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 BARGING IN WHERE THE INTERNET IS CONSIDERED TO BE THE
ANTI-CHRIST...
Cornishman 'Anaconda' Frank Curnow returned to Trinidad, West
Indies from a tug delivery, just in time for Christmas 1999. He'd met some
interesting people...here, we quote him verbatim:
"The 'Walter R' is a harbour tug, less than 70 feet
long, built in Norfolk, Virginia. Her age is unknown but she must be at least 20 by the looks of her. How she got to Trinidad,
I don't know. The problem here was that she's a single screw, a goodly Detroit
Diesel, but Trinidadian laws do not permit the use of a single engine in working
boats, they have to have two engines.
She was in a terrible state when she was acquired by an American businessman who buys and sells tugs and barges in the Caribbean.
Under the watchful eye of the vendor's colleague, Cherokee Jim Estraka, (yes,
he really is one, it's not a nickname!) the refit went well and we left Trinidad last month on
the 2000-mile delivery trip to her new home beyond St. Lucy's Lock in St. Lucy County in Florida.
On board was a delivery skipper, in his late 50's, down from St. Lucy County to fetch the Walter R,
he was a really nice guy and never needed to raise his voice once, he
just had a way about him.
Cherokee Jim went as First Mate, I ('Anaconda' Frank Curnow) went as Engineer and a
young Trinidadian chap by the name of Rick went as deckhand.
The tug had only done about 90 miles of the journey when the bilge pump became blocked by the particles which the re-fit crew had missed during the clean-up.
I suppose they must have been up at the tops of the bilge sides and the
movement had disturbed them. A strainer was fitted, once the pump had been unblocked, without any need to stop at Grenada, which island
we were passing when it occurred.
As we passed Roseau, Dominica, the high pressure hoses to the transmission blew apart, probably due to perishing of the rubber component of the pipes which had not been apparent during the pre-voyage inspection. The tropical climate tends to deteriorate rubbers faster than cold climes.
Unfortunately, the skipper had hung all his newly-washed laundry down in
the engine room to dry and the whole lot got absolutely plastered in
oil. There must be something wrong with me, I though it was funny and
couldn't hide my mirth. Luckily the skipper's a very forgiving kind of
guy.
I was very impressed when Cherokee Jim managed to find enough bits and pieces on board to 'jury rig' some pipe-work to get
us to St. Thomas, where a fellow by the name of Hector made some new high pressure hoses and
an electrical engineer by the name of Tony Wardle worked on the tug's generator which wasn't holding her load (charging).
While we were there, the main engine was also fitted with manual rheostat, because the automatic control had been burned out. Spares like belts were acquired and the parts used in the
jury rig returned to the spares locker. The strainer in the bilge pump having been cleaned several times, bilge and strainer remained
clean, I'm glad to say. It's always a hazard after a major re-fit, bits
appear seemingly out of nowhere.
The captain decided, as there were heavy seas, to pass Puerto Rico on the south side, there
had been a small crafts warning but we found calm seas all the way.
When we put our nose into the Mona Passage, we encountered very heavy seas and
the skipper decided to turn back to a small port in Puerto Rico.
There I met a man who knew my brother and mistook me for him! He took care of all
our little needs, I treated myself to two new pairs of rubber-soled
canvas shoes with laces, for less than the cost of one pair in most
places!
The next day we set off for Fort Lauderdale. We headed out into more rough weather and had to alter course into
Salmonar in the Dominican Republic.
Jim took us in, reading the radar for lack of visibility. It was a pitch dark
and rain-soaked night.
I have to admit that I can think of nothing to recommend the place. We were there for a day and if
we'd been sheep we would have left the place well shorn. Everybody wanted to fleece
us. We were glad to get out of there. We motored up through the Bahamas, cleared in and out in Eleuthera,
and then followed the skid-marks on the sea-bed, made by other boats scraping through Current
Cut. We just made it at high tide, squeezing our seven foot draft through the area which only has six feet of water at low tide, holding
our breath, metaphorically speaking, for the fifty or sixty miles from Governor's Island to the deep waters beyond the
Cut.
With approximately one hundred and fifty miles left to go, we had better luck on the crossing of the Gulf Stream,
which is usually notorious for bad weather. Conditions were fine and calm and it was an uneventful crossing.
All oil leaks, bilge problems and other bits and pieces had been fixed in passage and she was singing like a baby.
We cleared Customs and Immigration at Fort Lauderdale and were out of there within a day.
To use an American expression, I found the place 'gross'. It's all
artificial. A smile would cost you in that place!
We arrived, at night, at the entrance to the Intra-Coastal waterway and stopped off in a lovely marina,
the name of which, I'm sorry to say I don't recall, to do our laundry and get a meal.
We left before sun-up to head up the Waterway.
It took only one day to reach the delivery point in St. Lucy's County.
Jim insisted that any traces of rust or grime must be gone by the time
we arrived.
The engine room had to be as clean as the bridge. This was done. She was delivered A1.
On arrival, we found that the spotlight didn't work and nor did the deck light.
Even such minor things were also taken care of by Jim, a man who prides himself on a job well done.
He has a right to be proud.
All in all, it had taken us eighteen days to get there. We waited, aboard the Walter R, for
a couple of days for our plane tickets back to Trinidad.
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