Ship Spotting
Our generous kids gave us iPads last Christmas. One of the first apps I downloaded is called “ShipFinder.” It lets you choose a nautical locale and track the slow movement of ocean-going vessels. Click on a ship icon and up pops its size, destination, and maybe even some pictures. My youngest son Ben commented, in a kindly manner mind you, that I managed to choose one of the geekiest apps available.
He was right. But at a certain point in life you just don’t care about your geeky impulses. In fact, I gave free rein to my inner geek and began taking photos of ships to upload to ShipFinder—an interaction the app encourages. Our nearby Port of Olympia has seen an increase in traffic in recent years, mostly ships picking up logs. Whenever possible, I am there with my camera. I upload the pix to ShipFinder as soon as I can and am tickled to see my name attached to ocean-going vessels like the Global Wisdom (Panamanian registration), Mount Rainier (Hong Kong), and Yangtze Pioneer (Singapore). I’ve been known to demonstrate ShipFinder to friends just to register modest surprise when my byline shows up.
Why this fascination with ships? I think it was because I was raised in the plains, far from the shining sea. Of course, we had vast horizons of our own, even if filled with corn and soybeans instead of rolling waves. And when you think about it, Midwesterners have much in common with mariners. We are used to the long view and feel claustrophobic in hilly terrain where vistas are short and sunsets get cut off too soon.
That may be why an inordinate number of graduates from Merchant Marine Academy at Kings Point, New York hail from the Midwest. I imagine they set out to be seafarers because the ocean, when it is behaving itself, is nothing but a plain of water, divided into navigable squares of latitude and longitude much like the 640-acre sections that crisscross the prairies. And of course there is the draw of the exotic. As W. H. Auden wrote, “Farmer and fisherman, both thinking the other has it good.”
What also attracts me is the pure immensity of a ship. That is why it was a special thrill to be on the scene when two tugs guided the good ship Oshimana (Singapore) into port. Just before the tugs pushed the 650-foot ship up to the dock, they nudged it into a slow dance, spinning it around so it nosed toward the Pacific, the better to speedily head back to Shanghai when its business was done.
Here, thanks to Ben’s able production assistance, is a GIF of the ballet: