by captrmetz » February 2, 2018, 12:56 pm
Relief Captain
In the mid and late 1990s, P&H Shipping Company had two ships in service, Oakglen and Mapleglen. I was relief master for the two ships. I enjoyed the role of relief captain, since I missed fitout as well as most of the late fall storms the frequented the lakes. I usually missed out on the layup of the ships, too. I just sailed the warm summer months while the other two captains took their holidays.
The men who crewed these ships were all professional sailors with many years sailing on the same ship. One such professional was wheelsman Kenny Budgel, who was wheeling on the Oakglen for one of my 35-day sailing periods.
The company called me at home in Florida, and I was to report aboard Oakglen the next day. I spent a day flying and sitting around in airport lobbies. Then I had a four-hour drive to Owen Sound to join the ship.
When I arrived, I was already beat, but stayed up until we were unloaded, and then departed for Thunder Bay. Thinking that I would catch up on some sleep while underway, I went to bed. But I could not fall asleep until we departed the Soo Locks.
I had fallen into a really sound sleep and did not notice that the ship was starting to take on a lazy roll, which increased as the hours passed. Third Mate George Parsons, woke me up. “Cap, I think we should alter course,” he said.
When I came fully awake, she was rolling pretty well. In fact, I couldn’t believe what I saw. All my furniture and books were strewn around the room. I had a difficult time just walking to the wheelhouse stairs.
When I finally got to the foot of the stairs, I yelled up to Kenny, “Hard to port and come around to 240 degrees.”
Kenny, being the pro that he is, repeated my order and brought her around to have the sea on our stern. The ship rode a lot better that way.
The wheelhouse was also a mess. Charts and chairs were lying all over the place. I couldn’t believe that the rolling had not woken me up.
That night at dinner, I received a mean glare from our Chief Cook, Glenna. “Cap, you never rolled a ship like this for so long before.”
What could I say? That I was sleeping? Glenna had me nailed, and she knew it!
Pat Snook and Mike Koeber, two wheelsmen, were others of the professionals who did all of their own steering and made most of the walls by themselves. In the mornings while underway, one of their jobs was to mop the wheelhouse deck. I would guess when they should be all finished mopping, then I would walk up to the bridge for my morning coffee. My guess was always correct - the deck was still wet when I came charging in. Neither Pat nor Mike ever said a word. But I often wondered what they were thinking.
Our mates were the best on the Great Lakes. I trusted every mate while he was on the bridge. I knew that if something was going wrong, I would get called immediately. Our second and third mates were certainly all professional - Jimmy Mann, Bill Parker, Norm McKay, and George Parsons. All of them knew their jobs to the letter, as did George Power, a man of many years sailing on lakers and fish tugs. Every time I entered the wheelhouse, fresh coffee was always at had. Edward Agar, wheelsman on the Mapleglen, always had a fresh pot of tea brewing, and would say, “Cap, the pot is hot.”
- Attachments
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- The Might Oak. Underway.
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- Oakglen Wheelhouse
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- Oakglen loading at Owen Sound.
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- Oakglen at the Locks
Relief Captain
In the mid and late 1990s, P&H Shipping Company had two ships in service, Oakglen and Mapleglen. I was relief master for the two ships. I enjoyed the role of relief captain, since I missed fitout as well as most of the late fall storms the frequented the lakes. I usually missed out on the layup of the ships, too. I just sailed the warm summer months while the other two captains took their holidays.
The men who crewed these ships were all professional sailors with many years sailing on the same ship. One such professional was wheelsman Kenny Budgel, who was wheeling on the Oakglen for one of my 35-day sailing periods.
The company called me at home in Florida, and I was to report aboard Oakglen the next day. I spent a day flying and sitting around in airport lobbies. Then I had a four-hour drive to Owen Sound to join the ship.
When I arrived, I was already beat, but stayed up until we were unloaded, and then departed for Thunder Bay. Thinking that I would catch up on some sleep while underway, I went to bed. But I could not fall asleep until we departed the Soo Locks.
I had fallen into a really sound sleep and did not notice that the ship was starting to take on a lazy roll, which increased as the hours passed. Third Mate George Parsons, woke me up. “Cap, I think we should alter course,” he said.
When I came fully awake, she was rolling pretty well. In fact, I couldn’t believe what I saw. All my furniture and books were strewn around the room. I had a difficult time just walking to the wheelhouse stairs.
When I finally got to the foot of the stairs, I yelled up to Kenny, “Hard to port and come around to 240 degrees.”
Kenny, being the pro that he is, repeated my order and brought her around to have the sea on our stern. The ship rode a lot better that way.
The wheelhouse was also a mess. Charts and chairs were lying all over the place. I couldn’t believe that the rolling had not woken me up.
That night at dinner, I received a mean glare from our Chief Cook, Glenna. “Cap, you never rolled a ship like this for so long before.”
What could I say? That I was sleeping? Glenna had me nailed, and she knew it!
Pat Snook and Mike Koeber, two wheelsmen, were others of the professionals who did all of their own steering and made most of the walls by themselves. In the mornings while underway, one of their jobs was to mop the wheelhouse deck. I would guess when they should be all finished mopping, then I would walk up to the bridge for my morning coffee. My guess was always correct - the deck was still wet when I came charging in. Neither Pat nor Mike ever said a word. But I often wondered what they were thinking.
Our mates were the best on the Great Lakes. I trusted every mate while he was on the bridge. I knew that if something was going wrong, I would get called immediately. Our second and third mates were certainly all professional - Jimmy Mann, Bill Parker, Norm McKay, and George Parsons. All of them knew their jobs to the letter, as did George Power, a man of many years sailing on lakers and fish tugs. Every time I entered the wheelhouse, fresh coffee was always at had. Edward Agar, wheelsman on the Mapleglen, always had a fresh pot of tea brewing, and would say, “Cap, the pot is hot.”