Freighter Trip - Hanjin Miami
Busan to Oakland: l4-28 April 2011
Travel Journal
Day 16, April 28, Thursday
Hello, San Francisco!
Fabulous weather: morning fog on the Bay, then sunny, warm, and calm.
Awake at 5:30, I lay in bed sleepily and dreamily until I realized it was the last day of my voyage and I should be on the Bridge to see us sail under the Golden Gate Bridge and into the Port of Oakland. Peering out the cabin’s window, I saw land and lights and guessed that would be the South Bay. Arriving on the Bridge at 6:00, I met the captain and a Filipino mate-in-training. I watched and watched everything, trying to savor and remember it all. From the Bridge’s port wing I watched the pilot’s boat approach and come alongside a hanging rope ladder. I watched the pilot grab the ladder and heave himself up. How long would it have taken me to get up the courage to do that? It took the pilot no time at all; he didn’t even pause. Once the pilot came up to the Bridge, I stayed well out of the way but within sight and hearing of the action. It was somewhat foggy and the sea was flat and gray.
As we approached the Golden Gate, I went outside on the port wing and prepared to sing my arrival. Realizing the men inside the Bridge might hear me, I decided not to belt out the songs, but I would at least sing them aloud - with my head slightly turned away from the Bridge door.
And I sang from my memory of Al Jolson
California here I come, right back where I started from
Where bowers of flowers bloom in the spring
Each morning at dawning
Birdies sing and everything
And sun-kissed miss says don’t be late
That’s why I can hardly wait
Open up your Golden Gate
California here I come
and then of Jeanette MacDonald
San Francisco, open your Golden Gate
You’ll let nobody wait outside your door
San Francisco, here is your wanderin’ one
Saying I’ll wander no more.
Other places only make me love you best
Tell me you’re the heart of all the golden west
San Francisco, I’m coming home to you
Roaming no more.
Having completed my homecoming ritual, I slipped inside the Bridge and sat on the ledge of the rear left wall where I could observe everything. All the players - the pilot, the captain, the first mate, and the mate-in-training - acted professionally, confidently, calmly, and politely. It was like a well-rehearsed, choreographed routine they were all performing. I held my breath waiting for some drama: What if the pilot called for a slight turn that the ship didn’t take? What if the wind or current forced a smaller vessel too close to us? My attention was focused - on the men and equipment on the Bridge, on the bay around us, on other vessels, the water, the looming port quay. Such tension, such drama, but without a mishap. It was thrilling. How that pilot must have known that harbor. How long does it take to gain such knowledge and confidence? No one discussed anything or questioned the pilot’s instructions. Each of the pilots commands were repeated twice by the mate. The captain just watched, not saying anything.
And we coasted smoothly right on up to the quay without a hitch. Really a great show!
I’d watched us come into port in Long Beach, but it wasn’t the same. But then Long Beach Harbor isn’t San Francisco Bay.
When we’d docked, I went down to shower and dress and go to breakfast, which Johnson had saved for me. Then began the goodbyes. I tried to catch as many of the guys as I could, especially Johnson, Elron, Ramon, the captain, and Kai.
Ordinarily I’d have been fretting about how my baggage would get off the ship and to Winnie’s car, but by this time I knew that the crew would take care of everything smoothly and efficiently. All I had to do was take my backpack and walk (bouncingly) down the gang plank while keeping steady footing and avoiding the grease on the handrail. Kai gave orders to two seaman, whom I didn’t really recognize as they weren’t men I’d had any interactions with. At the bottom of the gang plank, I found my luggage on the quay still wrapped in giant netting. Kai asked me my plan to get out of the port, and on hearing that a friend would meet me at the gate, he instructed the seaman to stay with me on the shuttle and load my bags into the friend’s car. WOW! Was I impressed! The seaman loaded everything into the shuttle bus and then out again at the gate.
In the meantime, I was on the phone with Winnie. Directions had been conflicting: She was lost. The shuttle bus driver got on the phone with her and started to talk her through. At the gate, after the men had unloaded the baggage, the bus driver called to a worker on the other side of the gate to take over with directions. It was quite a show. A rugged, gruff, oldish black man was trying hard to be patient while clearly wondering, "How did I get into this?" Nevertheless, he was patient and very clear and brought her in. The men loaded Winnie’s SUV and off we went. This certainly wasn’t home terrain to her and she seemed stressed, but as I was happy and relaxed and feeling the confidence the seamen had given me, I encouraged her out through the port area maze, through Oakland, and up to Santa Rosa chattering all the way.
And that’s how I came home to San Francisco - well, Santa Rosa, but there’s no song for that - and my superb freighter voyage ended. How strongly I wanted to stay on that ship and just keep sailing around the world....