seen before. Then we walked down towards the ferry port to take a look at the famous Ice Bar, next to Lenin’s Bar. This is, as I’m sure you can imagine from the name a haven for the vodka drinkers of the city. The Ice Bar is made totally of ice, is full of ice sculptures, and the drinks are served in glasses made of ice. During the day it’s interesting, but it comes to life in the dark when the sculptures are lit by multi-coloured lights. Entrance to the bar includes the loan of a parka with furry hood and a drink from the wide selection of vodkas. As it was daylight we didn’t go in, but sat outside Lenin’s Bar for a short while in the sunshine.

Then off on a bus, $1.50 each, to Parnell, a rather swish inner suburb of the city. It has a long main street stretching up the hill, and is full of interesting galleries, lots of restaurants, including several Indian ones with delicious-sounding menus, plus some very expensive shops. Luckily most of the things I fancied buying (a dining table, a small chandelier etc) were too large to get up the gangplank of the ship so I didn’t buy!! We were in Parnell towards the end of the business day and many of the shops were closing. Also the weather turned nasty again and we had to shelter from the rain. So we got another bus back into the centre. Having looked at a map later, we could probably have walked back.

We decided to go and look at the Sky Tower, and maybe even eat there. The tower is approached from the main street of the city. The cost to go up is $18 per person and as this is included in a meal taken in the revolving restaurant we decided to splash out. The whole meal including a bottle of New Zealand sparkling wine was $139 (about £55) including entrance to the observation decks (cheaper than a similar experience in the UK), and the food was delicious. The views were stunning. We were able to see our ship in the distance. Also we got fabulous views of the Auckland Bridge and the surrounding countryside. During our meal there was the most tremendous rain storm with black skies and rain lashing on the windows of the restaurant.
The Sky Tower is 328 metres tall and you go up in a glass lift at breakneck speed – 40 seconds from floor level to the top. There is a glass panel in the floor of the lift so you can look down the lift shaft – scary! The restaurant 190 metres up the tower, revolves about one full circle each hour. You can see two strong wires running down to the ground from the top of the tower. These are the guide ropes for the bungee jump of 192 metres. Jumpers plummet for about 16 seconds at about 75kph. Above the observation decks the foolhardy can take a guided walk even higher up the tower – the Vertigo Climb which takes you up to 270 metres – needless to say we didn’t do this. From the observation deck, on a clear day, you can see 82 kilometres (51 miles), and can spot about 50 volcanoes in the surrounding area. The tower is built to withstand winds of 200 kph – expected about once every 1000 years! If such a wind were to happen the tower would sway about half a metre in each direction – almost imperceptible.

The Sky Tower from the Utrillo

We watched the darkness fall, and lights making a beautiful vista from the restaurant. Then a walk back to the ship via the supermarket where we picked up a couple of bottles of New Zealand wine to enjoy before our next stop in Noumea in a few days time. The loading was still going on as we arrived back at 10.30pm and carried on for much of the night. We left Auckland in fine sunny weather at about 6am the next day.

Tahiti to Auckland

Wednesday 9th November 2005
Chef plays a blinder

At sea again for a few days. We expect to arrive in New Zealand on the 14th November (Monday). However, before then we pass the international date line and we think we miss either Friday or Saturday. Heaven forbid that we should miss Sunday as this is the day that the chef uses to demonstrate his most extravagant culinary surprises – and I would especially miss the pains au chocolat!

A fairly calm morning. A short foray round the deck, but legs rather tired after yesterday, so the first highlight of the day was lunch. Chef had prepared delicious cabbage salads, followed by chicken cooked beautifully with vegetables and potatoes oven baked and dusted in Parmesan cheese. The fruit today was straight from Tahiti – lychees fresh from the market – delicious. The afternoon saw the sea getting a bit rougher, but it was pleasant out on deck and we sat and read until shortly before dinner. We were also able to sit in the passenger lounge listening to music. The cadet had managed to buy a DVD player and we can now listen to our CDs and watch a film in the evening if we can manage to stay up that late!

Dinner had also been sourced from Tahiti and was stupendous. The main course was Maka – a fish we think was probably swordfish – cooked to perfection with a delicious shallot sauce with lots of garlic. We had the usual cheese, of course. But the meal was rounded off with fresh pineapple, bought in the market in Papeete. It was a far cry from the pineapple you can buy in Tesco in Oxford. The Papeete pineapple was juicy and completely sweet with no harsh edges. I managed to eat two portions, and Kit, who is not a fruit-eater managed half a portion.

Thursday 10th November 2005
Chef plays another blinder

The sea was rather rough this morning, though generally a bow to stern movement rather than port to starboard – this is less effective at tipping you out of bed, but does wake you up quite early!

The morning was spent in the lounge reading, translating the French text of the Equator baptism speech so that the young officer can use it if he has non-French speaking passengers, and for me, doing a big chunk of my tapestry. I need to finish it before Melbourne as the Australian immigration information reminds me that I cannot import woollen thread even if for craft use. It makes no such rule about bringing a completed tapestry into the country.

The food is still being influenced by the visit to Tahiti. Lunch started with fresh tuna ‘cooked’ in lime and lemon juice (but basically still raw – not to my taste) which was a wow with almost all diners Aurel noticed that it wasn’t to my taste, and so it was swiftly cleared away and a simple starter of ham, tomatoes and some macedoine was substituted before anyone else had finished their starter. The main course was quail stuffed with forcemeat on a crouton. Not only that! - we also got a small globe artichoke stuffed with creamy sauce and petits pois, glazed carrots, and duchesse potatoes! The cheese followed ‘comme d’habitude’, and chef had made a selection of delicious fruit tartelettes for dessert. We suspect that he may have been a patissier in a past life. Aurel our steward has even remembered that I don’t eat kiwi fruit, and my portion arrives dressed without it. I think a little lie-down is needed to let all of this settle before going out to read on deck. We are all agreed that the trimmings are not absolutely first class – the plates are a little worthy, but I suppose they break a lot of them. Its plate service, and we don’t have a bevy of flunkies tiddling around us. But – my goodness - we do have absolutely first rate food – 5 star, and wine on the table. Stunning.

By 2pm the sea was very rough – a storm is expected, so I need to put things in the cabin away, and take extra care when putting in my contact lenses not to poke my eye out! However, the sun is out, the temperature is wonderful, there is no humidity so, as long as the deck chairs don’t slide about too much, a sit out on deck to read for a while!

Friday 11th November

Another quiet day at sea. Normal routine. Update the diary in the morning, followed by a little light reading. An aperitif shortly before lunch at 1200. Coffee in the lounge, and either a little snooze in the lounge or settle in a deck chair and watch the ocean. Chef’s really hitting his stride. The quantities are not so enormous, and the presentation is getting better and better. A flying fish flew onto the deck and died before anyone stumbled across it. Interesting to see, and we’re told that they’re very tasty, but clearly only enough for one, so Aurel had it for breakfast.

Saturday 12th November 2005

Amusingly, this doesn’t exist as we passed the international date line overnight. Shades of Phineas Fogg - or is that a character in the Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers?

Sunday 13th November 2005.

A few turns round the deck under the containers. The pool is empty as the sea water is too cold. We’re all really pleased that Sunday didn’t disappear as chef puts on a special effort on Sundays. Croissant and Danish pastries for breakfast, lunch is a five courser, starting with prawns and fresh mayonnaise, followed the fish course of turbot with red pepper sauce, followed by beef Wellington, followed by cheese, and pastries and fruit. Stagger upstairs to the lounge again. It’s a good job there are some stairs or our already tightening clothes would not fit at all if there were no exercise. Our newly replaced DVD allows another meeting of the passenger’s film club. Last night we enjoyed Hitchcock’s “To Catch a Thief” but tonight was an inferior gangster movie. Better luck next time, but we are restricted by needing a movie that has either French language and English sub titles or the other way round. All the movies we brought with us are in English with no sub titles at all, so its whatever is in the ship’ library, which is – shall we say – a little male mechanic oriented.

Tahiti was hot

Monday 7th November 2005

Normal sort of stuff really. We pop up to the bridge now and again to make sure the boys are doing their jobs. Happily we can check up on some of the running repairs being made without even leaving our deck chairs. Today’s major consideration was that we may be passing between two of the beautiful Pacific islands during lunch! Fortunately a crisis was avoided as we didn’t pass them until after lunch. [Was this arranged by the officers so that their lunch was not disturbed? They did after all turn the ship so the barbecue could be lit.] Its real paradise island stuff. Long white beaches, blue seas, lagoons and a few very expensive looking resort type hotels. The weather is really hot, but whilst we are under way we don’t notice. We do however have to be very careful about standing around in the sun. It really doesn’t feel hot, but the sun is directly overhead and very fierce.

Tuesday 8th November 2005

As advertised, today is Tahiti. We are due to take our pilot on board at 0530 and be alongside at 0700. Happily the actual times are a little later, but as the clocks go back an hour every couple of days we often wake at 0500 anyway. Time enough to get up and apply super strength sun protection gunk, and let it dry whilst we drink a cup of tea. Tahiti rises out of the mist with heavy rain clouds hanging over it. Our pilot joins, exuding confidence [unlike Mr Machismo Panama] and steers us into a very small harbour. No huge gantries here – our on board cranes will have to do the job with some help later on from a large mobile dockside crane. Instead of handling one box every two minutes, the actuality seems to be one every ten minutes. This is why we have time to spend in Papeete. Its an ill wind.

The local customs and immigration are on board at 0700 and so we will be able to go ashore as soon as they have dealt with the huge pile of passports in front of them. Happily we now have the opportunity to rectify an anomaly. The fearsome United States immigration service that requires us all to attend for interview at US embassies and supply fingerprint and iris recognition data [plus significant costs for the paperwork] and further interviews at port of entry, failed to turn up when the Utrillo left Savannah. Well I suppose it was a Sunday evening. Terrorists take note that US Immigration can’t be bothered at week ends. Anyway the upshot of this is that we have all be immigrated into the US but have no exit stamps. As far as the US is concerned we are still there! We didn’t go ashore in Manzanillo and so Tahiti is our first landfall. Hanging around outside the captain’s office produces the opportunity to ask the immigration officer for entry stamps. They weren’t going to bother this being a French boat, and assumed it was for souvenirs. They were amused when I told them that it would enable us to prove that we were in Tahiti according to the boats schedule. I still expect that we will have a great deal of trouble with the US immigration authorities as we try to prove we have not overstayed our ‘welcome’

We have been advised to take a taxi into Papeete as it will be very hot. All the passengers leave at slightly different times, and we left around 0800. We thought we’d walk. We can see the town, and it doesn’t look all that far, and its early in the morning – and so we set off. Walking through container movement is always a little harrowing, and we have to slink out of the dock gates as the immigration officer put entry and exit stamps in at the same time to save every one further angst – unless we were asked for our papers that is. Still, it’s a very laid back place. By the time we’ve gone 1km we’re very hot and wondering why we thought walking was such a good idea. Container ports are always at the end of large gloomy industrial estates and are distinctly thin on pavements and well endowed with huge container lorries coming and going. No-one goes there without their own transport – except us. In the past when we’ve changed our mind about this sort of thing we’ve just called up a cab, but our super work-in-all-countries phone doesn’t work here. We’re pausing by a roadside stall, but until we get into town we haven’t any local money. At this point a local woman stops her jeep and we gratefully accept an air conditioned ride into the centre of the town. Her husband is a gardener at the town hall, and so that’s where she drops us. Pretty place and we are amused to discover that Papeetian formal work gear is a short sleeve shirt, shorts and flip-flops. Sometimes not even the flip-flops.

We have been warned that Tahiti is now only a tourist island. And so it seems. The shops are of three main types – amazing electronic stores selling enormous sound systems and ‘boom blasters’, Tahitian shirts and dresses [but none in Kit’s size and too heavy fabric for Liz] and black pearl jewellery shops. None of which interests us much. The central market is in two distinct halves. One part sells oils, lotions and carvings to the tourists and the other sells fantastic food. We really yearned for an apartment with a kitchen, but what are we going to do with a slice of the freshest tuna we have ever seen, or a pint of coconut milk. I’ve never seen a parrot fish before and whilst ‘the locals were friendly’ I didn’t like to photograph their stalls without buying anything.

Cash machines solve our local currency problem. What a convenience. Goodbye travellers cheques. As we’re wondering what do to, we chance upon a local bus stop. The busses are old Mercedes pick-ups and have a distinctly shaky body bolted on the back. Almost windowless and cool. One promises a trip past the airport and the university of Polynesia to the Carrefour. A chance to replenish camomile tea stocks! What a great ride. Rolling about all over the place, past houses that back onto the ocean with no walls – it clearly doesn’t ever get cold here. The locals get on an off trampling over all and everyone as they do so. Each ‘bus’ is I think owned by its driver and as soon as one bus leaves, the next draws up to the stop and after its had a few minutes waiting there, the next in line starts hooting for his place at the stop.

It is however boiling. Still, we can indulge our favourite pastime of ‘local watching’ in the café inside the Carrefour. Very peculiar as its just the same as being in a French provincial supermarket, except for the parakeets that are flying about and the appearance of the locals. Old French people who have retired there [after civil service postings and liked it? Needing the heat?] younger French wives[?] whilst their husbands are working at running telephone companies or television stations and Tahitians looking much more comfortable in the heat in bright clothes.

Rickety bus back into Papeete. Great ride. It drops us by the internet café, and so a good deal of time is spent there, checking email, updating the blog, arranging accommodation in Melbourne, cold beers in a cool breeze. Liz checks out the shops while Kit computes. It’s a pleasant spot, and we can see the Utrillo being loaded across the bay. Not us sweating in the sun. At last, a light lunch. Two salads – one a salade niçoise that was – of course – made with stunningly fresh tuna. The best either of us have ever tasted.

Walking around the town we bump into several crew members – all sweating buckets like us. Except chef, who we can only assume is used to sweatshops. Interestingly we saw repeatedly a young American couple who were with us on the bus and got off at the airport. Liz must have seen them back in town at least three times after their airport descent. The girl looks distinctly miserable. I hope they’re not relying on standby flights that are not materialising.

Finally around 1700 we give into the heat, take a taxi back to the boat, air conditioning and cool wine in our room fridge. Chef has already apologised for there only being a cold supper, but again we’re relieved. Liz is exhausted and retires early while Kit and Raymond spend time on the bridge ensuring that the dockers don’t mess up the loading. Another different way of doing things. The locals ride around on the roof of the boxes, swing them into place almost losing toes as the boxes drop with a crash; fork lift trucks rush about with two containers perched, empty boxes are lifted aboard two at a time with only four wires holding them both. Still no-one died whilst we were watching, so maybe they know what they’re doing.

We stayed on the bridge to check the work of the captain and pilot, but as they didn’t bump the boat into anything, after a while we enjoyed the cooler evening as we left the town lights behind. We’re glad we came, but I don’t think we’ll be visiting again – at least not when its as hot as this. Gaugin might have loved it, but we just sweated with the other tourists.
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Panama to Tahiti [well almost]

Our bedroom




Sunday 30th October 2005
We joined the navy to see the sea…

Sunday, as usual, starts with pains au chocolat and pains au raisins. Delicious!
It’s a bit odd thin king that we’ll not hit land again for eight days at least. I imagined that time might hang heavily when we were at sea, but it isn’t the case. The mornings are very easily spent doing the diary, looking at the Internet news which arrives from the ship’s office (rather biased towards France, but covering most major world stories) and having a walk round the deck, and sometimes a dip in the pool.

Today the commandant came into the lounge to ask us to aperitifs before lunch in the officers’ mess. Nice to be asked, and also a chance to find out what is going on, and when we’ll get to different places. A few comments about the rather misty incident in Lake Gatun from younger officers. The senior team are all very pleasant and welcome us into their mess. We speak a mixture of French and English. As a few of them speak immaculate English I think they’re humouring us some of the time when we speak French. However, with the mix of language we all understand each other.

I talked to the second officer and second engineer about their view of life on the sea. They were bemoaning the fact that there are too few officers on each ship now. It is apparently difficult to attract young men to careers on the high seas, despite the generous amounts of leave between voyages. Although on the surface it looks like a career where you get to see the world, in fact the port stops are often very short, frequently less than 12 hours, and there’s little time to see the places visited. They also commented on the lack of continuity of crews, often from Eastern European countries, who tend to work for a few years to set themselves up with a house and maybe a business, and then they leave the sea and are replaced by new people on a regular basis.

Sunday lunch is rather special, and lunch consisted of wonderful large prawns fried in butter and garlic, followed by loin of pork, beautifully cooked and as well as the usual cheese and fruit, delicious choux pastry buns a bit like éclairs, but without the chocolate.

The afternoon is easily spent sitting on deckchairs reading and gazing at the ocean as we glide by. Followed, of course, by another delicious meal in the evening. During the afternoon we saw a small boat out in the ocean, probably ten miles away from us. We were able to watch the boat using our binoculars for about twenty minutes. However, we were clearly travelling much faster and it became a speck in the distance and kept disappearing behind waves. It made us realise how vulnerable one would be in the event of a disaster to be floating around in a lifeboat, even a bright orange one – or even worse alone in a survival suit. The ocean is immense. It’s difficult to comprehend the scale.

The evenings are spent reading. The passenger DVD player is broken, and the part cannot be got until we arrive in Papeete on 8th November at the earliest. This hasn’t really bothered us, but it would be nice to be able to have music on in the passenger lounge.

Monday 31st October 2005
And what did we see, we saw the sea.

Today it rained for much of the day, and gradually got windier out on deck, so not much time spent outside. However, the ship’s library revealed a couple of good reads, so a pleasant time.

Tuesday 1st November 2005
We saw the Atlantic and the Pacific…

Today is All Saints Day. It is also the day we are due to cross the equator. We think that this will be at about 12.30, just in the middle of our lunch. I’ve read many stories of horrendous things done to passengers and crew members who’ve never crossed the equator by sea before. I await our fate with interest………………………………….. Nothing happened!
Spent much of the day reading and walking round the deck.
In the evening we sat with Raymond, Jeanine and Heide, and drank a bottle of champagne to celebrate the crossing. Another calm and quiet night.

Wednesday 2nd November 2005
And the Pacific was really terrific

Bumped into the chief engineer at breakfast and he arranged for us to visit the engine rooms on Friday afternoon. He also said that there was to be some sort of celebration tomorrow, Thursday to mark the crossing of the Equator – whether this is just for the crew or not we’ll no doubt discover.
I sent lots of emails today. Some to check on possible sources of accommodation for the first two weeks of our stay in Melbourne. The weather was lovely and we spent much of the afternoon sitting outside on the deck reading.
Clocks back an hour again tonight!

Thursday 3rd November 2005
We joined the navy to see the sea…

Slightly choppier again this morning. However, a lovely bright day to lounge about on deck! Today we’re due to have a barbecue in the evening, preceded by the ‘baptême’ of the five passengers and two crew for crossing the equator by ship for the first time.
We were collected by the ‘police’ from our lounge just before 5pm and handcuffed and taken to the front deck of the boat, where we were awaited by an amazing tableau of Neptune, his wife Amphrite, the navigator, the grand inquisitor, the bishop and the barber [all crew members gamely dressed up] the real captain and most of the crew who weren’t actually driving the boat.


The supplicants were addressed sternly by the grand inquisitor and we were all required to seek the forgiveness of Neptune for daring to be on the high seas, and in particular to cross the equator without his permission. We were all ‘forced’ to kneel and various penalties were discussed. Men and women received different penalties. The men were ‘shaved’ which involved having a disgusting pink mousse spread over our faces and then removed with a spatula. All neophytes were then offered the ‘penalty’ of drinking a disgusting drink. The drink was made by the chef, so we knew it wasn’t actually poisonous, but the two your French sailors made the most terrible faces. Either they were hamming it up for the crowds, or they were not used to the spices that were in it. It tasted sort of OK to us – rather like a non-alcoholic Bloody Mary.
Neptune and Amphrite then asked the navigator to check our position. Again, hammed up royally with a pair of wine bottle binoculars, then an enormous faux-sextant and then finally for laughs a portable GPS device. It was confirmed that we had passed the equator and that we could be baptised. We all trouped off to the compact swimming pool where, happily, the passengers were treated slightly better than the crew neophytes. They were thrown in the pool, fully dressed, and we were gently baptised with the bishop’s crook. We all received our certificates, which we need to keep safely against the next time we cross the equator by boat.
In the evening, supper started early with drinks for everyone on the ‘forward beach’ whilst an enormous barbecue [two half oil drums] was prepared. The wind was in the wrong direction to light the things properly, and so after 30 minutes of trying the second officer got on the walkie-talkie to the bridge and turned the ship so that the wind was more suitable. We should all have such a facility for our barbecues.

It was chef’s night off. He had prepared all the food, but we had to take our own portion and cook it to our liking. There was as ever, a mountain of food, but we were able to take and cook only what we wanted. The whole crew mixed well. The Romanians prefer to speak English, and the French are all capable of it, so we did very well for conversation also.

Weather overnight difficult for sleeping as the boat is doing long slow rolls which threaten to tip you out of your bunk. We have devised various ways of wedging ourselves in, and all in all, its quite soothing when properly wedged. It’s a little difficult with things like cups of tea. The roll starts slowly, and its not until half way through that you realise its continuing and that you need to rush for your cup or glass. Still its keeps you on your toes – sometimes literally.

Friday 4th November 2005
And guess what we saw….. we saw the sea.

There’s actually nothing to do – all chores are taken care of, there’s nowhere to go and so we have developed our own timetables. Kit goes up to the bridge mid-morning after breakfast to check that the guys are still doing it right. Currently the chart spread out on the chart table is absolutely blank, with the exception of the course line plotted across it. No islands, no land of any sort. The radar display is set at 40 miles and is absolutely blank. A few waves show when you look at the 5 mile radar. It makes you think when walking about the ship. If no-one noticed you fall off, that would be it. I somehow like to think that if the cross channel ferry sank it would be possible to swim. After all, I am a good swimmer and people do swim the channel and anyway you’d be starting from halfway across. But none of that applies here. Even if someone saw you fall, it takes so long to stop the ship I doubt whether anyone would spot you. I’ve been keeping a nervous eye on where the life belts are as I guess that ‘homme a la mer’s only chance would be to have a life belt or raft with a light and radar reflector for when the boat eventually gets back to you.

High spot of the day is a trip round the engine room. This has been laid on for us by the chief engineer who is also our guide. We are collected from our salon, issued with ear defenders and descend into the bowels of the ship. The engine room is familiarly known as ‘the cathedral’. You can see why as soon as you enter. The entry walkways are five stories up from the base. The engine is HUGE, very noisy and very hot. We’re not working there and spend all our time standing under forced air vents. The tour starts at the control room. Not my idea of a pleasant working environment – completely windowless with green consoles and computer screens. Less noise however and the ear defenders are not required. The chief engineer is proud of his domain but speaks very fast in language that he thinks is simple but is mostly incomprehensible to us. Happily Raymond is also interested and so the information is given to him, and the rest of us wander round as directed just being impressed with the scale of things. Seven cylinders, each of which can be isolated from the rest and worked on while the engine is running. Enormous horsepower, fuel consumption and all the rest. Generally its HUGE and turns the single propeller with enough oomph to spin us along at a little over 20 knots [approx. 38kph] 24 hours a day. That’s getting on for 1000km per day. Now that’s impressive.

Lots of BIG machinery, exhaust manifolds, and fans. BIG spanners and so forth. We can see that the boat makes all its own fresh water, electricity, hydraulics for the rudder and everything else. It’s the heart of the ship. We were all very impressed, but none fancied the engine room as a career. Many of those working there don’t fancy it much either, but CMA-CGM insist that all their senior officers are capable of being chief engineer or captain, and so you have to qualify in both.

From New York to Panama

A fairly quiet night before we arrive at New York some time tomorrow morning.

Thursday 20th October 2005

A calm day for our arrival in New York. We spent the morning doing a jig-saw, reading etc. Our arrival in New York was timed at about noon and we began to see land by about 10am. Arrival at New York by ship is spectacular. The container port we were headed for is in Brooklyn and meant that we approached under the Verrazano Bridge, past the Statue of Liberty on our left, with splendid views of the New York skyline.

The sea was very calm and the weather warm and sunny.

As we neared the port we were joined by the pilot, who arrives on board via a ladder. He takes over the directions of the ship until the arrival in the port itself.

Then the two tugs take over. The power to the engines is lowered right down and eventually shut off and the tiny tugs gently manoeuvre the ship into its place at the wharf. We were amazed at how careful the lining up by the wharf was. We didn’t feel any bump at all as we arrived alongside.

All of the manoeuvring was completed by noon,

and we then had to wait for US immigration authorities to check us all before we could go ashore. This was timed beautifully as we had time to have lunch on board.

We left the ship and walked to the edge of the dock, where we asked the official checking us out to call a taxi. New York is a big place and we had to decide which bit to visit. We chose Chinatown, which was a thirty dollar ride away. We managed to find a post office to get stamps and send cards home, and also an Internet café to send emails. However, the Internet café didn’t have the luxury of a USB port for us to send documents, so only short urgent messages got sent.

We all split up and agreed to meet at 7pm to get a taxi back to the ship for dinner. Kit and I had a good walk around Chinatown and a bit of Little Italy which is just next door. We bought some olives in a wonderful Italian deli, and had a superb coffee in Ferrara’s café just on the edge of Little Italy. In Chinatown we were amazed by the fresh fish stalls, with live crabs, lobsters and even prawns. On one stall there was a large bucket full of large frogs – also alive. The streets were also full of shops selling all manner of teas and dried vegetables. What was much more difficult was what seemed like a simple task of finding a birthday card for our fellow-traveller, Heide, whose birthday it is in a couple of days. Eventually we found one, but not really to our taste.

We all met up at about 6.30, but had forgotten we’d be meeting at rush hour. However, we were in the right place to get a cab going in the right direction. Sadly there were hardly any cabs about, and other people seemed to be waving more effectively than we were. Eventually one stopped, and after a bit of bargaining he agreed to take us – a bit of a problem having five people – especially as the ship’s wharf was in Brooklyn where he lived, and he was just about ready to finish his shift. Her hadn’t ever been to the container port, though, and it took a bit of finding! We got back to the boat fine after a walk across the port dodging the lorries etc.

We decided to take a couple of photographs of the Utrillo as we had an excellent view as we approached, but we were swiftly apprehended by a guard who admonished us and told us what we were doing was forbidden. However, HE WAS TOO LATE!! We’d already taken the pictures.

Back on board for a calm night, and again a very good dinner.

Friday 21st October 2005

We should have been arriving at about lunchtime in Norfolk, Virginia today, but the delays during the bad weather and a later than expected departure from New York meant that most of the day was spent at sea. It was really quite calm, and briefly sunny. I walked round the lower deck a few times for the exercise, and used the advantage of the calm sea to use the rowing machine and exercise bike. They are both very difficult to use when the sea is rough.
Much of the day was spent reading, doing tapestry – now almost half finished, and, of course, eating. The portions are still too large most of the time. We all hate to throw away good food, so we are all consuming far too much – our clothes will soon not fit.

By the end of the afternoon the weather was very dull and we began our approach to Norfolk by about 4.30pm. The approach to the port is through a very long channel across Chesapeake Bay. The area is criss-crossed with bridges and tunnels so people can commute to work. The Chesapeake Bridge is rather beautiful. It appears to be a wooden construction and stretches for miles. I’ll check distances etc when I get longer Internet access. The bridge crosses the main entrance to the bays, and in order for large ships and submarines to be able to get into the port it is split in the middle and the road goes through a tunnel deep under the river.
Norfolk itself is the third largest container port in the USA. It is also the home to a large military base. We approached in the twilight and then dark, but we were able to see a wide range of warships, aircraft carriers and a few submarines as we passed. We were joined by our river pilot and his trainee at the entrance to the river. The pilot told us about the intensive training for the job. The trainee who was working with him had completed all his skipper qualifications for large vessels, and was coming to the end of a six-year practical and theoretical training to receive his licence to act as a pilot. Much of the training is specific to a particular port or state of the USA. If he wants to move to another area he’ll have to do additional training to gain an extra licence. It’s fascinating to watch the interaction between the pilot, the ship’s commandant, the officers and the seamen who are at the controls. There is a set form of language, based mainly in English which is followed to ensure that messages are clearly understood and acted upon. Everything is checked and double-checked. Each number is repeated by all concerned to ensure there is no misunderstanding.

The berth allocated to the Utrillo required us to turn in the channel. Whilst the channel is wide, the ship is also very wide. All shipping needs to stop whilst a large vessel makes a turn. Tugs joined us to help the manoeuvre. The engines are slowed right down, and a tug is attached at each side of the ship. One tug pulled, the other pushed and the ship slid gently round as if by magic. We then reversed into our mooring. Again we were alongside without a single feeling of bumping into the dock wall. The skill and accuracy of the people involved are amazing. By the time we were tied up alongside it was after 7pm. All of our group of passengers decided that we wouldn’t go ashore for dinner as it was Friday evening and would be very busy. Also, dinner in the USA is taken quite early, and by the time we found a restaurant it might be too late to order! Far safer to take dinner on the ship. The departure from Norfolk was scheduled for 1am and we decided we wouldn’t stay up to watch the exercise. Next stop Savannah!!

Saturday 22nd October 2005

Heide’s birthday. We gave Heide a card, and we took champagne down to drink at lunch, but sadly she doesn’t drink champagne! Never mind, we’ll drink it some other time.
Today was spent at sea all day. Some sunshine, but mainly dull and some rain. I got a little bit sunburnt despite putting some high factor sun cream on. It’s easy to be lulled into a false sense of security when the wind is chilly – we need to be careful! We sat out for about one hour, but gave up not because of the cool air – that was nice – but because it was difficult in such a strong wind to keep the book open at the right page.

On a day at sea, we are free to do whatever we want, but the ship’s life carries on. The engines need to be attended to. There are constant discussions on the bridge (la passerelle) about sea conditions, depth, winds etc. Our steward uses days at sea to ensure all the bed linen, towels and suchlike are washed and ready for replacement. He’s an amazing character. His wife and children are in Romania, and he spends three months on board before a break of three months. When on board he works seven days a week starting at breakfast time looking after cabins. He also serves meals for the five passengers and the officers in the officers’ dining room. He manages to serve neatly even when there is a very heavy sea.

Because we left Norfolk earlier than planned it’s likely that we’ll arrive in Savannah tomorrow morning by 8 or 9 instead of lunchtime, so we’ll get a whole day there. Much talk about hurricane Wilma that is battering Cuba at the moment. It looks as though we might get embroiled in it in a couple of days. We’ll look at the BBC website when we get to Savannah to see what it foretells!

Sunday 24th October 2005

We arrived in Savannah early in the morning before breakfast time. The entrance to the Wilmington River is spectacular, and the Utrillo made sedate progress along the several miles to the container port. The river is flanked on one side by Georgia and on the other side by South Carolina. I felt as if we could touch either given a bit of a stretch.

We were met outside the entrance to the river by the river pilot, and also by our tug pilot, who would guide us safely to our moorings. The river pilot was a young man of about 30, and was telling us that he was the seventh generation of his family to be pilots on the Wilmington River. He clearly knows a great deal about the river, but he said he learned something new about it every day. His father’s advice to him was that the day he stopped learning was the day to give up being a pilot. The river is quite narrow but clearly deep. We passed several other large ships on our approach. Some ships were shielded by small tugs holding them in to the shore as we passed.

The river takes you along past the centre of Savannah itself, and though most of the population were still asleep as we passed, we saw the lovely riverside area, the city hall clock all lit up, the conference centre and many lovely old buildings. There were also a number of very extravagant private yachts moored near to the big hotels, and also more of them being attended to in the dry docks just outside the container port.

We saw several containerships moored quite close to the centre of the city, but our moorings were some way outside the city. We could see the large container cranes in the distance, and as we approached them we were joined by two tugs who accompanied us to the mooring. Again they gently nudged the ship into place, and we were tied up without noticing a single bump!
Time for a swift breakfast before getting a taxi to the city for a day out. A big day for our fellow passenger Heide who was meeting her sister-in-law, niece and family. The last time Heide saw her niece she was 12 years old and now she’s forty and has a two-year old son. The taxi driver was able to come right to the ship, which was good as we were some distance from the dock gates. In some places we are allowed to walk to the gates, but not in Savannah. The city is calm and quiet. As we were visiting on a Sunday we were concerned that everything might be shut, but in fact almost everything was open. There is a very lively riverside walk area, which got livelier later in the day with musicians performing along the way. Lots of shops – sadly a lot of the stuff for sale was tourist stuff, but, as we found in New York, the welcome from the locals was enthusiastic. I’m not really sure, however, how to respond when the twentieth person asks me ‘ Well, how are YOU today?’

We walked for miles through the streets of Savannah, old by US standards, but not by British ones. We were able to use the Internet at a café in the centre of the commercial district. We then set out to find somewhere to get a bite of lunch. There were lots of places on the riverfront, but we wanted to find somewhere a bit less commercialised. We asked a chap with a bicycle where he would eat, and he recommended Clary’s (we found out later it called itself world-famous) where we had corned beef hash and grits – very traditional in the south, and a seafood omelette. We’d both wondered what grits were – they’re rather like semolina pudding but served with butter rather than sugar. I don’t think we’ll have them again! The atmosphere in the café was very comfortable and we ate outside watching the world go by.

The city council in Savannah is keen to get people to use public transport and there is a shuttle bus, which takes almost the same route as the tourist buses. The tourist buses charge $25 a head, the shuttle is free, but you don’t get the commentary. You can guess which we chose. We passed many large elegant villas, many decorated with pumpkins as Halloween approaches. It’s certainly a very gracious city.

When we were in the Internet café we checked on the progress of Hurricane Wilma and found that it is very likely that we will have to cross its path at some time in our voyage. It was the main news item on the UK BBC News Home Page.

Taxi back to the boat and then dinner.

Kit and I spent the evening on the bridge until just before midnight watching the departure from Savannah and spotting the places we had visited during the day. This was a really lovely day out!

Monday 25th October 2005

By the middle of the night it was clear that the sea was becoming more blustery. In the morning when we were up on the bridge we were advised not to go onto the outside decks, especially the round-the-boat bottom deck. I was not even slightly tempted to do so! It was very rough and windy. However, we slowed down to 5 knots, a quarter of the usual speed of the vessel for all of the day to ensure we didn’t meet the hurricane head-on. During the night we were due to cross the path of Hurricane Wilma and indeed we did so, but with minimal disruption to passengers, crew and the working of the ship. Monday night was very rough and neither Kit nor I slept very well, but neither did we feel at risk. The Commandant and crew clearly take a very careful and conservative approach to working with storms. We were very glad about this.

During much of the day on Monday it was very difficult to walk around on the ship, and none of us felt much like going outside anyway.

We were glad to send back emails to family at home to let them know we’d passed the hurricane safely.

Food on board.
We have long been amused by the French way of lunch. Over many years holidaying in France we have noted the increase in road traffic at 1145 and the complete absence of traffic at 1215 as all good French workers go home for a three [or more] course lunch. After we had spent a winter in France we had become accustomed to this ritual, but until we joined the Utrillo, we had not realised how ingrained ‘dejeuner’ was into the fabric of French life. With a little care we can read the runes of how the boat is operating; who is on shift; any matters that merit attention and so forth. Breakfast is an unremarkable self-service affair. Perfectly adequate and recognisable anywhere in the world. Coffee, tea, toast, yoghurt fruit etc. The two main meals of the day however are a different matter.

Passengers on a freight ship occupy a curious half world. Not crew by any means, but not officers either. We are regarded as ‘self loading cargo’ by the company, quasi-officers by the ratings and a necessary evil by the officers. We share the officers mess and have starched linen table cloths, house wine on the table and waiter service.

[TIP If you find yourself doing one of these, bring a stick of ordinary teacher’s blackboard chalk with you. As the boat moves around, it is impossible to pour red wine to several people without spilling a drip or so. The tablecloths are changed weekly, and by the end of a few days it looks like a slaughterhouse. Gravy, vinaigrette and a host of other foodstuffs display the menus preceding. Chalk will conceal the worst of these blunders]

However we are expected to arrive at meal times 30 minutes before the officers. A typical menu might be sea food salad as the first course, followed by sole meuniere with ‘pommes gratinee’ and a salad, and always followed by cheese, and a pudding or fruit. We arrive to find our starters on the plate. We are expected to have finished our starters by the time the officers arrive for their lunch. Meanwhile, they [having put on formal shirts not expected of us] have been having drinks in the officers bar close by. This is not to suggest that the ship is particularly formal in any respect other then the respect that the average Frenchman will show for his lunch. Our starters are cleared as the officers enter the mess. To a man they greet us with good wishes to enjoy our meal as they settle to theirs. Our main courses are served whilst the officers eat their starters and so forth. One side effect of this staggered eating arrangement is that the cheese board [always a selection of at least seven] leaves the fridge so that the cheese is served at the correct temperature for the officers – a little on the cold side for the passengers. Fussy or what!
As holidaymakers, we take longer over our meals than the officers, and we notice the slight tension as their meal finishes. All the junior officers make sure to have finished their fruit before the Captain who will suddenly push his chair back. All rise and repair to the adjoining room where coffee is served. [Ours is served upstairs in the passengers lounge]. Wine is on the officers table as it is on ours, but those on duty take only a half glass with their cheese, and those going off duty take a glass with each course.

The chef regularly produces meals worthy of a decent hotel whilst the kitchen is rolling about. Regular crashes are heard as tin trays fly from surfaces. It seems miraculous to me, but I suppose it’s a necessary skill for a sea-going chef.

The menu card is produced daily by the cadet [Luc – see below] who delights in amusing us with pictures on the menu. We were discussing what sort of fish was on the menu until we noticed the illustration from Tintin – the old sea dog, Captain Haddock! As we approached Hurricane Wilma, the central illustration was the meteorological chart showing the position of the boat and the tropical storm. We could tell the crew were taking the storm seriously because of their behaviour at meals. Naturally we were warned not to go outside the main command and accommodation block of the boat, but when we saw the water bottles on the dining tables had been laid on their sides with cork wedges to stop them rolling, we knew it was serious. Similarly when the first officer is missing when we are in port we know that the loading is taking longer than expected. When things are really serious however, all officers appear at the table to show that nothing is giving cause for concern.

And that’s only lunch. The same procedure occurs daily at supper time. The passengers have become institutionalised and operate our lives around when the next meal is. This comes naturally to the French, and we have slipped into the routine of discussing what is for supper before we have even finished lunch. All this is fine if you are a hard working sailor. If you are an indolent passenger the quantities become oppressive. We have tried asking for reduced portions, but our requests are ignored. As all the passengers have been ‘nicely brought up’ we try to finish the food that has been put on our plates. With four or more large courses, this has become impossible and so we leave large portions on our plates to be cleared away. It goes straight into the bin! Its not as if the food is in any way inedible, rather the reverse. There’s just so much of it. I guess the standard portion is large and we’ll just have to deal with it.
Well, its thirty minutes before the next meal, and so time for the passengers to gather in the passenger lounge for a pastis before the meal.

[TIP Ensure that your will power is fully primed and operational. There is no logistical excuse for refusing food or drink. If you finish the wine on the table, more is brought. If you finish the food, more is brought. If you don’t like the small-ish breakfast, speak to the chef and a full cooked breakfast will be served to you every morning until you stop it or have a coronary. The ships store opens when we are in international waters. Calvados is 4 euros a bottle! Fine wine from Burgundy and Beaujolais is between 4 and 10 euros a bottle. Toothpaste is more expensive, so clean your teeth in whisky!]

Tuesday 26th October 2005

Sea still rough today, but calmed a lot by the evening. A quiet night.

Wednesday 27th October 2005

Today was a very calm day. Though we passed Cuba during a spectacular thunderstorm. The afternoon was very pleasant and we sat outside on one of the decks getting a bit of sun. We filled in the next set of customs forms for Manzanillo where we expect to arrive tomorrow some time. The weather is definitely becoming Caribbean with hot sunshine and very humid air. The colour of the sea is beginning to change and become more blue.
The cadet officer told us that the pool would be filled this afternoon, and indeed it was ready for use by 5.30pm. It is filled with sea water. The temperature of the water today was 31 degrees – not bad!! The pool is very small – about 4 metres by 3 metres and is about 4 feet deep all the way across. There is a rope attached to both corners at one end with hand-holds to use for exercises. I had a bit of a swim. It’s a bit alarming that the pool is clearly on the way from the engine room to somewhere else, so there was a constant parade of crew members greeting me as I swam.

The night was also calm and we both slept well. Indeed, we almost missed breakfast.

Thursday 27th October 2005

Woke to a very grey sky, but the temperature is still high – in the thirties today. We had several heavy outbursts of rain and then warm sunny spells – traditional Caribbean weather. At last Kit and I finished the jigsaw we started over a week ago. We were convinced until the last couple of pieces that it was incomplete, but it is on the table in the passenger lounge in all its glory!
We expect to arrive in Manzanillo tonight at about 8pm. By the time we’ve tied up it will probably be 10pm, so we won’t go ashore tonight. We hope that we’ll get the day to explore but the latest word is that we’ll be setting off again first thing in the morning. If this happens it will be disappointing as we will then have missed two of the shore points to visit. It is good being at sea, and despite my fears before the voyage started the days actually fly by. We don’t actually HAVE to do anything, but there are visits to the bridge to check on progress, walks around the deck, visits to the library and gym, and also energetic bouts of sunbathing. By the time evening comes we are usually quite tired. We’ve only watched a DVD once. The DVD player is also now broken (not our fault!), so we don’t have that as an option. Maybe someone will buy one if we spend a day in Manzanillo?? Nevertheless, one reason for doing a voyage like this is to see some interesting places. For Raymond and Jeanine, our fellow passengers this is ‘the trip of a lifetime’ that they’ve saved up for. They’re going all the way round the world having started as we did at Le Havre, and they will return to Le Havre in January 2006.

The loading and unloading took until about 6am and we were off by 7. So, we missed the chance for a day in Manzanillo. It’s probably because it costs a lot of money to be in dock, and its free to put down the anchor in the sea. We discovered that we will be going through the Panama Canal tomorrow – time yet to be agreed – so we’ll be at anchor just outside Manzanillo all day.
Different countries’ dockside working practices.

As a layman, I find it interesting to watch how containers are loaded and unloaded. I’m impressed by the size of the machinery which hoists 40 ton 40 feet long boxes around as if they are featherweights, and yet place them with great accuracy – mostly. Yet there are marked differences between methods used in France, the USA and Panama. Every port offers us two huge cranes of very similar style.

In Le Havre, two little container ‘shepherds’ service each huge crane. They rush off to the container park where they can straddle a pile of containers up to three high. They pick one, self-load it, bring it to the space under the huge crane, and place it accurately so that the large crane driver doesn’t have to move his crane to collect the container – only the hoist. The large crane then picks the box, swings it up and places it - moving in and out along his jib. He returns and the second ‘shepherd’ has placed another box on the quayside, and so it goes. I have no idea how many times each box is handled before it reaches the container farm, but for the loading, two men and machines serve one large crane.

US dockside practices seem to have full employment rather than speed as their watchword. Each container is brought under the large crane by an articulated lorry and trailer. This lorry is loaded in the container farm by a huge fork lift-type truck, and when it arrives under the crane, a man [who appears to have no other job] raises his hand as the lorry approaches and lets it fall when the lorry is correctly placed under the crane. There is a constant queue of lorries under the crane, so I guess that 10 lorries service each large crane, plus of course the ‘positioning’ man and the crew in the container farm. There are several other men hanging around whose purpose I can’t work out.

We were late leaving Savannah. There was some problem with the last two containers which required them to be removed and replaced a few times. Groups of men studied them. As we weren’t going anywhere, the pilot and I were chatting on the bridge. I asked what the problem was with the container. He looked at his watch and said that it probably needed another ten minutes work, as that would take the whole crew into overtime! Magically, the problem seemed to be solved at 2201!

The system in Manzanillo is much like the US system, but has more people hanging around whose role I couldn’t work out. Still, the Spanish style of working has lots of folk hanging around, and the labour is doubtless cheaper also.

Friday 28th October 2005

It was, indeed, a very pleasant day. We sat out on deck and read our books. The sun was very strong, and the temperature was well up into the thirties. It was very pleasant outside when we found a slightly breezy spot to sit in the shade. We also had a look at the charts and discovered that Manzanillo’s man reason for existence is as a gateway to the canal, and used to be called Colon. I can’t imagine why they changed the name. The harbour mouth has two entrances, one small and one large. Using the large one leads directly into the Gatun straight.

The pool was filled and we were able to swim. I also did some rowing and cycling in the gym. This is undoubtedly much easier when the ship is not moving!!

At dinner the officers were called to the bridge as we needed to change our position in the ‘parking’. To bed at about 9.30.

Saturday 29th October 2005

The Panama Canal
We were originally under the impression that we would be beginning the transit of the canal around 0700 – 0800, but we were woken at 0445 by a phone call from the Captain telling us that we were approaching the Gatun locks. We dressed as quickly as we could and made it up to the bridge within five minutes. We nearly tripped over the lock pilot’s box of tricks, which is a laptop complete with its own satnav, wifi, radio and goodness knows what else. It rivals the box of tricks our boys use to drive the boat. I expect the pilots can’t always rely on the level or accuracy of the equipment that ships may turn up with.

The locks are an amazing feat of construction, opening in 1913 and rising over 50 metres in a triple ‘staircase’. Approaching in the dark all you can see is a narrow strip of water that seems too small for large ships to pass each other, with a wall of lights and lock gates ahead. We are steered into the right hand set of locks and up we go. There are little engines that run alongside us at every lock. They are not large enough to tow us, and so can only be to keep our bow and stern lines taut so that we don’t bump into the sides. The Utrillo is not quite a ‘Panamax’ [the largest vessel that can pass through the canal and built to the specifications of the locks, as were the US warships USS New Jersey and her class] but we have only half a metre spare on each side of us and two metres spare on the length. Later today a Panamax vessel that really fill the locks will be passing through. It seems impossible it will fit as we are so snug, and it is bigger!
The Gatun lock pilot is a skinny American who tells us he has retired twice, but they keep bringing him back. He lives here and loves it. We wonder about the running of key sections of the canal after the Americans left on December 31st 1999. The mechanics all seem to work OK, but our lake pilot seems very young [like the surgeons and policemen!] and does not radiate the confidence of the other pilots we have encountered so far. More later about this.

The Panamanians must be very pleased to have the canal under their jurisdiction as during its first four years under Panamanian control the canal contributed $870 million dollars to the economy. During the 85 years the United States ran the canal, Panama received only double that figure in total. In 2003, the canal earned Panama $666 million dollars in fees for the transit of 11,725 ships. An average of $56,000 per ship, but I suppose it saves weeks of travel and fuel round the Cape. It must be cost effective or no-one would do it. These figures were all supplied in an information leaflet issued by the Canal Authority the ACP.

It takes about two and a half hours to pass though the locks and we emerge into Gatun lake. We have to wait here for a few hours and so we anchor up with other boats that are heading our way. This is very satisfactory as it gives us a chance to have breakfast without missing anything. Around 1100 we are under way again.

We had been told that an unusual tropical storm was due to hit Panama, but that we should not be affected. It all depends on how you judge affected. The sky blackened and we could see the rain clouds approaching us fast. We came down hastily from the compass deck [the very top above the bridge] as not only was the rain very heavy, but included lightning. It’s a great view from the compass deck, but as all the boat’s aerials, satellite stuff, radar etc is up there, I don’t want to be near it during lightning. We just got down in time as the torrential rain started. Real tropical rainforest stuff, and suddenly we could see nothing as we were in the thick of the clouds. We were only worried about the rain, but it seems our young pilot was not sufficiently worried about the lack of visibility. We became aware of a real commotion on the bridge. The captain was shouting, all the officers were in a group by the wheel and the pilot was alone at the side of the wheelhouse. Outside the bridge we could see repeaters that show the rudder setting and engine speed. Most unusually, the speed was put to Full Astern [from Slow Ahead] and the rudder was reversed. Out of the mist appeared a lane buoy – the wrong side – and we were passing it at an angle, not letting it pass alongside. One of the islands loomed up out of the mist dead ahead. At this point we could also see a small Panamanian police launch alongside the other side of the Utrillo with its blue light flashing. It seems our cocky young pilot had nearly run us into an island because he couldn’t see, despite all the electronic gubbins, and wouldn’t slow down. I don’t like to think of what might have happened if the captain had not been alert, or the police launch had not turned up.

For the rest of the transit, the young pilot remained on the bridge, but the body language we could see though the windows demonstrated clearly that no-one was taking any further notice of him – despite his calling of directions. His machismo was seriously dented – to the extent that he looked severely embarrassed. Does this get reported as a serious incident? Our officers referred to it later as ‘un quartier chaud’ which we might translate as getting into hot water. The pilot might claim that nothing actually happened, which I suppose is true, but had it not been for emergency action by our captain the consequences might have been severe – not to say inconvenient for the Panamanian authorities.

The rain clears as suddenly as it had started. Gatun lake is my idea of a tropical rainforest. Gently steaming lush vegetation with wonderful little beaches. Sometimes these are inhabited by crocodiles, and doubtless other animals that detract from descriptions of paradise. It looks great however as we slowly glide by.

The Gaillard cut is another man made wonder of the world. Joining Gatun lake with the locks that descend to the Pacific ocean, the Gaillard cut is 13.7 kilometres long and not less than 92 metres wide. It sounds a lot, but we are 30 metres wide, and have to leave room for anyone coming the other way……. The canal authorities are widening this stretch to allow the simultaneous passage of two Panamax vessels. Clearly accurate placing of the vessel is critical, and as the canal bends and turns, hillsides full of markers appear that need to be lined up correctly. Modern electronics help as the lights on the markers change colour according to the steering correction needed. Who needs pilots anyway.

Three sets of locks allow for our descent. The first, Pedro Miguel looks just like the locks on the Oxford canal, but bigger and with tugs. The Miraflores locks are another ‘staircase’ of two locks. We were waving at the webcam there in case any of our friends were looking. Leaving the last Miraflores lock as darkness fell, we saw the pilot slink away on his launch, then the linesmen who passed our ropes onto the little engines on theirs. Status I suppose that he gets his own launch, but maybe he’s going to give the benefits of his dubious advice to another lucky vessel. The canal is after all a 24 hour service. Later we passed under the Bridge of the Americas which links the South American continent to Central and North America. The Pan-American highway. Amazing thought, even though it looks like the Tyne Bridge writ large. Down the straight shipping lane, and into the Pacific. The captain and officers are all so late for dinner that the passengers have left the table before they arrived. I imagine that after such a long and hard day they have left a rating in charge on the bridge and are having a couple of very stiff ones in the ward room. I expect ratings to be in charge for much of the next few days. The autopilot has been set to steer 250 degrees and we keep at it for another eight days until we arrive in Tahiti.

Eight days at sea.