see you later alligator

From a round-up on Kaiju and Kaiju-adjacent packaging and logos curated by Super Punch, we stumble across perhaps the greatest, retired mascot (see also) ever—the able Alligator for Mitsui O.S.K. Lines (Osaka-Shōsen-Kobe, MOL), one of the largest shipping companies in the world. For all the container cargo we see passing through, I am really surprised we’ve never noticed or at least registered this one before. Do you have any other nominees aligned with this theme?

pilotage

The always excellent Nag on the Lake directs our attention to a quite visually captivating coast chart of the world’s lighthouses to include differentiation by their distinctive signal patterns. Lights at Sea not only shows the location of these navigational beacons but also the light class and characteristics, fixed, flashing, coloured or encoded, that help ships triangulate their location upon approaching land.

dead reckoning

On this day in 1969, the luxury ocean liner the Queen Elizabeth 2, in service until 2008 and since last year, a floating hotel in Dubai, began her maiden voyage from the shipyards in Southhampton to New York, and was the first private, commercial vessel to avail itself of the US Navy’s Global Positioning System constellation of artificial satellites, heralding the end of navigation by compass and sextant. Coincidentally, also on this day in 2000, Bill Clinton made accurate and detailed GPS telemetry available to the public for any venture. 

tornello

Not without controversy on both sides of the debate, Venice installed turnstiles (tornelli) and gates to limit access and control crowds, suggesting that priority would be given to residents over the throngs of tourists and holders of public transportation passes.
In practise, the move was probably more symbolic and resulted in few bottlenecks or people being turned away entirely and probably did send the signal that perhaps tourists should try to book off-season or head for less popular areas. What do you think? The gates’ detractors argued, however, that perhaps more ought to be done to dissuade cruise ships from dominating the port or cheap flights from flocking to regional airports and divert visitors well before they arrive and such queuing and quotas make it seem like the authorities are affirming and reinforcing the amusement atmosphere already associated with heavily-visited areas.

isthmus

Via Super Punch we learn that some influential individuals in Thailand’s business and government sectors are entertaining an ambitious infrastructure project that would create the south east Asia equivalent of the Suez or Panama canals by excavating a shipping lane through the country’s narrow land-bridge at Kra. The short-cut through the Malay peninsula would connect the Pacific and Indian oceans and would yield significant reductions in transit times and allow container ships to bypass territorially disputed and pirate-haunted waters.

merseyside

The only acceptable reclama that for changing a duly christened ship’s namesake would be of course to honour a living and buoyant luminary like Sir David Attenborough. Boaty McBoatface does not go away entirely, however, as one of the auxiliary vessels of this scientific ship, now the RRS Sir David Attenborough and forever twain, is called the “Boaty.”

icebreaker and impasse

The somewhat ironically named Crystal Serenity is the first leviathan of a cruise-liner to haul holiday-makers through the once fabled Northwest Passage (only navigable year around since 2009 due to the arctic pack ice) and recently completed its maiden voyage, as Jalopnik reports.
Not only were guests a bit disappointed to not see majestic icebergs parting before them or penguins and polar bears accompanying them, it seems they also failed to appreciate the infamy of being the first “explorers” here. Aside from stark environmental concerns, as the sea-lanes widen and traffic inevitably increases, it also poses a vexing problem for Canada since the waters are part of the country’s internal territory but the rest of the maritime world has already decided (without conferring first with Canada) that there should be free and unhindered transit for all. Depending on how negotiations go forward, Canada might maintain its fishing and environmental regulations but not the power to bar any vessel entry—saddled with the responsibility for combatting piracy, smuggling and clean-up operations when a spill or a wreck does occur.

they'll be bluebirds over

For us, of course, Dover and its surrounds were more than a departure point and terminal, with its iconic chalk cliffs and stretches of beaches.  As always, click on any image to enlarge.
We were delighted, however, to also discover the series of white escarpments outside the town of Seaford (between Brighton-by-the-Sea and Eastbourne) in East Sussex called Beachy Head and the Seven Sisters. It was a pleasant hike through a tidal estuary, populated by cows and sheep, to the undulating cliffs, marching along pebbly strands that were abundant with the signs of partial fossil imprints—though no terribly exciting specimens were to be found.
The Seven Sisters, owing to their whiter character and lack of potentially anachronistic additions (there being only a sedate golf course a top the cliffs), are often favoured by film-crews as a substitute site, an understudy for the more famous White Cliffs of Dover.

crowd-sourced

Some with the UK’s Natural Environment Research Council might be smarting over its decision to ask the internet to choose the name for its newest research vessel that will ply the Arctic seas and was expected to christened after a great explorer or naturalist. Instead with due ceremony in the finest naval tradition, Boaty McBoatface will be launched on its maiden voyage in 2019. I heard this on Radio 4 yesterday, but Boing Boing had the scoop and ran with it. One of the Happy Mutants was advertising a product from its emporium under a similar moniker, and I thought to myself, “you had me at McBoingface,” not yet knowing the reference.

the devil and the deep blue sea

If you have not yet treated yourself to the absolutely edifying oblectation of Futility Closet series of podcasts, I strongly recommend you began with their latest instalment on the forgotten story of gentleman merchant raider of World War I, Felix Graf von Luckner. This swash-buckling villain has been overshadowed by other semi-legendary figures of the time—like the Red Baron, but was turned hero for his humanity and persecuting war without causalities. Posing as a Norwegian logging vessel, Luckner’s captained his crew of privateers in a somewhat anchronistic sailing ship called the Seeadler through the supply lines of the Atlantic, confounding materiel delivery and treating his hostages as friends—a sentiment that was reciprocated, but that’s only the barest outline of the tale. It’s definitely worth working backwards as well to catch up on all the engrossing episodes.

press-gang or 1812 overture

While the deportment of history—when one scratches the surface—shows affairs to be far otherwise, international largess, hegemony seems reserved as a soft-power to just a select few or active belligerents, an encouraging word to play along. Learning a little bit, however, about the long-lived British practise of impressment. Comparable to the phenomena that goes by the name of crimping or shanghaiing, so called press-gangs of the Admiralty, in lieu of a standing order for conscription or compulsory service, the privileged purchase of impressment was enjoyed from the times of George I until the early nineteenth century by English navies.
This practise of policing the idle and the incorrigible into service at sea was widespread and took place at sailors’ haunts by hook or by crook, with the poor having no recourse other than to oblige themselves to a fixed term aboard that was subject to multiple extensions with pay offset by half a year and no defined career track for non-officers. Any by-stander might fall prey to this scheme—especially merchant seamen that betray some degree of acumen. As tensions in European waters increased in post-revolutionary France, Britain believed it had a moral right to impressment, and revisiting one of the many issues left unresolved in the American War for Independence—once Canadian had had its limit with poaching—Britain refused to recognise the concept of naturalisation—that is, renouncing one’s subjecthood in order to gain citizenship and enter the employ of the more profitably import-export business. The acquisition of this labour-force (and of course the pay for commercial shipping was far better than service for king and country), in the pall of the Napoleonic wars, ignited the conflicts of 1812. The northern US states attested that such conscription was routine, sealed by a shilling sunk in a drink, while the South was vocally against this kind of slavery and the federalist prerogative. Never an attempt to reclaim the North American colonies but rather with the aim of destabilising revolutionary forces, this bone of contention and forced repatriation makes me think of the uniquely American habit (Uganda is also party, to the denunciation of the US) of universal taxation and burgeoning desire to leave it all. It strike me as if there is a bit of no quarter to be found here either, no matter what civil society has previously conceded to—like living off the grid or shedding one’s birth-rite. What do you think? Are we all still so impressed to allegiance to one system or other and left with little choice?

able i was, ere i saw elbe

Here are a few parting-impression of our little trip to Hanseatic Hamburg, one of three of Germany’s city-states but unique in many ways. Though our exposure was limited to the usual tourist-experience, it struck me as quite livable, more so than other metropolitan areas—though there were distinct signs of gentrification and I had the feeling that denizens were cleft if not to their class but to the demographics of their boroughs, a truth about gentrification that was probably peppered by the voting Sunday and campaigning in the air.
It was also quite striking to me how this city, this inland empire, as close to the Baltic as to the Atlantic, controlling only the narrows of the Elbe for trade, has retained its dominance, even as many other knots only over-land and over-sea routes have faded.
It seems a lot of naturally endowed infrastructure, staging has been forgot, whereas Hamburg remains an attractive force. There are outposts, once regaled in the same way, along the roads that once brought trade between the great cities, usually anchored to the seaways, but have only memories to show for their strategic locations. I am grateful, however, that Hamburg preserved its heritage and has only grown its capacity for import-export, without regard for how the paradigm of trade might have changed.
There’s a genuine character that’s formed and sustained the famous Reeperbahn (named after the street where the rope-weavers lived) and Saint Pauli, despite the tourists but maybe because. Not far afield from its renowned football-pitch lies a brutal-looking WWII era anti-aircraft tower. The finely- tiled old Elbe tunnel is buried deep underneath the river and the narrow lane is open to cars during rush-hour and not just foot traffic.
The bureaucracy has created a unique skyline, as has the corporate headquarters and the prestige-projects, like the newly added Elbe-Philharmonic, that are terriors of the shipping business that remains as big and prominent as ever. With some two-thousand four-hundred bridges, Hamburg has the most crossings of any city on Earth and has more canals than both Amsterdam and Venice combined.  I am not sure if that figures in number or volume, as Venice did seem to be unsurpassed in the quirkiness of its waterways.

The architectural heritage of the city, blocks of warehouses that until recently characterised a free-trade zone, are really transfixing when set against the history and machinery—the cranes and cargo containers, and, as office-space for any business wanting a foothold, still are prized real-estate and without, out-priced, denigrating where one might hang his shingle.  I am really glad that we had the chance to visit and spend a few days discovering, and I am looking forward to going back in warmer weather, even if that means braving the crush of other visitors and not having the place all to our selves.

universal coordinated time

The tradition of dropping the ball in New York’s Times Square—and derivative celebrations, which began with the year 1908 after fireworks displays were banned in Gotham over safety concerns has much older roots that connect the count-down with navigation on the high-seas and reflect on the nature of time and time-keeping itself. The Naval Observatory in Washington, DC had installed a time-ball in 1845 for the benefit of fleets launching out from the Delmarva Peninsula for the antipodes that fell daily to mark high-noon. This temporal landmark goes back to the Royal Observatory east of London, which rests on the Greenwich meridian. While it was relatively easy for ships at sea to calculate changes in latitude (north, south) by gauging their position under the stars, reckoning degrees, minutes and seconds of longitude proved much more of a challenge.
A navigator could figure how far east or west one had traveled by knowing the difference in time at his present location relative to his point of departure, but clockworks did not yet have their sea-legs and it was not possible to keep good measure, until the development of the sturdy maritime chronometer, invented in 1737 in England, whose chief berth was at Greenwich, later declared to be the Prime Meridian in a convention chaired by US president Grover Cleveland. A bright red ball was installed on the observatory’s bell tower—visible from all around, that has fallen daily since 1833 as an aid cue for passing ships to synchronise their watches—although at 1300 since the crews were busy calibrating earlier with the noon-time angle of the sun. The newspaper magnate wanted to give the gathered crowds a similar cue, bereft of his former pyre and beacons, with a dazzling effect and commissioned the first illuminated ball to be lowered at the stroke of midnight to usher in the New Year.

marathon or hurtigurti

Kottke has a brilliant article, including links to the video broadcasts in their unedited entirety, of the Norwegian revival of the phenomena of slow-television—like the advent of the station-managers to broadcast a burning Yule Log over the holidays so staff did not need to work on Christmas or interstitial filler of city scenes accompanying temperatures and weather forecasts from around the world.
Norwegian productions have included a hearty fire in the hearth of course, hours of salmon swimming upstream, and most famously an epic and majestic journey, lasting some five and a half days in full, of a cruise through the fjords. The live broadcast was wildly popular and was not only viewed at least for some length by more than half the population of Norway, but many residents also went out to greet and even follow the ship as it passed to be part of the show. What do you think it means that such continuous shots receive such high ratings? What patient activity, from start to finish, would you recommend for the slow-tv treatment?

boreal, austral

These are not climes we've ventured to ourselves yet, so it is proving exciting to learn about the ice caps and their ancient and modern histories via the ever-excellent Atlas Obscura's Polar Week. Be sure to check out more of their curious and far-flung post-cards from exotic places.

fjord explorer

PfRC will be taking a bit of a sabbatical for the next few days for continuing adventures on the road—this time to Norway and back. Please stay tuned to our little travel blog, in the meantime, for holiday dispatches and postcards from the great northern reaches.

peer gynt

Though still several weeks away, I am very, very excited about planning for our next big vacation—this time to explore a bit of Norway, and the maiden voyage of our new camper van. And there is definitely something too about being about to plot one's own course that is only gotten through driving. I have been studying quite a bit about the history and culture of the place and find it interesting how the more attention that one pays to a subject (parallel to the car we are waiting to take possession of, which seems to be on the road everywhere right now) happenings and coincidence seem to coalesce and get in the spot-light.

Though I am sure that the majesty of nature, one of the chief things to find out, is something immediate, I suspect that knowing at least a little of the historical and cultural context of a destination (or a whole string of them) infinitely contributes, beyond the facts and the figures and preparedness, to the whole grand experience of discovery and reconciling the unexpected.