It's day 5 of the trip. I'm in Redding, CA trying to get some computer work done. My smart phone is good, but sometimes a full size screen and harddrive is nice. Let me say...Redding, CA has a *super* nice library!
When I left my sister's house outside of LA, I had plans to get to Big Sur that night. Well, not so much. I stayed in Taft, CA, and continued on the next day. The weather has been very changeable, from stupid hot to bone-chilling cold. It's been cold on the coast and in the mornings in the shade in the mountains. I'll put in a shameless plug for Fox Creek Leather, the folks who made my jacket. Once I got all the zippers zipped up right and the liner in, my core stayed well, warmer. But my hands still froze.
Other observances in somewhat random order:
--I dropped my bike. Figured it had to happen sometime, and what better time than when there were friends around to help. I was trying to get it out of its covered parking at Treebones (another shameless plug, for a beautiful yurt camping spot on the Big Sur Coast) and didn't quite make it through the turn. It tipped on me. My friend Rickey and his friend Super Dave helped me get it up right. I think Rickey may have taken advantage of the situation to ride the bike for a second. But he got it back onto solid ground for me, and nothing, besides my oh-s0-fragile pride, was hurt.
--I got stung by a bee on my neck the second day out...Sorry for reposting a bit from Facebook, but I cussed the bee until I realized it wasn't his fault. I'm the one who ran into his butt at 60 mph. It's not like he was flying at 65 mph and ran into me.
--I left the key in the bike last night. I was parked in front of my hotel room in Weaverville, and came out this morning, patted my pockets and couldn't find the darn thing. My neighbor, who was with his wife, was working on his bike out front and told me I had left the keys in the bike last night. Guh! Shit! He very kindly had taken them out of the ignition and put them in the saddle bag so no one would be tempted. He replaced them in the ignition this morning so I could find them again. Ooooh, bikers are so big and mean and scary :)
--I laugh out loud everytime I catch sight of my shadow while riding. I've got two braids (my hair doesn't stay in one braid well enough), and my shadow looks like some crazy biker Pippy Longstockings, with the braids flying out behind me. Haa haha.
--Northern California is a beautiful place. Of course I had always heard that, but it really is amazing. If you'll indulge me in a moment of cosmic consideration, I was riding along in the fog and grey until I reached the Mendicino County line. I had traveled that area before, up to Petaluma and a little beyond...you know, riding down memory lane, especially on Hwy 1. But once I got to an area I hadn't been to yet, the fog cleared away and the sun came out. You think some crazy stuff after about four hours on the bike with no one to keep you company but yourself and the road.
--I renamed my bike. Rickey had asked me if I had named it, and I said yes, The Bitch. But then I decided that was a little too aggressive. I changed her name to Miss Daisy. You know, Driving Miss Daisy. I even drive like a granny :)
Alright, gotta get back on the road. At least to find a laundromat. And then, shooting for Lakeview, Oregon tonight.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Thursday, August 5, 2010
"Alright, Let's GAR It"
I'm officially starting my trip today, leaving from my sister's house outside of Pomona, CA enroute to a friend's place in Big Sur. The bike is all loaded (and looks kinda silly if you ask me...a Nightster was never meant to be a pack horse), I've got a box of stuff that I couldn't fit into my bags to be shipped to me once I get closer, and well, it's now or never. I've got three weeks to get to Maryland.Before nearly every evolution on KISKA and MAUI, we would always GAR it. Before Special Sea Detail, Small Boat Detail, boardings, flight ops, training and drills, pretty much anything. I always felt like we were tempting fate when we didn't do a GAR, so I was pretty judicious about skipping it.
So what is this GAR thing? I can give you a working-sailor's definition of it, though I know I've heard the background story of how it was developed during at least once TCT (Team Coordination Training) course. GAR stands for Green, Amber, Red and is used as a discussion method for risk analysis. There are seven components:
-Planning: How well is the evolution defined? Does the team know what the final objective is? Does the team know what contingencies they could face, and what their reactions should be?
-Supervision: Is there at least one person with the "big picture" of what's going on that can see that "error chain" before it gets too long? Is "Safety" that person's only responsibility, or are they multi-tasking? Are they distracted with guests, training evaluators/riders, etc?
-Crew Selection: Does the crew know what they're doing? How many are qualified at the task they are performing? Who is breaking in on what position? What's the crew's experience level?
-Crew Fitness: How well rested is everyone? Who had the mid-watch? Has the ride been smooth or rough enough to beat people up? Have the last few days been stupid busy or is everyone pretty sharp still?
-Event/Evolution Complexity: What is the length and severity of risk exposure for the evolution? Is it really risky, but a quick one; or not so risky, but an eight-and-a-half-hour escort, with five of those hours within restricted waters?
-Environment: What are the outside conditions like? Is there lots of traffic? How's visibility? Is it blazing hot, with the risk of dehydration and sunburn, or is it raining and people need their rain gear? How close is shoal water or other hazards to navigation? Is it whale season?
-Equipment: What equipment is broken or in questionable condition? Are we op-testing (operationally testing) something? How critical is that equipment to what we're doing? And don't forget to take into account the bridge equipment...it's not just engineering stuff.
The way I liked to GAR was to have everyone chime in with numbers, from 1 to 10, and if there was an especially high number or concerns about any issue, we'd discuss whatever the concern was as a group. BM2 Bueno always had that "10" in equipment in his pocket if we ever needed it. The numbers are added up once the discussion is over, and based on the sum, you determine your overall risk exposure. 1-25 is in the Green (low risk); 26-48 is in the Amber (moderate risk); 49-70 is in the Red (high risk). Just because something is in the Red doesn't mean we don't do it...we just look for ways to mitigate or reduce the risk; and just because something is in the Green doesn't mean we take things for granted and don't follow procedures.
Most of KISKA's evolutions were usually low Amber, though we did have a few Reds...like coming out of drydock after 5 months with a mostly new crew, or getting underway from Radio Bay with only one functional MDE for the tsunami evacuation, or entering port on one shaft with the other one locked due to a shaft vibration. We still did them, but carefully and with plenty of discussion.
A while back, I think it may have been when ADM Allen came out with the Guardian Ethos message, we were exhorted and encouraged to use GAR in our daily lives to be better shipmates on and off the job. So here's my GAR for this first day:
Planning: 5; I've looked at maps and I've got a decent idea of where I'm going, but I neglected to get anything to post on my tank to give me an easy reference for my next turn...I don't have easy access to an electronic navigation system. And I've thought about alot of different contingencies, and have tried to mitigate them as best I can. I'll be wearing my PPE (personal protective equipment=helmet, leather jacket, boots, gloves, sunglasses, sunscreen). I've op-tested most everything. I took a break-in ride down to visit a friend in Orange County. It was great to see BJ and Laura Miles (Beej is an OCS classmate), and he gave me a great recommendation for the route to Big Sur. I'll be camping at a friend's place tonight, and if I've forgotten some camping equipment, he should be able to help out. My next stop after that is in Alameda with another set of friends, and it'll be good to make sure everything is good before heading out with no certain destination for the day.
Supervision: 4; I've got someone (plenty of someones) who know when to expect me someplace. I'll post on FB when I get where I'm going. If I don't get there, my friend will call out the cavalry to start looking for me.
Crew Selection: 7; Umm, I only learned to ride a motorcycle in February. I feel like I know kinda what I'm doing, but I definitely don't have a lot of experience with it.
Crew Fitness: 4; I've not been sleeping all that well. And it's going to be a hard ride. My gawd, the suspension on that bike is not meant for touring long distances.
Event/Evolution Complexity: 7; today's ride is pretty long and I'm taking a rather circuitous route. And what's the worst that could happen? Well, it's not pretty.
Environment: 4; it may be sunny when I start out, but I was warned by my friend that it's been cold on the coast. Lots of twisty, curvy roads with plenny potholes.
Equipment: 4; the bike is in good shape, but it runs hot. And I've got all my gear on the bike now. I took it out for a quick test ride yesterday with everything on it, and I think it actually handles a little better with the extra weight. But the saddlebags ride a little high and bump the backs of my legs when I've got my feet on the ground; not intrusively so, but enough to know it's there.
If my math is right (always a point of contention), that adds up to 36, mid-Aamber. But that's ok. I've thought things through as best I can, mitigated what risks I can, and am aware of what I need to pay attention to for those things that I can't mitigate. I'd say it's an accurate reflection of my readiness.
Now I've got to get those last few things on the bike, in the bags. It always seems there are one or two things that "oh, I'll just cram that on top." But that has added up to five or six things now and I'm wondering if I actually will be able to fit it all.
One last thing...so many, many thanks to my family and friends for their support and encouragement. I know you guys are worried about me, and for that I'm really sorry to cause you anxiety. But you also are excited for me and see the grand adventure I'm on. A hui hou!
Monday, August 2, 2010
Oh. Emm. Gee.
I thought I knew what it was like to have things rather hectic, with a million things going on at once.
The last two and a half weeks taught me that I was WronG. With a capital "W." And "G." Now, this post is likely to sound kinda whiny, but it was all so very, very worth it. I just feel a little bad for my friends and family who had to deal with me as a stressed mess.
It all started, oh, I guess when we got back from our last patrol, so the middle of July. I had two and half days of being in Hilo to get things organized before my sister and her husband, Suketu, showed up in the first wave of visitors. They are truly wonderful people, easy to be with, and we had a great time. They got in on Friday evening, after riding the local bus, HeleOn from Kona to Hilo. I picked them up and we went to New Chiang Mai for dinner. On Saturday, we hung around Richardson's Beach Park in Hilo, after a Saturday morning yoga class and visit to the Hilo Farmer's Market. Sunday we visited the Volcano Farmer's Market (yes, Farmer's Markets are a theme for the two weeks), enroute to a snorkel session at Honaunau. It was a longish drive, but totally worth it.
Monday, I had to work. It was the first day of the relief week. Craig had gotten the relief binder on Thursday and had a chance to look at it, so the first day went pretty smoothly. Still pretty low stress at this point.
Tuesday, Craig and I flew to Honolulu to meet people on Sand Island. Still pretty low stress.
I knew Wednesday was likely to be a different story. Mom flew in at 12-noon; Aunt Linda and Uncle Adam flew in at 5 pm, and Uncle Steven and Aunt Jan flew in at 7 pm. Vicki and Suketu were going to pick up Mom, then stop by the office to get directions to the rental/vacation house in Kapoho, then they were going to head out that way to check the place out and call me if there was anything we needed to pick up. I was meeting Linda and Adam at the airport, taking them back to my Hilo house for a quick minute to pack up a few necessities, and then we were going to drive back to the airport to pick up Steve and Jan, and then caravan (I was on my motorcycle) down to the Kapoho house.
Whew!
But it didn't entirely work out like that.
Unbeknownst to me, Mom had a little surprise in store for me. She had made arrangements for my best friend, Amy, and her 9 year-old daughter, Ally, to come out for the COC. I've been after Amy to visit me in Hawaii since 2002, when I first got stationed here. She always had a good excuse (being not too fond of planes, especially when ticket prices were so high). But Mom had worked her Mom-magic, and convinced Amy and Ally to come.
Vicki walked into my office, I handed her the directions to the house, and then she asked me if I could come out to the car for a minute. Sure; I plopped my hat on my head, and strolled out the office door into a crowd of people just standing around. I recognized Mom and Suketu, but these other two blond strangers were so out of context that it took me a couple seconds to figure out that it was Amy and Ally. I'm not quite sure what I said, but I said it in a reeeeaaally high, squeaky voice, a pitch I'm certain none of my crew had ever heard from me before. Thank goodness there were only a few of them in the office at the time. Mom captured my surprise on her camera. Awesome, amazing, great, wonderful surprise.
I got through the rest of the afternoon and got everyone safely out to the house.
Thursday morning we got underway to conduct drills as part of the relief process. Most guests stayed out at the house for a leisurely morning to help overcome the jet lag from North Carolina. But Mom came in with me to take her ride on the ship. I'd been promising to take her out on the ship for, well, since I took command, and this was her last, absolute last opportunity. The weather wasn't great, but it wasn't totally snotty either, so I figured we'd be ok. SN Mike McKinstry's mother and brother were also in town, and they came along also.
We transited out of Radio Bay with XO driving, and we started the drills with an easy Man Overboard. BM2 Neal Bueno did a stellar job driving the ship to recover Oscar, and we deployed SN Ryan Andres as the rescue swimmer to bring Oscar back onboard...mostly becuase I didn't want to suffer through reproachful looks if I hadn't let him get into the water.
Unfortunately by this time, our guests weren't feeling too good, though they all hung in there like champs. So I reconsidered staying underway to conduct all the drills, and decided instead that we could get the same training/relief value doing the drills at the pier as we could underway. We launched and recovered the small boat, ate lunch (well, the crew ate lunch; the guests...not so much), and then headed back to the pier. I had planned to drive the ship to the pier for the last time, but felt bad that no one else had pulled into Radio Bay because I was being greedy. So XO drove us in.
It was only his second time seeing the transit and pier approach to Radio Bay, and he did a good job. I'm sure as he drives that transit more, he will become more and more confident with it. He did say that the backing-up part of it took some getting used to.
We finished up our drills at the pier, and by then Linda and Adam, Steve and Jan were waiting patiently at the office for their tour of the ship. They took lots of pictures (from left to right: Steve, Adam, me and Linda), asked lots of great questions, and were suitably impressed with how cool the ship is.
We all headed back home, after yet another stop at the grocery store.
Friday, whew Friday. I got up early, and headed in to meet my friend and Mom's neighbor, Auntie Jane at Ken's House of Pancakes for breakfast. Thank goodness I did, too, because I didn't get anything else to eat until the reception, around 4:30 that afternoon. Jane flew in for the COC, and so sweetly blogged about it on her own blog.
Fortified with a yummy breakfast, Jane ran me on a few errands that being on the motorcycle made difficult (I didn't think the fondant for the cakes would fare so well in my backpack during the ride from the grocery store to the bakery), and then dropped me off at Coconut Island where preps were already in progress.
Lots of back and forth between the office and the park, stressing over logs that weren't signed yet, and tying up a million details ate up most of the morning. Long about 1:30 pm, I went up to the changing room to put on the dress whites.
And at 2:15 pm (yea, the ceremony was supposed to start at 2:30 pm) I realized we were missing something...and sent 1/C Gookin on a mad dash back to the office for the flags! Yikes!
We started a little late.
One of my favorite parts of the ceremony was giving out lei to the crew. I know it's not totally traditional, but it just seemed like the right way to show my respect and admiration for them.
And the other favorite part of the ceremony was having it at Coconut Island. Since it was a Friday afternoon, there were lots of people in the park, just hanging out.
There were tons of pictures taken. This is one of the best, by far, of me, Mom and Vicki.
This one is of the family/friends crew that came from off island/far away. From left to right in the back row: Suketu, Vicki, Uncle Steve, Aunt Jan and Uncle Adam. Front row: Linda, Mom, me, Ally and Amy.
And this is of me and the ladies that work Security at the gate at the pier facility. It was sooo cool they could come.
Hanging out by the water with crew and friends.
And at the end of the evening, Ally and I prepared to jump off the rock into the harbor. Ally was brave enough to jump off the middle ledge.
That was Friday.
The rest of the time was a flurry of time spent with family and friends, until the movers showed up on Thursday, and then it was a flurry of minutaie. All I can say is, thank goodness that part of this whole thing is over. Just another reason why transfer season is no fun at all. I meant to write a post on why transfer season is so painful, but I never got to it. I also never got around to the post of KISKA crew's tattoos.
But now I'm in California, prepping for my ride across country. I will likely not be blogging much during the next three weeks...it will depend entirely on the availability of computers, so if I get to an internet cafe or a local public library, I might be able to get an update posted. I will be back to it, though. My daily GAR score for the ride will be on Facebook each morning, though :)
The last two and a half weeks taught me that I was WronG. With a capital "W." And "G." Now, this post is likely to sound kinda whiny, but it was all so very, very worth it. I just feel a little bad for my friends and family who had to deal with me as a stressed mess.
It all started, oh, I guess when we got back from our last patrol, so the middle of July. I had two and half days of being in Hilo to get things organized before my sister and her husband, Suketu, showed up in the first wave of visitors. They are truly wonderful people, easy to be with, and we had a great time. They got in on Friday evening, after riding the local bus, HeleOn from Kona to Hilo. I picked them up and we went to New Chiang Mai for dinner. On Saturday, we hung around Richardson's Beach Park in Hilo, after a Saturday morning yoga class and visit to the Hilo Farmer's Market. Sunday we visited the Volcano Farmer's Market (yes, Farmer's Markets are a theme for the two weeks), enroute to a snorkel session at Honaunau. It was a longish drive, but totally worth it.
Monday, I had to work. It was the first day of the relief week. Craig had gotten the relief binder on Thursday and had a chance to look at it, so the first day went pretty smoothly. Still pretty low stress at this point.
Tuesday, Craig and I flew to Honolulu to meet people on Sand Island. Still pretty low stress.
I knew Wednesday was likely to be a different story. Mom flew in at 12-noon; Aunt Linda and Uncle Adam flew in at 5 pm, and Uncle Steven and Aunt Jan flew in at 7 pm. Vicki and Suketu were going to pick up Mom, then stop by the office to get directions to the rental/vacation house in Kapoho, then they were going to head out that way to check the place out and call me if there was anything we needed to pick up. I was meeting Linda and Adam at the airport, taking them back to my Hilo house for a quick minute to pack up a few necessities, and then we were going to drive back to the airport to pick up Steve and Jan, and then caravan (I was on my motorcycle) down to the Kapoho house.
Whew!
But it didn't entirely work out like that.
Unbeknownst to me, Mom had a little surprise in store for me. She had made arrangements for my best friend, Amy, and her 9 year-old daughter, Ally, to come out for the COC. I've been after Amy to visit me in Hawaii since 2002, when I first got stationed here. She always had a good excuse (being not too fond of planes, especially when ticket prices were so high). But Mom had worked her Mom-magic, and convinced Amy and Ally to come.Vicki walked into my office, I handed her the directions to the house, and then she asked me if I could come out to the car for a minute. Sure; I plopped my hat on my head, and strolled out the office door into a crowd of people just standing around. I recognized Mom and Suketu, but these other two blond strangers were so out of context that it took me a couple seconds to figure out that it was Amy and Ally. I'm not quite sure what I said, but I said it in a reeeeaaally high, squeaky voice, a pitch I'm certain none of my crew had ever heard from me before. Thank goodness there were only a few of them in the office at the time. Mom captured my surprise on her camera. Awesome, amazing, great, wonderful surprise.
I got through the rest of the afternoon and got everyone safely out to the house.
Thursday morning we got underway to conduct drills as part of the relief process. Most guests stayed out at the house for a leisurely morning to help overcome the jet lag from North Carolina. But Mom came in with me to take her ride on the ship. I'd been promising to take her out on the ship for, well, since I took command, and this was her last, absolute last opportunity. The weather wasn't great, but it wasn't totally snotty either, so I figured we'd be ok. SN Mike McKinstry's mother and brother were also in town, and they came along also.
We transited out of Radio Bay with XO driving, and we started the drills with an easy Man Overboard. BM2 Neal Bueno did a stellar job driving the ship to recover Oscar, and we deployed SN Ryan Andres as the rescue swimmer to bring Oscar back onboard...mostly becuase I didn't want to suffer through reproachful looks if I hadn't let him get into the water.Unfortunately by this time, our guests weren't feeling too good, though they all hung in there like champs. So I reconsidered staying underway to conduct all the drills, and decided instead that we could get the same training/relief value doing the drills at the pier as we could underway. We launched and recovered the small boat, ate lunch (well, the crew ate lunch; the guests...not so much), and then headed back to the pier. I had planned to drive the ship to the pier for the last time, but felt bad that no one else had pulled into Radio Bay because I was being greedy. So XO drove us in.
It was only his second time seeing the transit and pier approach to Radio Bay, and he did a good job. I'm sure as he drives that transit more, he will become more and more confident with it. He did say that the backing-up part of it took some getting used to.
We finished up our drills at the pier, and by then Linda and Adam, Steve and Jan were waiting patiently at the office for their tour of the ship. They took lots of pictures (from left to right: Steve, Adam, me and Linda), asked lots of great questions, and were suitably impressed with how cool the ship is.We all headed back home, after yet another stop at the grocery store.
Friday, whew Friday. I got up early, and headed in to meet my friend and Mom's neighbor, Auntie Jane at Ken's House of Pancakes for breakfast. Thank goodness I did, too, because I didn't get anything else to eat until the reception, around 4:30 that afternoon. Jane flew in for the COC, and so sweetly blogged about it on her own blog.
Fortified with a yummy breakfast, Jane ran me on a few errands that being on the motorcycle made difficult (I didn't think the fondant for the cakes would fare so well in my backpack during the ride from the grocery store to the bakery), and then dropped me off at Coconut Island where preps were already in progress.
Lots of back and forth between the office and the park, stressing over logs that weren't signed yet, and tying up a million details ate up most of the morning. Long about 1:30 pm, I went up to the changing room to put on the dress whites.And at 2:15 pm (yea, the ceremony was supposed to start at 2:30 pm) I realized we were missing something...and sent 1/C Gookin on a mad dash back to the office for the flags! Yikes!
We started a little late.
One of my favorite parts of the ceremony was giving out lei to the crew. I know it's not totally traditional, but it just seemed like the right way to show my respect and admiration for them.
And the other favorite part of the ceremony was having it at Coconut Island. Since it was a Friday afternoon, there were lots of people in the park, just hanging out.
There were tons of pictures taken. This is one of the best, by far, of me, Mom and Vicki.
This one is of the family/friends crew that came from off island/far away. From left to right in the back row: Suketu, Vicki, Uncle Steve, Aunt Jan and Uncle Adam. Front row: Linda, Mom, me, Ally and Amy.
And this is of me and the ladies that work Security at the gate at the pier facility. It was sooo cool they could come.
Hanging out by the water with crew and friends.
And at the end of the evening, Ally and I prepared to jump off the rock into the harbor. Ally was brave enough to jump off the middle ledge.
That was Friday.
The rest of the time was a flurry of time spent with family and friends, until the movers showed up on Thursday, and then it was a flurry of minutaie. All I can say is, thank goodness that part of this whole thing is over. Just another reason why transfer season is no fun at all. I meant to write a post on why transfer season is so painful, but I never got to it. I also never got around to the post of KISKA crew's tattoos.
But now I'm in California, prepping for my ride across country. I will likely not be blogging much during the next three weeks...it will depend entirely on the availability of computers, so if I get to an internet cafe or a local public library, I might be able to get an update posted. I will be back to it, though. My daily GAR score for the ride will be on Facebook each morning, though :)
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Change of Command
Yesterday was KISKA's Change of Command. I'll write more and post photos over the next few days. But for now, here are my remarks from the ceremony.
CAPT Compagnoni, CAPT Brown, fellowCOs and OICs, Navy League members, community partners, compatriot Guardians and Auxiliarists, and most especially friends and family, welcome and thank you so much for attending today’s ceremony.
I’ll give the crew all the credit for the hard work that went into the achievements described in the award I just received. I couldn’t have done anything without their hard work, dedication, perseverance and understanding. It’s the foibles that I think I can take the credit for…here’s the real story behind the last year:
We had over forty CASREPs, including two Cat 4 CASREPs that kept the ship on the pier for a couple of weeks and one CASREP that has been open my entire time onboard, in one way or another.
We had ten mishaps, including two that were borderline Class Bravo mishaps. Guns, I hope you will forgive me for that trip toKauai . And the Hilo Medical Center
We caught three fish; one mahi mahi and two aku. We don’t talk (much) about the one that got away last patrol…SN McKinstry…
We had an $880 thousand drydock planned that turned into a $2.56 million drydock; and a $450 thousand dockside that grew to $540 thousand. If you like numbers, that’s a growth of nearly 50% in total maintenance costs.
But those *are* just the numbers, and don’t tell the whole story. They don’t tell about the misery of four drydock extensions, the frustration of pestiferous gremlins, especially hard-to-pinpoint shaft vibration gremlins that can ruin your day…or week…or COMDT visit, or the glorious feeling of an 8-hour, 25 knot transit from Honolulu to Hilo after drydock on flat calm seas, wide open on both mains, and an Alenuihaha channel that welcomed us home instead of making us earn our passage like we’ve had to do every transit since.
And I apparently didn’t truly know the meaning of “bittersweet” until the last two weeks. But I’m finding out that it is tears streaming down my face over what I’m leaving, while a grin splits my face over where I’m going…and how I’m getting there. I’m very excited about heading off to grad school for 18 months of studious endeavors, but it also means that I have to leaveHilo Big Island Hilo
What’s not to love? The operating area is stunningly gorgeous, though not always physically comfortable. Transiting through theMaui triangle during whale season, dodging curious humpback babies and having them breach fully out of the water 100 yards (or less) away is a stunning sight. Rainbows and Mauna Kea at sunrise, lava flows at sunset, and the poignant history of a transit through Pearl Harbor .
But then there was also the transit out to a SAR case about 50 nm off the Kona side. Seas were 12 to 15 feet and winds were gusting up to 40 knots. I think everybody got sick on that one.
The next great thing about this tour was working for Sector Honolulu. CAPT Compagnoni and CDR Cocanour, thank you so much for your inspirational leadership and outstanding understanding and guidance through some rough times onboard the ship. Who knew that KISKA’s drydock last year would turn into the five and a half month marathon with all its frustrating twists and complications? Three stunningly wearisome weeks to get the shafts aligned…if I didn’t like drydocks before (which I didn’t) I think last summer would have terminally soured my enthusiasm for them. But you were so sympathetic to what we were going through, while working your own exasperating situation with the other patrol boats’ maintenance requirements, as well as supporting the feedback we had for Surface Forces Logistic Command. That compassionate leadership helped to ease our struggle, knowing we had the backing of our command. And that support helped us to get our dockside in our homeport which was a huge bonus for us.
I know everyone says this at every change of command, but the absolute best part of this tour was the people I got to work with. There is no way to thank all the individuals that helped make this a successful tour for me. It was a team effort all the way.
But I would like to single out a few groups. If I forget someone or a group of someones, I apologize…it’s been a hectic few days.
Our support functions: I know it wasn’t always easy working with us. Outer island, in the hinterlands of theBig Island , not frequently in Honolulu
TheHilo
Friends and family: Linda and Adam, Steve and Jan, thank you for making the trek out here to join my party. For the crews’ families that are here: thank you for letting me sail with your husbands, sons, brothers and fathers; I know that you are what keeps these guys going when things get rough.
Mom, thank you for the middle of the night transmission fluid deliveries, the short-notice and random mail drops and the general enthusiasm for what I do. And for your love that gave you the inspiration to surprise me with Amy and Ally’s visit.
Amy, Anne (in abstentia) and Vicki, though not necessarily in that order, and each in very different ways, you guys kept my head on straight, provided valuable advice and sympathetic ears to numerous vent sessions. And V, in case you didn’t know, you are why I blog. The blog you kept inspired me to start my own when I went toBahrain
Now about this blog thing…I never intended for it to get this out of hand and be so well-received. But I am so grateful for all the positive feedback that I’ve gotten from it and even though it might not be quite so interesting once I leave KISKA, I mean how could it be? I’m going to try to keep up with it and continue to write about my Coast Guard experiences. Though, Rev, I hope one day, you will be able to live down the picture from the ropes course.
On to the hardest part of all of this, saying farewell to KISKA’s crew. I don’t think you guys will miss my impeccable timing for walking onto the messdeck right at the most embarrassing moment possible, or my whining about being port and starboard on watch for eight months, or badgering you during PT runs to keep breathing; but know that I will miss you, each and every one. You made this year more than I could have hoped for with your collective and individual senses of humor, your overwhelming dedication to mission excellence, your professionalism and your enthusiasm.
XO, thank you for your hard work over the last six weeks. I know you’ve been drinking from the fire hose, but you’ve chugged it with the best of them. Good luck with the rest of your tour onboard.
Chief Wong and EM1 Sammy, you and your ninjaneers have your work cut out for you. Hunting gremlins onboard KISKA will keep you busy, but I know you guys are the ones for the job.
Mr Gookin, I know you were only onboard for a short time, but your hard work really paid off in the quality of this ceremony. Thank you very much for taking care of the details for me and XO.
BM2 Bueno, thanks for all the Insanity workouts. ET2 Konyha, you’ve still got someone to talk NAG stories with. GM2 Stenzel, be careful with the aloe juice, and thanks for the inspiration for the cross-country motorcycle ride. What a great idea! FN Burns, good luck at A school. SN McKinstry and SN Andres, you guys will be great rescue swimmers…and at least that way SN McKinstry can get away from throwing heaving lines into HF antennas or flagstaffs.
And I know that these two guys aren’t here anymore, but I cannot not mention LT Frank Reed and MKC Greg Tarker. They were my XO and MKC respectively for most of my time onboard KISKA. I got emails from both of them yesterday, wishing me well today; the support and friendship they offered truly made this tour special. And they laughed at my jokes.
And Craig, I wish you the best of luck in your tour. I can say without hesitation or any bias at all, that you’re taking over the best boat in the Coast Guard. But you already know that. As I said to you earlier this week, one of the only good things about having to relinquish command of KISKA is who I’m being relieved by. You understand the beauty of theBig Island , the charm of Hilo
I’ve got to wrap this up, but I’m a little reluctant to do so, because I know what is coming up next. I won’t be CO of KISKA much beyond this next sentence, and I want to drag it out as long as possible. But I think I’ve talked long enough, and it’s someone else’s turn now. KISKA crew, aloha.
And then I forgot to read my orders. CAPT Compagnoni had to remind me to head back up to the podium...whoops! My sister just said she thought that was a rather Freudian slip.
CAPT Compagnoni, CAPT Brown, fellow
I’ll give the crew all the credit for the hard work that went into the achievements described in the award I just received. I couldn’t have done anything without their hard work, dedication, perseverance and understanding. It’s the foibles that I think I can take the credit for…here’s the real story behind the last year:
We had over forty CASREPs, including two Cat 4 CASREPs that kept the ship on the pier for a couple of weeks and one CASREP that has been open my entire time onboard, in one way or another.
We had ten mishaps, including two that were borderline Class Bravo mishaps. Guns, I hope you will forgive me for that trip to
We caught three fish; one mahi mahi and two aku. We don’t talk (much) about the one that got away last patrol…SN McKinstry…
We had an $880 thousand drydock planned that turned into a $2.56 million drydock; and a $450 thousand dockside that grew to $540 thousand. If you like numbers, that’s a growth of nearly 50% in total maintenance costs.
But those *are* just the numbers, and don’t tell the whole story. They don’t tell about the misery of four drydock extensions, the frustration of pestiferous gremlins, especially hard-to-pinpoint shaft vibration gremlins that can ruin your day…or week…or COMDT visit, or the glorious feeling of an 8-hour, 25 knot transit from Honolulu to Hilo after drydock on flat calm seas, wide open on both mains, and an Alenuihaha channel that welcomed us home instead of making us earn our passage like we’ve had to do every transit since.
And I apparently didn’t truly know the meaning of “bittersweet” until the last two weeks. But I’m finding out that it is tears streaming down my face over what I’m leaving, while a grin splits my face over where I’m going…and how I’m getting there. I’m very excited about heading off to grad school for 18 months of studious endeavors, but it also means that I have to leave
What’s not to love? The operating area is stunningly gorgeous, though not always physically comfortable. Transiting through the
But then there was also the transit out to a SAR case about 50 nm off the Kona side. Seas were 12 to 15 feet and winds were gusting up to 40 knots. I think everybody got sick on that one.
The next great thing about this tour was working for Sector Honolulu. CAPT Compagnoni and CDR Cocanour, thank you so much for your inspirational leadership and outstanding understanding and guidance through some rough times onboard the ship. Who knew that KISKA’s drydock last year would turn into the five and a half month marathon with all its frustrating twists and complications? Three stunningly wearisome weeks to get the shafts aligned…if I didn’t like drydocks before (which I didn’t) I think last summer would have terminally soured my enthusiasm for them. But you were so sympathetic to what we were going through, while working your own exasperating situation with the other patrol boats’ maintenance requirements, as well as supporting the feedback we had for Surface Forces Logistic Command. That compassionate leadership helped to ease our struggle, knowing we had the backing of our command. And that support helped us to get our dockside in our homeport which was a huge bonus for us.
I know everyone says this at every change of command, but the absolute best part of this tour was the people I got to work with. There is no way to thank all the individuals that helped make this a successful tour for me. It was a team effort all the way.
But I would like to single out a few groups. If I forget someone or a group of someones, I apologize…it’s been a hectic few days.
Our support functions: I know it wasn’t always easy working with us. Outer island, in the hinterlands of the
The
Friends and family: Linda and Adam, Steve and Jan, thank you for making the trek out here to join my party. For the crews’ families that are here: thank you for letting me sail with your husbands, sons, brothers and fathers; I know that you are what keeps these guys going when things get rough.
Mom, thank you for the middle of the night transmission fluid deliveries, the short-notice and random mail drops and the general enthusiasm for what I do. And for your love that gave you the inspiration to surprise me with Amy and Ally’s visit.
Amy, Anne (in abstentia) and Vicki, though not necessarily in that order, and each in very different ways, you guys kept my head on straight, provided valuable advice and sympathetic ears to numerous vent sessions. And V, in case you didn’t know, you are why I blog. The blog you kept inspired me to start my own when I went to
Now about this blog thing…I never intended for it to get this out of hand and be so well-received. But I am so grateful for all the positive feedback that I’ve gotten from it and even though it might not be quite so interesting once I leave KISKA, I mean how could it be? I’m going to try to keep up with it and continue to write about my Coast Guard experiences. Though, Rev, I hope one day, you will be able to live down the picture from the ropes course.
On to the hardest part of all of this, saying farewell to KISKA’s crew. I don’t think you guys will miss my impeccable timing for walking onto the messdeck right at the most embarrassing moment possible, or my whining about being port and starboard on watch for eight months, or badgering you during PT runs to keep breathing; but know that I will miss you, each and every one. You made this year more than I could have hoped for with your collective and individual senses of humor, your overwhelming dedication to mission excellence, your professionalism and your enthusiasm.
XO, thank you for your hard work over the last six weeks. I know you’ve been drinking from the fire hose, but you’ve chugged it with the best of them. Good luck with the rest of your tour onboard.
Chief Wong and EM1 Sammy, you and your ninjaneers have your work cut out for you. Hunting gremlins onboard KISKA will keep you busy, but I know you guys are the ones for the job.
Mr Gookin, I know you were only onboard for a short time, but your hard work really paid off in the quality of this ceremony. Thank you very much for taking care of the details for me and XO.
BM2 Bueno, thanks for all the Insanity workouts. ET2 Konyha, you’ve still got someone to talk NAG stories with. GM2 Stenzel, be careful with the aloe juice, and thanks for the inspiration for the cross-country motorcycle ride. What a great idea! FN Burns, good luck at A school. SN McKinstry and SN Andres, you guys will be great rescue swimmers…and at least that way SN McKinstry can get away from throwing heaving lines into HF antennas or flagstaffs.
And I know that these two guys aren’t here anymore, but I cannot not mention LT Frank Reed and MKC Greg Tarker. They were my XO and MKC respectively for most of my time onboard KISKA. I got emails from both of them yesterday, wishing me well today; the support and friendship they offered truly made this tour special. And they laughed at my jokes.
And Craig, I wish you the best of luck in your tour. I can say without hesitation or any bias at all, that you’re taking over the best boat in the Coast Guard. But you already know that. As I said to you earlier this week, one of the only good things about having to relinquish command of KISKA is who I’m being relieved by. You understand the beauty of the
I’ve got to wrap this up, but I’m a little reluctant to do so, because I know what is coming up next. I won’t be CO of KISKA much beyond this next sentence, and I want to drag it out as long as possible. But I think I’ve talked long enough, and it’s someone else’s turn now. KISKA crew, aloha.
And then I forgot to read my orders. CAPT Compagnoni had to remind me to head back up to the podium...whoops! My sister just said she thought that was a rather Freudian slip.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Sea Time
It's my last night underway on KISKA. It's my last night underway on anything for a long time, at least four years. I got a little sentimental making my last radio call to Aloha Tower requesting permission to depart Honolulu Harbor, but I maintained until I went out to watch the last rays of the sun set while a sliver of the moon twinkled over Oahu.I leaked a tear or two. I know I'll be back...or I hope I'll be back anyway. One thing I've learned from my time underway in the Coast Guard is that nothing is certain until it actually happens. Who knows where the next four years will take me...I can only hope I maintain a steady course to find my way back to sea.
I'll leave KISKA with seven years, five months and one day of sea time. I was trying to figure what that actually meant for time at sea: a very rough guess puts it somewhere around 800 days, or just over two years. The rest of the time I was stationed on a ship, but we were moored up somewhere. Just over two years. It seems much, much longer, and not quite near enough.
One question I'd like to answer for myself while I'm at grad school and have the time and opportunity to ponder such things is what I get out of being underway?...why do I do it?
I mean, describing what we do, it seems insane that anyone would willingly subject themselves to being underway...away from family and loved ones, stuck together with a bunch of people you may not even always like (though that is *definitely* not the case with KISKA's crew), stuffed into small living quarters with little choice in how you live, what you eat, when you wake up, even down to how you stand (on the bridge, always facing forward unless you're actively working at the chart table). In rough weather, getting the snot knocked out of you, feeling queasy and sometimes scared shitless because it feels like the boat is going to break up around you (BOUTWELL ALPAT, Spring 2001...70 kt sustained winds, gusting to 80 kts and 48 foot waves with the occasional 55-60 footer). Breathing diesel exhaust, getting whiffs of grey water and sewage, battered, bruised and always, always tired. Sleeping on a rock of a mattress, with weird noises waking you up throughout the night...good gawd, why on earth do I do this?!
But even with all that, I love it. I can't imagine not having done it, and not being able to do it again. When did the salt water get in my veins? I'm Just a Farm Girl, for heaven's sake!
My initial thoughts on why I love to be underway include ridiculously poetic combinations of words: sailing on the currents of destiny, being caught in the wake of history, riding the crest of possibility and the sinking into the trough of reality.Maybe they're just ridiculous combinations of words.
I doubt I'll sleep much tonight. I'll be taking phone calls all night long...we've already passed four tugs with barges and we're not even past Molokai yet. I don't guess the phone calls are really why I won't sleep; I won't sleep because I might miss some time underway.
Friday, July 9, 2010
Double Whammy
I am frustrated. Frustrated and annoyed. Frustrated, annoyed and feeling helpless. There are two projects/issues/things that we’re dealing with today that have just about sent me over the edge. We’ve tried to do the right thing with both issues, asked for help, submitted emails, made phone calls, and I still feel like we got totally punked on both of them. And neither one alone would have gotten to me so badly, but the two of them together, one on top of the other have left me feeling like beating my head against a brick wall might just be less painful.
In order to gain compliance with federal regulations on spending taxpayer money, the Coast Guard and DHS have taken very aggressive steps to ensure every cent is accounted for and not misused. With the new regulations, we have two weeks to verify and certify credit card purchases made by the ship’s card holders in a process online before our accounts are disabled. And if even one card is not verified/certified within the given timeframe, all cards for that unit are disabled. Normally, this is totally do-able, even for an underway or otherwise operational unit. Ships that don’t have internet connectivity underway usually pull in and have a shoretie connection at some point during the two-week period, and there’s a tprocess in place to verify/certify hard copies as well.
But somehow, through what I can only call a conflagration of events, we were not able to verify and certify all our credit card purchases for June. Some of those events include: XO’s computer profile too more than three weeks to get moved from his previous ship, which was underway, to our ship, which was also underway for some of that time; XO went to PCO/PXO school after his report date (not so much a “pipeline” school) and was physically gone from the unit for two weeks; card holders’ PCA (Purchase Card Application) accounts were disabled and despite numerous emails to the helpdesk, were unable to be reactivated in time; and oh yeah, we were underway for more than 270 hours during the critical two-week period.
We didn’t find out our credit cards were disabled until yesterday evening. We sent FS2 Greg Loya (newly reported from CGC POLAR SEA) and ET2 Konyha in by small boat to do some grocery shopping while the stores were still open and we were finishing up some night-time training. They were going to meet us on the pier with stores so we’d be all full up on food in case we got recalled. So there they were, at the NEX with $800 worth of groceries on the counter and the card didn’t work.
Start pulling hair out…now.
Thankfully the folks at the NEX were very understanding (apparently, not the first time this has happened to them) and just put our stuff to the side so we could pick it up in the morning once we figured out how to pay for it. And the first thing this morning, XO and BM1 North went over to BSU Supply to figure out how to fix the mess with the credit cards. SCKS Lindsay was very helpful in getting a few ancillary issues straightened out, and tried to get our cards reactivated. Unfortunately, the only way to get the cards reactivated is to go through and make sure the previous purchases were verified and certified. There was about a five minute period while we were all in SKCS’s office when FINCEN’s website was down and we couldn’t even access the program for verifying and certifying. I felt like we were in a black-hole of hopelessness for those five minutes…we couldn’t use our cards until they were verified/certified, but we couldn’t verify/certify the cards because the website was down.
Keep pulling out hair until completely bald.
The website was only down for a few minutes, and XO and BM1 North are down below busily verifying and certifying as I type. Unfortunately some of the receipts are back at the office…and we are not. We’ll get there.
The other happenstance that has me frustrated today has to do with an Inspection we went through in December. My understanding of the process of Inspections is as follows:
--Inspection is scheduled, usually with a pretty good lead time, about 6-8 weeks.
--Unit reviews checklist associated with Inspection prior to arrival of Inspection Team, so that the command has some idea of how the Inspection is going to go.
--Inspection Team arrives and conducts Inspection using checklists (the same ones that have already been reviewed by the unit, usually with some minor updates, but basically the same).
--Inspection Team sends a formal report back to the unit detailing the discrepancies and dictating a timeframe for reporting back actions taken to correct.
--Unit corrects discrepancies and sends report back to Inspection Team saying what they’ve done.
It’s pretty much the same for all Inspections (FSAT, RFO, OTI, LEAF, KSE and V—don’t worry what they stand for…I’m kinda just showing off acronyms a little); really the only thing that changes is the particulars of what is being inspected and who runs the Inspection Team. It’s not a mystery and the whole point of Inspections anyway is to improve the process for the unit. I’m all *about* process improvement…if you hadn’t gotten a feel for that yet ;). And I don’t take Inspections personally. The Inspection Teams have a job to do, which is to make us better.
So we had this Inspection back in December. The Inspection Team had left us a rough draft of his checklists so we could start working to fix things, with a promise of getting us the official version “shortly.”
Long about March, I sent an email asking where the report was. I mean, 90 days is pretty reasonable for expecting a response back.
Long about April, I called asking where the report was.
Long about May, I got a call from the Inspection Team letting us know that we had failed the inspection, the report was forthcoming and we should expect a re-inspection within a few months. Roger…I knew there were problems from the rough copy of the checklists he left us; most of it was administrative in nature, and most of it had already been corrected. So, no freak-out from me. Just a little bit of annoyance that it was nearly six months later and we were just now to this point.
Long about today, I received the hard-copy, official report back, via the hands of my Sector Commander, with big, bold letters “UNSATISFACTORY” the most prominent word on the page. And even though I knew that was coming, it still stung a little, especially when I had to answer directly and immediately to the Sector Commander about why we were coming across as dirt-bags.
I think what annoys me the most about this scenario is that I have been asking, and asking, and asking for this report, willing and able to rectify the problems. But I hadn’t gotten anything back from the Inspection Team for seven, nearly eight months! And the report I did get today was signed 2 Jun 10. What on earth took it another month to get to me after it was signed? It wasn’t even a scanned copy…just a printed out, electronic //s// signature. The letter was “TO” KISKA, but I got it via Sector? A month later? I just don’t get it.
It’s tough to work hard at doing something well, at trying constantly to make sure you’re on top of things and then have that hard work completely undercut by circumstances. I know we did all we could to make these two things right. And that’s the bit of encouragement I offer to the guys who spent the day trying to fix this stuff…we did all we could do. The fact that sometimes it’s not enough…well, that happens too.
And then I think about all the people who are working so hard down in the Gulf of Mexico at what seems like such a heart-breaking situation, and the friends and families of CG6017, who will never see their loved ones again…and I tell myself to quit whining, and get back to work.
In order to gain compliance with federal regulations on spending taxpayer money, the Coast Guard and DHS have taken very aggressive steps to ensure every cent is accounted for and not misused. With the new regulations, we have two weeks to verify and certify credit card purchases made by the ship’s card holders in a process online before our accounts are disabled. And if even one card is not verified/certified within the given timeframe, all cards for that unit are disabled. Normally, this is totally do-able, even for an underway or otherwise operational unit. Ships that don’t have internet connectivity underway usually pull in and have a shoretie connection at some point during the two-week period, and there’s a tprocess in place to verify/certify hard copies as well.
But somehow, through what I can only call a conflagration of events, we were not able to verify and certify all our credit card purchases for June. Some of those events include: XO’s computer profile too more than three weeks to get moved from his previous ship, which was underway, to our ship, which was also underway for some of that time; XO went to PCO/PXO school after his report date (not so much a “pipeline” school) and was physically gone from the unit for two weeks; card holders’ PCA (Purchase Card Application) accounts were disabled and despite numerous emails to the helpdesk, were unable to be reactivated in time; and oh yeah, we were underway for more than 270 hours during the critical two-week period.
We didn’t find out our credit cards were disabled until yesterday evening. We sent FS2 Greg Loya (newly reported from CGC POLAR SEA) and ET2 Konyha in by small boat to do some grocery shopping while the stores were still open and we were finishing up some night-time training. They were going to meet us on the pier with stores so we’d be all full up on food in case we got recalled. So there they were, at the NEX with $800 worth of groceries on the counter and the card didn’t work.
Start pulling hair out…now.
Thankfully the folks at the NEX were very understanding (apparently, not the first time this has happened to them) and just put our stuff to the side so we could pick it up in the morning once we figured out how to pay for it. And the first thing this morning, XO and BM1 North went over to BSU Supply to figure out how to fix the mess with the credit cards. SCKS Lindsay was very helpful in getting a few ancillary issues straightened out, and tried to get our cards reactivated. Unfortunately, the only way to get the cards reactivated is to go through and make sure the previous purchases were verified and certified. There was about a five minute period while we were all in SKCS’s office when FINCEN’s website was down and we couldn’t even access the program for verifying and certifying. I felt like we were in a black-hole of hopelessness for those five minutes…we couldn’t use our cards until they were verified/certified, but we couldn’t verify/certify the cards because the website was down.
Keep pulling out hair until completely bald.
The website was only down for a few minutes, and XO and BM1 North are down below busily verifying and certifying as I type. Unfortunately some of the receipts are back at the office…and we are not. We’ll get there.
The other happenstance that has me frustrated today has to do with an Inspection we went through in December. My understanding of the process of Inspections is as follows:
--Inspection is scheduled, usually with a pretty good lead time, about 6-8 weeks.
--Unit reviews checklist associated with Inspection prior to arrival of Inspection Team, so that the command has some idea of how the Inspection is going to go.
--Inspection Team arrives and conducts Inspection using checklists (the same ones that have already been reviewed by the unit, usually with some minor updates, but basically the same).
--Inspection Team sends a formal report back to the unit detailing the discrepancies and dictating a timeframe for reporting back actions taken to correct.
--Unit corrects discrepancies and sends report back to Inspection Team saying what they’ve done.
It’s pretty much the same for all Inspections (FSAT, RFO, OTI, LEAF, KSE and V—don’t worry what they stand for…I’m kinda just showing off acronyms a little); really the only thing that changes is the particulars of what is being inspected and who runs the Inspection Team. It’s not a mystery and the whole point of Inspections anyway is to improve the process for the unit. I’m all *about* process improvement…if you hadn’t gotten a feel for that yet ;). And I don’t take Inspections personally. The Inspection Teams have a job to do, which is to make us better.
So we had this Inspection back in December. The Inspection Team had left us a rough draft of his checklists so we could start working to fix things, with a promise of getting us the official version “shortly.”
Long about March, I sent an email asking where the report was. I mean, 90 days is pretty reasonable for expecting a response back.
Long about April, I called asking where the report was.
Long about May, I got a call from the Inspection Team letting us know that we had failed the inspection, the report was forthcoming and we should expect a re-inspection within a few months. Roger…I knew there were problems from the rough copy of the checklists he left us; most of it was administrative in nature, and most of it had already been corrected. So, no freak-out from me. Just a little bit of annoyance that it was nearly six months later and we were just now to this point.
Long about today, I received the hard-copy, official report back, via the hands of my Sector Commander, with big, bold letters “UNSATISFACTORY” the most prominent word on the page. And even though I knew that was coming, it still stung a little, especially when I had to answer directly and immediately to the Sector Commander about why we were coming across as dirt-bags.
I think what annoys me the most about this scenario is that I have been asking, and asking, and asking for this report, willing and able to rectify the problems. But I hadn’t gotten anything back from the Inspection Team for seven, nearly eight months! And the report I did get today was signed 2 Jun 10. What on earth took it another month to get to me after it was signed? It wasn’t even a scanned copy…just a printed out, electronic //s// signature. The letter was “TO” KISKA, but I got it via Sector? A month later? I just don’t get it.
It’s tough to work hard at doing something well, at trying constantly to make sure you’re on top of things and then have that hard work completely undercut by circumstances. I know we did all we could to make these two things right. And that’s the bit of encouragement I offer to the guys who spent the day trying to fix this stuff…we did all we could do. The fact that sometimes it’s not enough…well, that happens too.
And then I think about all the people who are working so hard down in the Gulf of Mexico at what seems like such a heart-breaking situation, and the friends and families of CG6017, who will never see their loved ones again…and I tell myself to quit whining, and get back to work.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
My Process
A disclaimer before I start this post: I don't know anything more about OERs than the next O...never had any special training, no inside knowledge, nada. This is just my opinion and some insights I've picked up along the way. Anyone out there from OPM, selection panels, promotion boards, whatever, is welcome to chime in if I get it wrong. Or even if I only get it partly right.
Now with that out of the way...one of the *BEST* things about making O3 is that the evaluation period goes from every six months as a LTJG to every year as a LT. It's great!! only having to write input for an Officer Evaluation Report (OER) once a year. Like amazing great. But it still comes around, and because I'm departing soon, my OER input was recently due, which was the inspiration for this post. Since it was only a couple months from the end of the regular marking period (end of May for O3s) to my departure, and since my next unit is grad school (where my OER is my report card!! Reason #84 why grad school is gonna be awesome!), I was able to delay my OER to align with my departure.
The one downfall to annual reviews is that you've got to remember what you did 12 months (or in this case 14 months) ago in order to include it. Do you remember what you did a year ago? I vaguely remember being on Oahu, whining about drydock, not knowing that we were going to get extended another three times and have fits with the alignment. And there's a lot that's happened since then.
But I've been an O3 since 2004, so I've got my process for remembering. I've got a process for the entire...process (hmmm, gotta work on those synonyms; the "Thesaurus" function on Word is definitely my friend when writing input). My process for approaching my OER starts with three pages of scrap paper, old emails from the deleted file and sent file, and my calendar. On the scrap paper, I write the titles of the performance dimensions (Using Resources, Teamwork, Professional Presence, etc) and then go through all the old emails and calendar information and scribble any significant events or projects in the relevant performance dimension. I'm able to count numbers of events this way...KISKA transited restricted waters more than 140 times since Oct 2009 by my count.
It is tough sometimes to decide where something goes. Are those 140 transits Professional Competence (good shipdriving), Directing Others (giving commands to focs'le and fantail) or Teamwork (getting all the parts working together)? Or is the request for additional messing funds for the crew Initiative or Looking Out for Others? If something doubles up, I'll usually write it in both spots, and then work out later which element needs more beefing up especially if it's a particularly important tidbit.
So that's Day 1...or how I spent Wednesday this past week. It was actually kinda multi-tasking this time around. I found a lot of good stuff to include in the Change of Command binder that 1/C Gookin is putting together.
Day 2 was actually writing the input. I usually like to take two days for this part, but I procrastinated (something about being underway makes it tough to focus on writing OER input, go figure), so I only had Thursday. But three bullets per performance dimension, as impactful as possible (huh, I guess "impactful" isn't a word...it's got a squiggly red line under it as I'm drafting this post). Now ever since I wrote my first OER input, I was always told, "Don't just say what you did, tell what was so important about what you did; what was the impact?" I never really got what that meant until I tried to write an OER for someone else. You can put all kinds of data into an OER, lots of numbers and describe lots of effort, but if all that effort was just effort, with no results, it was just hot air. Writing OERs for the JOs on HAMILTON helped to make my own OER input so much better.
I'll never forget my first OER-writing experience. I had been onboard HAMILTON as OPS for about two months. I was off at Tactical Action Officer (TAO) school, and had to write 6 regular ENS and 1 departing LTJG OERs. Oh. my. gawd. What a horrible experience. When I left the ship for TAO school I forgot to take my own OER folder with me, and had to write them all from scratch. It was painful. Thankfully TAO school wasn't all that challenging, and I had plenty of time to dedicate while I was there to churn out the OERs. I remember a lot of emails back and forth to the JOs asking piddly little questions, details about such and such an operation to help me find just the right words to use to properly capture their performance. By the second round of OERs I had to write, it was a lot easier (and I had my own OER folder as well as the first set from which to plagiarize). I wrote more than 25 OERs while I was onboard the HAM-bone.
I like to think big picture...like really big picture when I write my input. Sometimes it sounds over-blown and seems kinda silly and almost painful to brag about myself so ridiculously.
From last year's input for Results/Effectiveness: "Completed eight NAG (Northern Arabian Gulf) patrols and one TSC (Theatre Support Cooperation) event, totaling >XXXX hrs underway, >120,000 nm transited, 80 moorings/unmoorings, 32 security sweeps, 8 querries, 8 special operations, 7 training exercises; supported coalition goals of regional stability, transition to Iraqi control, intelligence collection against international terrorism organizations (ITO) and destabilizing forces in the region."
See, all the nice descriptive numbers at the beginning, and then the save the world stuff that puts the numbers into context. I think of it as a suspension of reality...the reality is that I'm Just a Girl Doing My Job, the suspension is that I'm doing a Really Important Job that Makes a Difference.
I forgot to mention a very important step before I start Day 2. I read the relevant Promotion Year's Commandant's Guidance to Boards and Panels. Not that I expect to have my OER write itself by reading this document, but it helps me find some good, powerful verbiage. This year I found myself relating a lot more of what I did to being innovative and adaptable, able to consider different solutions to problems, based on what was in the Guidance. It helps to frame the discussion.
I admit to liking to show off my vocabulary in my input. Using big words and finding nearly poetic turns of phrase helps me find something enjoyable about writing it...I mean, how can I not like writing something like: "Spearheaded CO/OIC ownership of WPB schedule." Mercurial, heuristic, systemic, debilitating, contentious, imbued all make me smile.
Day 2 is a grind-stone kind of day. But if it's done well, the OER writer should just be able to cut and paste some of the bullets into the comments blocks. Which is what I found myself doing on Day 3.
I learned something really important on Day 3 this year. I had planned to cut and paste a lot of what I put in XO's OER straight into mine. I figured, sure he did most of the grunt work, but I'm the one who told him to do it, so I get credit for it. But then I realized the difference between the CO's and XO's jobs. What I did this year was long-term, strategic type stuff; XO did the more tactical execution of it. I don't know why that was such a revelation, but it was. And it made it so that I couldn't cut and paste on Day 3.
Day 3 is the writing of the comments. Seven blocks (yes, I'm including Description of Duties), all very tightly proscribed by length. It's almost a game to get the stuff to fit...rearranging lists to make sure there's no white space at the end of the line, using abbreviations that still make sense ("ID’d & implemented long term sol’ns for reducing units' environmental footprint & save CG $$"), strategically spaced hyphenated words, deciding what is important enough from the input to include in limited space. I think that's why I actually prefer to provide a recommended version of the actual OER to my supervisor...it allows me to tell them what I did that I thought was important.
I got my input in on time last week. Or well, almost...I didn't account for an early weekend on Friday afternoon in anticipation of the holiday, so I had to call my Supervisor to let him know that it wouldn't be there by 1100. But he'd be sure to have it by 1500. I think I emailed it off at 1445. So, almost on time. And then I realized just yesterday that I forgot to put a couple of important incidents in...like that guest post I wrote for the COMDT's blog, and that whole debacle about that gunshoot we did. Oh well, there's a bunch of other good stuff in there. Maybe no one will notice. And thank goodness it's done for this year!
Now with that out of the way...one of the *BEST* things about making O3 is that the evaluation period goes from every six months as a LTJG to every year as a LT. It's great!! only having to write input for an Officer Evaluation Report (OER) once a year. Like amazing great. But it still comes around, and because I'm departing soon, my OER input was recently due, which was the inspiration for this post. Since it was only a couple months from the end of the regular marking period (end of May for O3s) to my departure, and since my next unit is grad school (where my OER is my report card!! Reason #84 why grad school is gonna be awesome!), I was able to delay my OER to align with my departure.
The one downfall to annual reviews is that you've got to remember what you did 12 months (or in this case 14 months) ago in order to include it. Do you remember what you did a year ago? I vaguely remember being on Oahu, whining about drydock, not knowing that we were going to get extended another three times and have fits with the alignment. And there's a lot that's happened since then.
But I've been an O3 since 2004, so I've got my process for remembering. I've got a process for the entire...process (hmmm, gotta work on those synonyms; the "Thesaurus" function on Word is definitely my friend when writing input). My process for approaching my OER starts with three pages of scrap paper, old emails from the deleted file and sent file, and my calendar. On the scrap paper, I write the titles of the performance dimensions (Using Resources, Teamwork, Professional Presence, etc) and then go through all the old emails and calendar information and scribble any significant events or projects in the relevant performance dimension. I'm able to count numbers of events this way...KISKA transited restricted waters more than 140 times since Oct 2009 by my count.
It is tough sometimes to decide where something goes. Are those 140 transits Professional Competence (good shipdriving), Directing Others (giving commands to focs'le and fantail) or Teamwork (getting all the parts working together)? Or is the request for additional messing funds for the crew Initiative or Looking Out for Others? If something doubles up, I'll usually write it in both spots, and then work out later which element needs more beefing up especially if it's a particularly important tidbit.
So that's Day 1...or how I spent Wednesday this past week. It was actually kinda multi-tasking this time around. I found a lot of good stuff to include in the Change of Command binder that 1/C Gookin is putting together.
Day 2 was actually writing the input. I usually like to take two days for this part, but I procrastinated (something about being underway makes it tough to focus on writing OER input, go figure), so I only had Thursday. But three bullets per performance dimension, as impactful as possible (huh, I guess "impactful" isn't a word...it's got a squiggly red line under it as I'm drafting this post). Now ever since I wrote my first OER input, I was always told, "Don't just say what you did, tell what was so important about what you did; what was the impact?" I never really got what that meant until I tried to write an OER for someone else. You can put all kinds of data into an OER, lots of numbers and describe lots of effort, but if all that effort was just effort, with no results, it was just hot air. Writing OERs for the JOs on HAMILTON helped to make my own OER input so much better.
I'll never forget my first OER-writing experience. I had been onboard HAMILTON as OPS for about two months. I was off at Tactical Action Officer (TAO) school, and had to write 6 regular ENS and 1 departing LTJG OERs. Oh. my. gawd. What a horrible experience. When I left the ship for TAO school I forgot to take my own OER folder with me, and had to write them all from scratch. It was painful. Thankfully TAO school wasn't all that challenging, and I had plenty of time to dedicate while I was there to churn out the OERs. I remember a lot of emails back and forth to the JOs asking piddly little questions, details about such and such an operation to help me find just the right words to use to properly capture their performance. By the second round of OERs I had to write, it was a lot easier (and I had my own OER folder as well as the first set from which to plagiarize). I wrote more than 25 OERs while I was onboard the HAM-bone.
I like to think big picture...like really big picture when I write my input. Sometimes it sounds over-blown and seems kinda silly and almost painful to brag about myself so ridiculously.
From last year's input for Results/Effectiveness: "Completed eight NAG (Northern Arabian Gulf) patrols and one TSC (Theatre Support Cooperation) event, totaling >XXXX hrs underway, >120,000 nm transited, 80 moorings/unmoorings, 32 security sweeps, 8 querries, 8 special operations, 7 training exercises; supported coalition goals of regional stability, transition to Iraqi control, intelligence collection against international terrorism organizations (ITO) and destabilizing forces in the region."
See, all the nice descriptive numbers at the beginning, and then the save the world stuff that puts the numbers into context. I think of it as a suspension of reality...the reality is that I'm Just a Girl Doing My Job, the suspension is that I'm doing a Really Important Job that Makes a Difference.
I forgot to mention a very important step before I start Day 2. I read the relevant Promotion Year's Commandant's Guidance to Boards and Panels. Not that I expect to have my OER write itself by reading this document, but it helps me find some good, powerful verbiage. This year I found myself relating a lot more of what I did to being innovative and adaptable, able to consider different solutions to problems, based on what was in the Guidance. It helps to frame the discussion.
I admit to liking to show off my vocabulary in my input. Using big words and finding nearly poetic turns of phrase helps me find something enjoyable about writing it...I mean, how can I not like writing something like: "Spearheaded CO/OIC ownership of WPB schedule." Mercurial, heuristic, systemic, debilitating, contentious, imbued all make me smile.
Day 2 is a grind-stone kind of day. But if it's done well, the OER writer should just be able to cut and paste some of the bullets into the comments blocks. Which is what I found myself doing on Day 3.
I learned something really important on Day 3 this year. I had planned to cut and paste a lot of what I put in XO's OER straight into mine. I figured, sure he did most of the grunt work, but I'm the one who told him to do it, so I get credit for it. But then I realized the difference between the CO's and XO's jobs. What I did this year was long-term, strategic type stuff; XO did the more tactical execution of it. I don't know why that was such a revelation, but it was. And it made it so that I couldn't cut and paste on Day 3.
Day 3 is the writing of the comments. Seven blocks (yes, I'm including Description of Duties), all very tightly proscribed by length. It's almost a game to get the stuff to fit...rearranging lists to make sure there's no white space at the end of the line, using abbreviations that still make sense ("ID’d & implemented long term sol’ns for reducing units' environmental footprint & save CG $$"), strategically spaced hyphenated words, deciding what is important enough from the input to include in limited space. I think that's why I actually prefer to provide a recommended version of the actual OER to my supervisor...it allows me to tell them what I did that I thought was important.
I got my input in on time last week. Or well, almost...I didn't account for an early weekend on Friday afternoon in anticipation of the holiday, so I had to call my Supervisor to let him know that it wouldn't be there by 1100. But he'd be sure to have it by 1500. I think I emailed it off at 1445. So, almost on time. And then I realized just yesterday that I forgot to put a couple of important incidents in...like that guest post I wrote for the COMDT's blog, and that whole debacle about that gunshoot we did. Oh well, there's a bunch of other good stuff in there. Maybe no one will notice. And thank goodness it's done for this year!
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