Call to Port
The American Tern made a call to the southern region of Spain on the Atlantic . We loaded up cargo in Rota as it was a bit of a brief stay for the crew. Only a small parcel of cargo was anticipated, and even with the delay due to the joining Chief Mate missing his flight, our stay seemed too brief! We would eventually depart by sundown
Yet, while in Rota, I experienced my first cargo watch, and my nerves quelled from a bit of heightened anxiety to a calm supervisory role almost pleased and entertained while observing the long shore’s banter between one another as their motions seemed a bit choreographed, all the while, speaking in one of the romance languages, Spanish . You see, this long shore gang was a culmination of local Spaniards and Americans, yet the Spanish which was spoken seemed far from the Spanish I learned while growing up in Southern California .
While on Watch, within the belly of the ship and down in number two hold, I imagined what a fish would feel like, trapped in the gut of such a beast. The crawl down from the main deck wasn’t so bad; it only required a thirty foot descent into the lower reaches of the hull, utilizing two encased ladders, each equal in length. As well, each piece of cargo whether it was a container or a vehicle, seemed to be set in slow motion as workers utilized the ship’s very own crane while in conjunction with workers below calling the intended placement of the cargo; this action surveyed by the workers above the hold and with the cargo poised above, was reminiscent of a hawk hovering to check on whether its prey would be a suitable candidate for a good meal. The precious cargo was then lowered into position down below and man-handled, literally, by the gang within the hold. This whole routine was duplicated many times over.
The temperatures hovered about around 30 degrees Celsius or about 88 degrees Fahrenheit, but a dry heat I can tolerate. After noontime, I quickly changed and cleaned up as I headed into town. But not before stopping into the local military exchange to see what items of value I might want to buy in the future. I was not prepared for any large purchases, and neither did I care to huff around some bag of incidentals all while strolling through the back streets of Cadiz ! I was on a mission to look around Spain !
My long, yet, enjoyable walk enabled for yours truly to lose himself within the sprawling town of Cadiz . I was told, half the crew joined in on my intentions, as well after listening to their similar stories and adventures.
The beaches nearby were packed with young and old, and its citizens were even spotted walking the promenade just above on the cliffs along the boulevard, Mirador de las Almenas. Much like La Jolla in California or a bit like Alki Beach near Seattle , many of the small shops were intertwined with bleached white stucco villas and apartments all within walking distance or a short commute by moped. It was Siesta time, the hours between one o’ clock and five o’ clock where locals rested between morning and night work.
I happened to make it back in time to the ship, and with enough of a break to catch a nap. Our port call would end, but not before enjoying a complete day of Southern Spanish flair.
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