My Week and a Half

Here’s a run-down of what’s been going on since my last post. This is a ridiculously long post…but it’s been a busy couple of days.

Coming back in from the tsunami evacuation, we moored up at the Hilo state pier. Radio Bay was still overly surgy from the tsunami; it was too dangerous to try to figure out the currents with just one engine just to risk parting lines to the pier as the surges settled down. The Harbormaster in Hilo, Elton Suganuma was gracious enough to give us some pier space where the cruise ships normally moor up. But if we were going to be there past Monday, we would have to shift piers, because a cruise ship was due in very early on Tuesday morning. We’d already done one single engine unmooring/mooring, so I was pretty confident about being able to make it safely over to the next pier.

That was Saturday.

Sunday progressed fairly normally, until about 6 pm, when the winds picked up. We started getting gusts up to 30 kts in the harbor. And the surge got ugly. The OOD (Officer of the Deck = 24-hr live watch onboard ship) called me at about 11 pm, saying that we were starting to part lines. We were chafing through the chafe gear (thick canvas and padding designed to protect the lines from wearing on the deck fittings) and then working through the lines themselves. We had parted three lines when the OOD called.

I went into the ship at that point, figuring I wasn’t going to sleep at all at home, so if I wasn’t going to sleep, it might as well be on the ship. It was mostly to make myself feel better…there was nothing I could really contribute by being there. Not like I was gonna be able to single-handedly stop the surge.

By Monday morning, we had parted five lines. We were starting to run out of lines, so the Boatswains’ Mate Department started making more as quickly as they could. At this point, we had 13 lines over to the pier. Normally, we keep eight lines over: two breast lines, one fore and one aft each doubled up, and two spring lines, one leading forward and one leading aft each doubled up. The extra lines were two extra breast lines each fore and aft and one storm line leading far aft.

The weather didn’t let up at all on Monday, so when we went to shift piers at about 5:30pm once the barge had cleared out from the pier we were going to, the winds were at about 20 kts sustained, quartering us on the dock at the pier we were already on, and directly onto the beam to the pier we were going to. I hope that makes sense to readers…simplify it to say that 20 kts of wind during any mooring adds trickiness. Thankfully, there was a tug boat underway that had been assisting with helping the barge away from the pier, and BM1 O’Brien suggested that we contact the tug to have them stand by if we needed assistance. Great recommendation!

Getting underway from the pier went well. We were able to get the stern away from the pier fairly easily, giving small shots ahead on the port-side engine (the only one that works, don’t forget) while heaving around on line 1 with the capstan. The theory was that, if we could get enough of an angle off the pier to swing our stern through the wind, it would catch us and assist us getting set up for the approach on the new pier, which was at a 90-ish degree angle from the original pier. It was a good theory…putting it into practice wasn’t quite so easy. We alllllmosssst got our stern through the wind, but it was stubborn, so it didn’t quite make it. So, we asked the tug to come alongside, and make off to our port side to help push us into the new pier. Worked wonderfully. And then we were safely made off to the new pier.

But safely is a relative term. The surge at the new pier was just as bad as at the previous pier. We had discussed different options before shifting piers: getting back to our mooring in Radio Bay was discarded because the cut was so windblown that I wasn’t willing to try it on one engine with all forces pushing us forward (reduces effectiveness of rudders/steering); anchoring in the bay was ruled out because of the possibility of dragging anchor in the sea conditions, and getting underway was ruled out, because what if something happened to our remaining engine and then we were stuck out to sea in really crappy weather conditions without any propulsion…ugh…no good choices at all. So surging at the pier sounded like the best option.

We sat there the rest of Monday night, all day Tuesday, and through about half of Wednesday, waiting for our part. We didn’t part any more lines…we had 13 lines over again, including three of the barge hawsers that were on the pier that reduced the movement of the ship, sometimes more abruptly than felt normal. But we did pop six fenders.

The part finally arrived at 2 pm on Wednesday; we were underway by 4 pm. Thank goodness!

Now, let’s talk about that part we had been waiting on. We located it on Friday, it didn’t ship out until Tuesday, we received it on Wednesday. The Friday to Tuesday part bothered me. So in our CASCOR (casualty correction), we said: [Support Unit] THEN CONTACTED [Supply Unit] TO SHIP THE REQUIRED PART THAT WAS HOUSED IN THEIR INVENTORY. THE PART WAS BOXED AND DELIVERED TO [Supply Unit’s] SHIPPING DEPARTMENT ON MONDAY MORNING. THE SHIPPING DEPARTMENT FAILED TO SHIP THE PART ON MONDAY...UNIT REQUESTS AN INFORMAL INVESTIGATION TO THE DELAY IN SHIPPING A CAT4 PART. UNNECESSARY DELAYS CAUSED BY SUPPORTING UNITS AGGRAVATES DIFFICULTIES ALREADY INHERENT IN RECEIVING PARTS DUE TO OUR REMOTE LOCATION.

Just in case any CG-readers hadn’t seen it already.

The response I got back was via email: “It is not good practice to be throwing units that give assistance under the bus. If you felt this strong about the service you received you should have kept it in house and dealt with it through me. The [Supply Unit] does outstanding work in regards to support to the units. You would have waited much longer to receive this part through the stock system or through the vendor. The vendor quoted us two days minimum to Houston and another day to Hilo which would have the part arriving sometime Thursday at best.
I understand this was frustrating for you and the crew. It was frustrating for everyone involved in getting the part to the cutter, but we all make mistakes and this message post was unprofessional.”

Ouch. And whoops! But I can take, as well as receive feedback. Upon thoughtful consideration of the email, I realized that he was right…we did go a little overboard with our frustration. I think my MKC said at one point that it was the process that was important…our frustration, if we mentioned it, was just whining sea stories. And I agree; every part to every unit is important. It shouldn’t matter to the support system that we’re getting thrashed against the pier as we wait for a part; it’s more relevant just that we’re broken and they need to get the part to us as quickly as possible. However, our lack of professionalism got some high-level attention and there was a corrective action taken.

I received the official response back today… “A WAREHOUSE SHIPPING LINE FAILURE OCCURRED DUE TO A LACK OF FAMILIARITY SURROUNDING THE SHIPMENT OF NON-INVENTORY MATERIAL USING A [XXXXXX] DOCUMENT. TRAINING HAS SINCE BEEN CONDUCTED FOR ALL EMPLOYEES ON THIS PROCESS. IN ADDITION, THE [UNIT] ESTABLISHED CHECKS AND BALANCES TO ENSURE THIS TYPE OF FAILURE DOES NOT OCCUR AGAIN.”

In retrospect, we should have given the Support Unit a heads-up that we were about to throw somebody under the bus, and given them the opportunity to correct the problem before broadcasting it to the entire cutter fleet. I need to light candles, not lob Molotov cocktails.

That takes us through Wednesday. Thursday, we had some Homeland Security tasking that went off smoothly, and set us up timing-wise to do some fishing vessel boardings. Just as we were securing from our tasking, there was a good boarding candidate right in front of us. I love it when the plan comes together. So we got the boarding team together and over to the boat. The seas were a little bumpy, and I was doing long figure eights next to the fishing boat, as they continued their transit to Honolulu with the boarding team onboard.

And then this horrible noise started. Grinding, grumbling, loud, teeth-rattling vibration coming from the engine room, but transmitting all through the ship. The Ninjaneers sprang into action, followed their initial actions and had us come to all stop. We did some more troubleshooting and ended up locking the starboard shaft in accordance with our Casualty Control Manual. Needless to say, our operations were over for the day. It was something of a challenge to get our small boat back with a locked shaft. We had to go down swell, which reduced our maneuverability to the point that I could not keep a steady course, but continually turned a slow right arc.

I had never moored with a locked shaft. It was a good ship-handling evolution, though very tense. We had Station Honolulu’s 47’ Motor Life Boat assist us. One thing about KISKA’s crew that continues to inspire me is their ability to work as a team; during this evolution, our ability to work together expanded to include the true professionals from the Station. I stopped shaking from the adrenaline about 15 minutes after we got all lines over.
So, out goes the next CAT4 CASREP, the second in less than a week. We got divers to check underneath the boat for anything entangled in the shaft or any damage to underwater appendages. Neg res (negative results). That would have been an easy answer. We got underway the next day, Friday, to see if we could recreate the problem.

Now, let me say a few words about gremlins. They’re little bastards. They get into systems, and only show themselves at the most annoying times; but then when you go looking for them, they sneakily hide themselves away and there’s no getting at them. I’ve thought about getting a gremlin tattoo, but I can’t quite decide what the little f’ers look like, and I don’t know where to put it…maybe on the bottom of my foot, so I can crush them every day. Gremlins are a fact of life on ships, though, and you learn to live with, if not respect them.

Needless to say, when we got underway on Friday, we couldn’t recreate the vibration. I could see the little bastard gremlin, snickering away in his hidey hole, plotting his next evil appearance. So, we went back into an operational status, pending the reoccurrence of the vibration.

Saturday was a quiet day inport. We needed it.

Sunday we got underway; there were five fishing vessels returning to port, and the day lined up perfectly to board four of them. We think we caught a bad guy, a vessel that said they had a US Master, but may have just used him as a poseur. Case package should be submitted soon, and we’ll see if the lawyers agree.

Monday we stayed inport, getting a lot of good logistical stuff taken care of.

I’d been watching the weather all weekend long. We were due to head back to Hilo mid-week, and the trades have been up and strong which makes for snotty channel crossings. Not much to be done about it, ‘cause you can’t change the weather, but it’s good to know what we’re in for.

Tuesday we got underway to help out a CG LT with his graduate research, calibrating an HF radar that will help to monitor and predict currents. Good to improve search and rescue drift models. The weather was not good; winds were gusting to 30 kts. Our original intention was to depart for Hilo just after finishing the calibration, but the weather was bad enough that I decided to wait until Wednesday morning to see if the weather calmed down any.

Wednesday morning was still ridiculously windy, but I was anxious to get home, so we set out. The gremlin got bored and decided to come out to play. Gnarly, bad, ugly vibration started up again when we were about half-way through the Kaiwi Channel between Oahu and Molokai.

So here we are, back in Honolulu, investigating the vibration. The support guys are all over it and we hope to know more by the end of today. I’m not going to speculate yet on what this means. But here’s hoping for the best.

Murphy Is A SonuvaBi..., Er, I Mean, Mr. Murphy, Sir

Very Important Note to begin with: my heart goes out to the people of Chile who are suffering through such devastation and fear after the earthquake yesterday. I have never been in such a natural disaster, so I have no idea what they're actually going through. I hope it gets better for them quickly.

Yesterday, I cussed about Murphy. You know, whatever can go wrong, will go wrong, and all that. We have a little problem with a busted bolt that wreaked all kinds of havoc. A Cat 4 CASREP is never a good thing, but it's really hard to deal with at 1300W (1 pm Hawaii Standard Time = 3 pm Pacific Daylight Savings = 6 pm Eastern Daylight Savings) on a FRIDAY! We were scheduled to get underway over the weekend to go do something that needed to be done. Well, hell...with overnight shipping meaning two days to Hawaii, getting underway when we were scheduled to wasn't going to happen.

I remember sitting in the office at about 3:30 pm Friday, in between making frantic phone calls to our operational commanders, while MKC was making frantic phone calls to the logistics folks, and XO was sending frantic emails to the supply people, saying something like, well, Murphy's a son of a bitch. And a few other things that are less publish-able.

Phone calls were made, schedules were changed, and parts were ordered (we thought). I went home.

Last night the phone rang about an earthquake in Chile, 8.8 magnitude, with the possibility of a tsunami being generated. We were under a tsunami advisory. Ok, no big deal, really. We've had tsunami advisories before that were quickly canceled because nothing was going to happen. That'll happen this time again.

Well, then the phone rang again at 1 am. The tsunami warning had been issued. Hawaii was in the path, with landfall expected around 11 am Saturday morning. I ordered the crew to be recalled, and be on the ship first thing Saturday morning. I still wasn't sure at this point if we were going to attempt to get underway or not. But I wanted all the crew to be there if we needed to go.

I laid there in bed,with the lights on, staring at the ceiling for a good 10 minutes, going through different scenarios about how we could possibly get underway from Radio Bay with only one engine. Crazy stuff, like using the line throwing gun to get a line over to the bollards at the end of the cut, and putting our small boat in the water to keep us off the rocks. I still wasn't sure at this point if we were going to attempt to get underway or not...maybe the surge wouldn't be all that bad.

At 3 am, I got a phone call from our operational commander, asking for an hourly phone call for updates. I called the ship to ask them to execute. I still wasn't sure at this point if we were going to attempt to get underway or not...I wanted more information.

At 4 am, I got a phone call from XO with the latest update on the tsunami warning...the predicted wave height was 12 feet. No question about it this time...we had to get out of Radio Bay before 11 am.

At 6 am (well, actually, 10 minutes before 6, because my alarm was set for 6), I got a call requesting to know what our plans were. By this time, I've decided definitively that we must get underway. My choice came down to doing nothing, which risks leaving the ship in the parking lot (not a good idea), or being proactive about getting out, which risks running the ship aground, or punching a hole in the hull by bouncing off rocks in the cut. I'd rather fail trying to do something than to fail by doing nothing.

I've said before, it's a tight mooring. Let me describe it a little better this time.

The pier lays at 000T, or due north. We moor up port-side-to. As we pull in to the pier, we have to drive through the "cut," which is an opening between the Hilo Harbor breakwall and the state pier. On the chart, the cut measures 100 yds wide; in reality, the cut is about half that, 150 feet wide. KISKA's beam (width) is 21 feet. That means we've got about 65 feet on either side of the ship before we HIT SOMETHING! Once we get through the cut, which is about 300 yds long, we've got to twist around to port, and then back down about 150 yds to come in port-side-to our pier. Shoal water (=bad) is very close aboard. The water in Radio Bay is usually very calm, but high winds and waves from the east can turn it into a churny mess.

Getting underway is a little easier. We heave around on line 1 with the capstan on the bow, swinging the stern away from the pier. Then we ease away from the pier, and make an 80 degree turn to port through the cut. Once we're through the cut, the transit opens up and becomes much less tense.

That's with both engines online and available for use, though. With only the port engine, turning to port becomes tricky, especially at slow speeds.

I got to the ship at about 6:20, riding my bike in so I could leave my car at the house on high ground. The lines at the gas stations were already about 5 cars deep. I've never seen Hilo so hyper, especially on a Saturday morning.

I went down to the cut to check out what we had available on the pier. There are no bollards for putting lines over in the cut (one of my crazy ideas) until the very end.

XO had been on the ship since 4 am, so he was prepared with a bunch of information to pass...plans for the families, injured personnel being left behind, status of assist teams, as well as thoughts on the unmooring and transit evolutions. He made my job so much easier by being thorough, thoughtful and "forward leaning." I think he may have been a little disappointed when I told him that I would drive out because, if anyone was going to run the ship aground, it was going to be me. But he saw the wisdom of it, and seemed a little relieved that I'd be driving.

To shorten the story, we got underway just before 9 am, and headed outbound. We did put the small boat in the water, and used them as a push tug to help move the bow around and straighten up in the cut. My guidance to the cox'n and crew during our pre-brief was that if it was a choice between messing up the small boat on the rocks, or messing up the ship, they needed to be prepared to save the ship and wreck the small boat. Thankfully, it didn't come to that.The planning, discussions, and contingencies considered turned a potentially harrowing transit into a calm, smooth and fast evolution. We were through the cut before I knew it. The rest of the trip out of the bay was uneventful, except that there were so many other vessels underway headed out of the danger zone. And whales were everywhere once outside the harbor! The small boat made approaches on a bunch of boats to let them know they needed to be outside the breakwall, in deeper water to be safe.

Our shoreside contingent did a great job of keeping us up-to-date with the happenings on land, sending text pages like, "the water is sucking out of the bay" and "water is surging back now." The families were all safe in housing; even the ones that didn't live there were made welcome and comfortable. We had a presence at the Civil Defense Agency's Emergency Operation Center.

It was a little eerie, though. The warning messages had said that the first waves could be expected no earlier than 11:05. I happened to look at the clock at 11:04, and thought, here goes...wonder what this is gonna be like. I looked again at 11:06 and absolutely nothing was different. The shoreline folks hadn't seen anything either. We didn't get the first reports until about 11:45. And we didn't feel anything different offshore.

Finally, at 1:45ish, we were given the all clear. There hadn't been any destructive waves come into Hilo. It was still very surgy in the bay, and beaches are still closed until tomorrow morning. But we, our families, our community were all safe. We sent the small boat in first to check that the harbor was clear of major debris and to check the depth, in case anything had been swirled around into the channel.

Mooring back up was a little less smooth than getting underway. But, again, we did it safely, if not prettily.

As we were wrapping up for the day, XO and I talked about the day. What went well, what we could have done better. Our conclusion was that everyone did an outstanding job responding to a bad situation. I've said it before, but KISKA's crew is a great bunch of people. Today was just another example of the crew's ability to persevere through unfortunate circumstances. But I definitely have a renewed respect for Murphy. I thought the Cat4 CASREP was bad; I had no *idea* that we'd get a tsunami warning on top of it!

High Highs and Frustrating Annoyances

Another two weeks gone. We had the SEOPS (Special Emergency Operations) Team come out week before last to provide us some much needed focus on training. We got to devote the whole week to nuthin' but learnin'. The training team was accommodating and provided some valuable insights. Some people got to break-in at new positions and learn the ropes. We were working with a little bit of a disadvantage with the drills...our 1MC is broken right now, so we can't make pipes. It's like the PA system being out at the airport. We came up with a work-around, using hand held radios for "pipes" (we called it the 61MC, since we're using channel 61), but it's still a pain in the butt.

Then this last week we were underway. And busy. Three, no four, escorts, a towing exercise, flight ops, boardings, and whale patrols. There were some great!! experiences during the week. And some grindingly annoying frustrations.

The good parts: XO putting the ship right where she needed to go during a mooring (right off of SOPA (Senior Officer Present Afloat) and showing the JOs onboard How It Is DONE!) so that we didn't have to adjust lines at all...just "make up and double up all lines."

Me reading the wind the right way, anticipating a missed hook, and adjusting so that we made off to the Kona mooring ball on the first try with minimal fuss.

Pinning his temporary Cutterman's pin onto SN McKinstry, just a couple weeks after I got to give them out to MK2 Arevalo, BM3 Goracke and SN Andres. I *love* doing this...I got my permanent cutterman's pin while I was underway on HAMILTON, so I kinda feel like I'm passing it on to the next and upcoming generations.

A good friend getting her boat back in the water...sea trials and operations, here she comes!

Oh, and someone from the crew was recognized with being nominated for an award...I'll post more about this later. Need to make sure it's internet releasable. But it's super duper cool regardless!

The not so great parts...barely making it on time to two escorts because the escorted units changed their departure/arrival times by just enough to not make us miss them entirely, but leave us frantically scrambling to get into place while it was still worth while. Nothing like making all the preps to do something (including getting underway for *that* specific purpose) and having it fall apart through no fault of your own.

Breaking shit. I really didn't think it was that rough last night as we were transiting. Apparently I was wrong.

We've had a lot of stuff break recently (see 1MC bit above), and while none of it is critical, I start to wonder when the cumulative effect of all the broken equipment will degrade our effectiveness. Most of what is not working is either a redundant system or a last ditch measure to get out of an extremis situation. These items are designed to be a back up to prudent and attentive watchstanding. And while I absolutely trust my watchstanders, I know they're human and make mistakes (like dropping power to the ship while we're at special sea detail, getting ready to enter port...that was an adrenaline rush!), so the systems are there as a fail safe. And one of them going down at a time, I can live with...we can be a little more diligent with that work around; but to have multiple faults at the same time spreads us thin on where we need to pay attention. CASREPs are out on all of them...just waiting on parts and/or technical advice. The 160-240 day lead-time on parts is frustrating too.

That's enough frustrating stuff. We're in for a little bit, so we should have time to regroup and get some things fixed.

Happy Valentines Day!

Playing Nice With Others

In the OER (Officer Evaluation Report) world, this is known as "Teamwork," and it is defined as, "Ability to manage, lead and participate in teams, encourage cooperation and develop esprit de corps." A good mark is, "Insightful use of teams raised unit productivity beyond expectations. Inspired high level of esprit de corps even in difficult situations. Major contributor to team effort. Established relationships and networks across a broad range of people and groups, raising accomplishments of mutual goals to a remarkable level."

I strive for that, but still think I don't play nice with others sometimes. I try to...but I have a tendency to be blunt and sometimes strident in pursuit of making my point.

Without going into revealing details about what brought this up in my thoughts because a) the details are not really germane to the question, and b) it can be applied to more than one unit and interaction, I'm trying to work out an issue with a supporting unit (term used loosely in this case, not like the Navy's Supported and Supporting Unit). Of course I think I'm right...but I know that they've also got valid arguments/opinions/justifications for what happened on their end. I can't straight call them out without inserting myself where I have no right to be, but I also can't let the issue drop without comment because it had a direct impact on my ability to fulfill my responsibilities as CO.

My question is: how do I play nice with others when we don't always share a common understanding of critical issues, have the same gauge for determining priorities or have a commensurate level of ownership in the operation? When we don't have the same "give a shit" factor? Is it incumbent upon me, as the requestor, to thoroughly educate, explain and justify, or should I be able to rely on another entity's pursuit of professional excellence to provide the right answer?

I know the answer is somewhere in the middle of the two. And I know I have to pick my battles wisely.

I also know that most supporting units have more than one unit that requires attention...they've usually got six, or ten, or twenty, or forty or more. So my one little issue is sometimes barely a footnote in their daily calendar, but it's a major impact on my unit, my crew, and me. And I can only nag so much before I feel like I'm either just a pesky mosquito whining incessantly in someone's ear waiting to get slapped flat or maybe worse, hollering into an empty cavern with just my own echo answering back at me because no one else thinks it's important.

My new email signature contains a quote by Eleanor Roosevelt, "It is better to light a candle than to curse the darkness." I added it as a reminder to myself that I need to focus my time and attention on making processes work, rather than just complaining when they're broken. I acknowledge that it is a little self-promoting and self-righteous, but I still like it. Putting it out there on my signature means that other people are free to point out when I'm not living up to that standard.

Update No 2

Good grief, how did two weeks just fly by without me realizing it? I was trying to blog about once a week or every 10 days but I didn't quite make it this time around. I'm not really sure where the time went. Here are some photos from last week. FS2 Stickel is a *great* cook! He's even got a sense of humor. My club sandwich made me laugh out loud. I love the blue corn chips hair. And the cherry smile was less crooked before I got a hold of the plate. I was eating lunch on the bridge while we did some recreational boating boardings near Hilo. I don't think the boarding team really understood why I was laughing so hard when I answered them on the radio right after FS2 brought my plate up to the bridge.

It seemed like a busy week. We did some more boardings near Kona on Tuesday. After visiting about half a dozen of the boating public, we went about three miles offshore and had a swim call. The pipe was "Now, all salty dogs, mermen and Poseiden acolytes lay into the deep blue sea, now swim call." I realized later we should have added the depth of water, since we were swimming in 1178 fathoms of water...over 7000 feet deep! The water was nice and warm and there was about a two-foot ground swell that made for a fun little ride. I don't remember how many folks got in the water, but it was most of the crew.

I tried to get some good action shots, but was having "technical difficulties" (i.e., I don't know how to work all the bells and whistles on my camera), so this was the best I got. There were some fantastically acrobatic dives, this one by SN McKinstry.

We swam for about 45 minutes, and then cruised on. I spent a lot of time this past week doing time, speed, distance calculations; 60d = st (read sixty d street). I was concerned about when we were going to enter the Maui triangle. I didn't want to drive through the triangle during the dark. It's whale season, and they are everywhere! The humpback whales migrate to Hawaii from Alaskan waters, arriving in late October. They hang out through about May. But January, February and March is calving season. The whales like calm waters that are less than 100 fathoms deep, and the water in the Maui triangle is part of the Hawaiian Islands Humpback Whale National Sanctuary. So, we have to be careful driving through the triangle and other parts of the Sanctuary, and really most of the shallower water around the islands so we don't hit a whale...bad for the whale, and bad for the boat.

I had a couple of good one liners this past week. The first was one night when we were pulling into Honolulu right after sunset. My night vision is going bad; I really should have my glasses on when the sun goes down. But I had left my glasses down in my stateroom at some point earlier in the day, so when I went to take them from the case that lives in the corner of the bridge by my chair, they weren't there. I couldn't leave the bridge, so one of the QMOWs kindly went below and fetched them for me. So...there had already been a discussion of my spectacles. Anyway, XO was driving from the open bridge, since we were entering port, and I made a comment that the sky was tinted pink; it was almost glowing pink with all the vog in the area after the sun went below the horizon. I paused, and then said, "Oh, these must be my rose-colored glasses."

*I* thought it was funny. I think XO rolled his eyes.

Then, a couple of nights later, we were transiting through the Maui triangle. We were just south of Molokai, and all through the afternoon, there were whales everywhere, spouting, flapping fins, diving deep and jumping all the way out of the water. It really is very cool to watch. I went on watch just after dinner, about 5:30pm, just before sunset. It was a beautiful evening, flat calm seas, and the sun sinking into the haze. I didn't see any whales though, which kinda surprised me, after how active they had been during the afternoon. MKC came up right as it was getting really dark, and asked how the whales were. I said, "I haven't seen any since it got dark."

Really? Really?

Just for the record, that's not exactly what I meant, but it was pretty damn funny anyway.

Also just for the record, it's not always fun and laughter. Sometimes it's frustration and cussing. But that's enough for today; I need to go finish up cooking dinner. And there will always be the frustration and cussing to whine about later.

Update

We just got home last night from having been away for two weeks. It was a busy but relatively mellow patrol. Here's a few highlights:

We started out doing offshore security for the President of the United States when he was on his vacation in Kailua, HI. The weather was beyond beautiful, which definitely went a long way to making the four day period a good time. This was sunset on 2 Jan...notice the nearly calm seas.

I think I'm likely to end up one of those people who invariably talks about the weather. I check the National Weather Service Marine Forecast for Hawaiian Waters about four times a day, even when we're not underway. I cringe when the wind gusts over 15 knots when I'm ashore. I can almost calculate true wind in my head when I look at the anemometer that provides relative wind. My opinion about weather in Hawaii is that I really don't care how big the northwest swell is...18, 20 feet is fine, as long as the swell period is over about 13 seconds. This type of swell is a rolling ground swell; the ship just rides right over it, kind of like rolling hills in a car. Winds over 10 knots, though, usually makes a crappy chop. As the winds get stronger, the chop gets bigger and the ship just pounds into them, like beating into pot holes.

But we had great weather. The operations required a lot of attention by the bridge watch, but not a lot of involvement from the rest of the crew. So we fished about three to four hours a day, with three or four poles out at a time. We had no luck for the first few days. Theories abounded about why we weren't catching anything. We were going too fast; the best trolling speed is 7-9 knots; the ship doesn't clutch in until 9 kts, and we were usually going about 9.5 to 10 kts. The lines weren't put out behind the ship far enough; they were out about 150-180 feet...any longer than that and it's a ten minute work-out to reel in all the line. The area was fished out; but the weather is usually crappy on this side of the island, so there's not *that* many boats out where we were. The lures were sitting on top of the water, and they needed to be weighted down to be more attractive.

I don't know what it actually was, but on our last day out, after we had recovered an abandoned outrigger from an outrigger canoe so that no one else would hit it, we got a bite. When we fish, we just trundle along, as slow as we can. The fishermen are out on the fantail, with hand-held radio comms with the bridge. When a fish bites, the line zings out behind the ship, the fishermen jump up from their lounging positions and lunge for the rod. One of the other guys calls up to the bridge, "Fish on." As the fisherman straps on the fighting belt, the bridge pipes "Fish on" so the whole boat knows what's going on and stops the ship. Everybody piles out to the fantail from watching movies on the mess deck or reading in their rack to see all the excitement.

You can see the fish in the water in this photo...and all the guys on deck.

This was my first fish as CO, and it's been at least six years since my last fish call on a 110 (I didn't fish in the NAG...too scared we'd actually catch something). I wasn't really sure how to drive to help the fantail reel in their catch. The fantail did a good job of asking for what we needed, and I quickly realized that we just needed to keep the line tending aft, and not let the fish go under the ship...there's not quicker way to lose a fish than to have them snap it off on any of the underwater appendages.

Our fish was a fighter and jumped a few times. But EMC quickly reeled him in, and we had fresh mahimahi for dinner....fantabulous! FS2 baked some and sauted some more. I made ceviche the next day after a trip to the grocery store. It was a great afternoon.

We pulled into Honolulu the next day for a couple of days inport after being underway for four days straight. It kinda amuses me that I think four days underway is a lot now. MAUI would routinely be underway for 5 to 7 days, and on HAMILTON, we had one stint where we were underway for 42 days straight, with one brief stop for fuel and logistics...we got back underway the same day we pulled in. But, it's all a matter of perspective, and four days is good enough for now.

While we were out doing POTUS ops, I was busy writing my grad school application essays. Ok, really, I was going out of my mind and annoying everybody around me, writing my essays. My sister was a huge, grand, wonderful help. My first attempt, she told me, sounded like a high school student telling why she wanted to join the Honors Program...ouch. But she was right, and gave me some fantastic guidance on how to make it much better. (I was planning to post excerpts from it, but I'm at home and the essay is at work. Maybe later.) I'm happy with what I submitted, and now it's DONE! Whew, what a relief. Now I just have to sit back and wait for the acceptance letters to roll in :) Thanks again, Sis!

So after a couple of days inport, we got back underway for an escort, to protect national assets as they transit to/from port. I don't mind doing these escorts. I mean, yes, they require us to come to Honolulu a little more than I like, but actually doing the escorts doesn't bother me. I just got done at a unit that did something like the same thing for days and days at a time. The ones out here usually last only three to four hours. The one this past week tried me though. It was eight hours long, and we were at special sea detail for five and a half hours. In the same spot. We moved maybe three hundred yards in five hours. It's tough to keep people engaged for that long. And special sea details require nearly everybody on board. I think we had three people that weren't initially assigned jobs. After the first hour or so, we started rotating people through to get lunch and take a break. Most people just rotated positions though. And I decided that it's a good think that XO and I get along. Because it would really suck if we had to spend five and a half hours together if we annoyed each other.

We got through the escort, though, and went to moor at a mooring ball for the night. The next morning we had flight operations, training with Air Station Barber's Point. Flight ops went well, and we were off on our transit to Kauai. We fished the whole way; my only requirement was that we pull into port before it got dark, so we only had to make 9 knots to get there..."Down, down all lines; up, up all fish. Now Fish Call." But no luck.

We pulled into Nawiliwili, Kauai right at sunset. One of the other COs out here asked me why I was going to Kauai when I was so worried about bringing down my days away from homeport. I do want to bring down my days away from homeport, but not at the expense of knowing my operation area and taking advantage of being able to visit other islands. So we spent two days in Kauai.

Friday, a group of us went out to the northwest coast of the island for a hike. The Na Pali trail goes all the way to Kalalau Valley, an 11-mile hike that takes all day one way. We went out as far as Hanakapiai Beach, and then turned inland to Hanakapiai Falls. These are pictures along the trail to the beach. It was a glorious hike.

This is Hanakapiai Beach, where the trail splits to either continue on to Kalalau Valley, or goes inland to Hanakapiai falls.

And these are the falls. The pool at the base of the falls is icy cold; we figured about high 50s. Of course we all had to swim around in it. My skin burned after about 30 seconds in the water. It took me a good 20 minutes of the hike back to get warm to my bones again.

So you may be wondering, why, after all those beautiful pictures of Kauai, there's a picture of a metal grate at the end of this post. Well, the trip to Kauai ended rather morbidly than anyone expected. We were making preparations to get underway on Saturday afternoon, and one of the guys was disconnecting our potable water shore tie, underneath this grate. After he was done getting our hose back, he went to replace the grate, but it didn't sit right immediately, so he grabbed ahold to straighten it, and it fell into place with his fingers still wrapped around the edge. He lost his fingertips.

We had just done first aid training while we were underway for POTUS ops, so the first responders' actions were just about as good as they could have been. The ambulance was called, and he was whisked away to the hospital. He was in good spirits yesterday when saw him upon pulling in to Hilo.

Still, I hate it when people get hurt.

So, that's a wrap-up of the last couple of weeks. This took longer than I expected to post, so now I need to actually get myself to work.

Happy New Year from KISKA

It’s a long time nautical tradition that the smooth log midwatch entry for New Year’s Day be written in rhyme. I can take absolutely no credit for this piece of poetry; it was all XO.

A HUNDRED FEET OF WATERLINE, NICELY MAKING WAY INTO A NEW YEAR.

WHERE POTUS STAY? ALL WE KNOW IS HE STAY NEAR.

WE'RE IN POSITION XX-XX.X NORTH, XX-XX.X WEST;

SOMEONE LET THE PRESIDENT KNOW HE HAS CHOSEN THE BEST.

AS SN PASOQUEN RINGS IN A NEW DECADE

KISKA STANDS THE WATCH AS THE EAGLE'S BLOCKADE.

YOKE HAS BEEN SET AND ALL DOORS ARE CLOSED TIGHTLY;

OUR ELECTRICIAN HAS THE NAV LANTERNS ALL BURNING BRIGHTLY.

IN ALL HIS GENERATORS AND MAINS, CHIEF TARKER TAKES PRIDE,

BUT TONIGHT HE'S CHOSEN TO RUN ONLY THE NUMBER ONE SIDE.

SECTOR HONOLULU HAS ADMINISTRATIVE, TACTICAL, AND OPERATIONAL CONTROL;

WHILE EAST OF OAHU WE CARRY OUT A BRAVO-2 PATROL.

KIS-1 RESTS NEATLY IN HER CRADLE AND IS SECURED FOR SEA.

KAILUA'S FIREWORKS WOULD SURELY AWE EVEN FRANCIS SCOTT KEY.

BRIAN GORACKE HAS THE QMOW, FRANKIE GUERRERO THE DECK AND CONN;

LATER TODAY JAMIE RUSSELL PELTIER WILL PIN HIS ANCHORS ON.

I had the 2000-2400 watch last night. We’ve got a TAD guy from our sister cutter on board, helping XO and me out with our watches, so we’re back to four hour watches…thank goodness! We were steaming a couple of miles offshore, and had great seats for the fireworks displays from shore. The weather was great, though we did have a patch of storms roll through at about 9 pm. We had a full moon, peeking through the clouds. Fireworks started going off just as it was getting dark, and continued until a little after midnight. A lot of the fireworks from inland neighborhoods were blocked by hills and valleys, but we could see the reflection off the clouds overhead. I wasn’t sure where to watch, there were so many explosions over the whole coastline. It was a great way to welcome in the New Year.

Happy New Year, all! I hope this decade brings you peace and happiness in your lives.