Atlantic voyage - part two

First sight of land after crossing the Atlantic - Northern Ireland in the early morning.

A few hours later, Liverpool seen from the mouth of the Mersey. The city where I learned much of my trade as a young reporter. Long ago, on a foggy morning down by the docks in the far distance, I found a body, a minor and sad scoop.

In the very centre, you can see the bulk of the Anglican cathedral, largest in the United Kingdom, fifth largest in the world. In my day, the bishop had once been a top-ranked cricket player for England.

The Eilbek squeezes through a lock into Liverpool's container terminal. It's almost as tight as it looks.

After tying up, time for a barbeque on the Eilbek's aft deck.

Britain was enduring a serious heatwave and the Liverpool I remembered as often grey and damp was parched. There were watering restrictions in parts of the UK and temperatures were close to breaking records. Antwerp was sweltering.

Globalization at work. Tractors for Canada being loaded in Antwerp. Didn't we once make tractors?

In Antwerp, I found memorials to the Canadians who fought across the Scheldt - with more than 6,000 casualties - in the autumn of 1944. Their action preserved intact most of the harbour's facilities and allowed Allied ships to start unloading vital supplies for the final phase of the European war. One memorial mentioned the CO of the Royal Hamilton Light Infantry who I interviewed for a documentary some years ago.

As my uncle had been with the First Canadian Army, I felt a touch emotional standing by the river, wondering what it was all like when he came through.

Heading home. Not quite cruise ship conditions (note oxygen cylinders!), but quite manageable. On the eastbound voyage, I'd had the vessel more or less to myself, but, returning, had some very pleasant British, French and German companions.

After dinner the captain and chief engineer relax at the stern.

The first day back at sea was calm, but, as the chart below indicates, things were about to change once we were past the northern tip of Scotland.

Atlantic storm. I've spent a fair amount of time at sea and this was, by far, the worst thirty-six or so hours I've ever experienced. The constant jarring, unexpected jerks, rolling, crashing of dislodged objects, vibration and continual shuddering of the propeller were not only physically, but mentally, exhausting. You know it's bad when even reading becomes an effort. I had to hold onto the mattress to stay in my berth and, as for the toilet, that's definitely not for this blog.

The St. Lawrence is not just beautiful - on this occasion it was also blessedly calm.

Back in Montreal. 6661 nautical miles round trip. Great time.