By Michael Grey*
As a story in May in the general press, it all seemed a bit of a laugh. The deep-sleeping Norwegian in his pretty cabin on the Trondheim Fjord, oblivious to a “huge” ship running ashore a few feet from his bedroom. He required an urgent call from his neighbour to alert him to the fact that the 886-TEU feeder containership NCL Salten had come to call and was probably going to stay for a while. It produced some excellent photographs to brighten up the weekend. Nobody was hurt and there was no pollution.
You might suggest it was almost a “good news” story. Except that it really is not funny, as this sort of accident is happening far too often and while this one resulted in a lot of bent steel and the second mate being arrested by the police and confessed to nodding off at a crucial navigational juncture, others have far worse consequences.
You have to wonder, how many hurrying feeder ships in the frantic European distribution network there are, being driven, in dawn’s early light, with a tired officer of the watch fighting off sleep. Each, impressed by the need to maintain the schedule, but some just unable to remain alert, saved by the fact that at the crucial moment, there was no traffic, shoal or an alter-course position coming up.
We had a horrible reminder of this a couple of months ago off the mouth of the Humber with the Solong crashing into the anchored Stena Immaculate to wreck both and kill one of the containership’s seafarers.
But you do not have to probe the records for long to find plenty of other groundings and collisions where a lone watchkeeper, exhausted, distracted or asleep, has failed to keep the ship safe. There has been no shortage of clever ideas to keep watchkeepers awake and alert; from movement alarms to marine versions of the “dead-man’s handle,” but people annoyed or bored by the inhumanity of a device that treats a sentient human like a battery chicken, just turn them off. And there is no getting away from the fact that the odds are stacked against tired people preventing their minds wandering, or just surrendering to the circumstances.
A warm wheelhouse, all sealed against the outside environment to protect the fragile electronics against the sea air. The comforting hum of the machinery, the hypnotic scan of the radars, the thrum of the diesel and the rocking of the sea. Good grief; if you are a person who suffers from sleeplessness, this is the perfect recipe for sending you off. And above all, the design of the modern bridge, where the brief seems to have been to make a watchkeeper’s life less of a challenge, requiring less skill and, just like life ashore, fixated by screens.
Watchkeeper’s challenge: staying awake on a “posture-perfect” chair
Crammed with consoles and instruments, with insufficient space to pace up and down, dominated by that “posture-perfect” chair, situated just where a sensible person might wish to stand and examine the bearing of a light or judge a collision risk. To people of a certain vintage, who kept watch entirely on their feet, and knew that to sit down in the pilot chair or chart-room settee was to risk the sack, the presence of such chairs in the modern wheelhouse is an anachronism.
How can any watchkeeper stay awake if they sit on that? But then, we are told by sincere and well-meaning operational managers – people today just will not tolerate having to stand for their watch. And to do them justice, a six-hour watch, with a sleep pattern interrupted by port calls ad infinitum, with accommodation that is probably vibrating and noisy, is not what would be recommended for either a long life or a satisfying career. Watchkeeping masters, not enough support on board, ferocious and unforgiving schedules all combine, we are told, to many people being almost zombies by the time their tour ends.
But can anything be done other than more fancy instruments and equipment to make the lives of these hard-pressed people less intense? Probably not in a hurry, with Trump-induced congestion all around Europe and the feeders going like the clappers to shift the logistic logjam, while the long-haul tonnage waits at anchorages for a berth. Just make sure the logbook records your rest periods, not counting those in the wheelhouse chair.
(Photo by Norwegian Coast Guard)
*Michael Grey is a past Master Mariner and former editor of Lloyd’s List. This column is published with the kind permission of The Maritime Advocate.