Tramp Steamers and Landing Barges
On Christmas Day Melanie and I were comparing notes on our youthful dreams of travel. After finishing high school, I had wanted to work my way to Europe on a tramp steamer, and then cycle through Europe, staying at youth hostels. I even sent away for all the necessary information. College, marriage, and raising a family intervened. Melanie on the other hand, reached Europe and traveled on her own for a year. “I wish we had known each other then,” I told Melanie, “I would have loved traveling with you.” She agreed, “There were many times that I wished I had a friend to travel with.” Bob and Lee overheard our conversation, especially about the tramp steamer, which gave Bob an idea. “How about sending you two up to Campbell River this spring to board the MV Aurora Explorer? That’s pretty close to a tramp steamer.” It is a 135-foot landing craft that transports a wide variety of heavy equipment and freight throughout the Gulf of Georgia and Discovery Islands… a freighter that just happens to accommodate 12 passengers on its 5-day delivery route.
Bob and I are familiar with the Marine Link deliveries. In the summer of 1998, we were on Middle Rendezvous Island building a dock and landing for our future home. The only way to get building material to the island was with a Marine Link landing craft. We called it a barge. We never knew when the delivery would take place, it all depended on currents and tides. Our first delivery came at two in the morning.
THE NIGHT THE BARGE CAME
Morningstar’s Journal
19 August 1998
It came in the middle of the night - 2 am to be exact - the barge delivering the lumber for our ramp and landing. Bob had set the alarm clock for 1:30, and at the first ring had quickly gotten out of bed. Yet he did it so quietly that I remained undisturbed and continued to sleep. The sound of the hatch opening was my first awareness of the pre-dawn delivery. I called out, “Is it here?” Bob was already climbing down the boarding ladder to get into the dinghy. “Yes, it is. I’m going to row over to meet it. You go back to sleep.” I could now hear and feel the rumbling engines. Through the porthole I could see a brightly lit shape looming just off our stern - a spotlight pierced through the darkness of a moonless night. It looked like an extraterrestrial spaceship had landed in our bay, but it was the Aurora Explorer. And no, I wouldn’t be going back to sleep. I didn’t want to miss this. Surprisingly, the air was not cold and I sat on the coaming still wearing my black nightgown. I could see Bob in his yellow slicker pulling on the oars as he rowed to shore; then pointing out to the deck engineer the crude platforms we had built last week to hold the lumber. With an uneven rock and boulder shoreline, you have to find other ways of doing things. The deck engineer nods. This is familiar to him, he sees it all the time out here. The barge is the lifeline of the outer islands - the only way to acquire building materials, heavy equipment, and fuel. A large yellow truck is on the barge tonight, “Superior Propane” emblazoned in bright red letters on its side. The marine barge is also a necessity that adds greatly to our building costs – the unforeseen cost of living out here.
Bob’s Notes
It was 2 am on a cool, windless morning. No moon - stars bright. Suddenly out of the darkness, there are lights. Red and green running lights. Vapor lamps on the working deck. Lights on the bridge and the bright square windows of the passenger deck lounge. A great spotlight searching the shoreline as the Aurora Explorer rounds North Point and turns into our bay on Middle Rendezvous Island. As the barge turns slowly in the bay, the spotlight catches Morningstar fifty feet away, sitting on the deck of Chiron in her long black nightgown, a cat on either side. All three watching the barge bringing lumber for the landing and boathouse; at the same time sleepy tourists on the barge were standing at the lounge windows, cameras flashing at the sailboat with its lady and her crew. The bay, dark and quiet moments ago, is now filled with light and sound. The sound of powerful engines reversing, water churning from the twin props, deck crew calling to each other, heavy chains being moved - the whine of the hydraulic winch.
I was in Dearheart, halfway between Chiron and the shore, rowing to the crude platforms that we had built over the last few days. These would hold the lumber just above the high tide mark and would serve as a place to work for the first stages of construction.
The barge and I reached shore together. It quieted and its main lights went off. The deck engineer and I spoke briefly about how the lumber was to be unloaded. Two hours later, the Aurora Explorer was gone and I was back on Chiron. Morningstar and I sat in the luxury of the dark and near silence. Water lapping on the shore. Frogs on Arbutus Point. Wind freshening. We watched the stars, and water flickering with bioluminescence. As we talk, neither of us could imagine not being here. Likewise, neither of us could have imagined a year ago, that this is where we would be now. Two people, a couple of cats, a boat - now an island home. It is a love story.
... Bob and Morningstar
Bob and I are familiar with the Marine Link deliveries. In the summer of 1998, we were on Middle Rendezvous Island building a dock and landing for our future home. The only way to get building material to the island was with a Marine Link landing craft. We called it a barge. We never knew when the delivery would take place, it all depended on currents and tides. Our first delivery came at two in the morning.
THE NIGHT THE BARGE CAME
Morningstar’s Journal
19 August 1998
It came in the middle of the night - 2 am to be exact - the barge delivering the lumber for our ramp and landing. Bob had set the alarm clock for 1:30, and at the first ring had quickly gotten out of bed. Yet he did it so quietly that I remained undisturbed and continued to sleep. The sound of the hatch opening was my first awareness of the pre-dawn delivery. I called out, “Is it here?” Bob was already climbing down the boarding ladder to get into the dinghy. “Yes, it is. I’m going to row over to meet it. You go back to sleep.” I could now hear and feel the rumbling engines. Through the porthole I could see a brightly lit shape looming just off our stern - a spotlight pierced through the darkness of a moonless night. It looked like an extraterrestrial spaceship had landed in our bay, but it was the Aurora Explorer. And no, I wouldn’t be going back to sleep. I didn’t want to miss this. Surprisingly, the air was not cold and I sat on the coaming still wearing my black nightgown. I could see Bob in his yellow slicker pulling on the oars as he rowed to shore; then pointing out to the deck engineer the crude platforms we had built last week to hold the lumber. With an uneven rock and boulder shoreline, you have to find other ways of doing things. The deck engineer nods. This is familiar to him, he sees it all the time out here. The barge is the lifeline of the outer islands - the only way to acquire building materials, heavy equipment, and fuel. A large yellow truck is on the barge tonight, “Superior Propane” emblazoned in bright red letters on its side. The marine barge is also a necessity that adds greatly to our building costs – the unforeseen cost of living out here.
Bob’s Notes
It was 2 am on a cool, windless morning. No moon - stars bright. Suddenly out of the darkness, there are lights. Red and green running lights. Vapor lamps on the working deck. Lights on the bridge and the bright square windows of the passenger deck lounge. A great spotlight searching the shoreline as the Aurora Explorer rounds North Point and turns into our bay on Middle Rendezvous Island. As the barge turns slowly in the bay, the spotlight catches Morningstar fifty feet away, sitting on the deck of Chiron in her long black nightgown, a cat on either side. All three watching the barge bringing lumber for the landing and boathouse; at the same time sleepy tourists on the barge were standing at the lounge windows, cameras flashing at the sailboat with its lady and her crew. The bay, dark and quiet moments ago, is now filled with light and sound. The sound of powerful engines reversing, water churning from the twin props, deck crew calling to each other, heavy chains being moved - the whine of the hydraulic winch.
I was in Dearheart, halfway between Chiron and the shore, rowing to the crude platforms that we had built over the last few days. These would hold the lumber just above the high tide mark and would serve as a place to work for the first stages of construction.
The barge and I reached shore together. It quieted and its main lights went off. The deck engineer and I spoke briefly about how the lumber was to be unloaded. Two hours later, the Aurora Explorer was gone and I was back on Chiron. Morningstar and I sat in the luxury of the dark and near silence. Water lapping on the shore. Frogs on Arbutus Point. Wind freshening. We watched the stars, and water flickering with bioluminescence. As we talk, neither of us could imagine not being here. Likewise, neither of us could have imagined a year ago, that this is where we would be now. Two people, a couple of cats, a boat - now an island home. It is a love story.
... Bob and Morningstar
posted by Looking for Hope | 1:19 PM
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Happy Super Bowl Sunday everyone!!!
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