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I was horrified when joining instructions arrived for my fifth ship to discover that I was going to be back on the Irish Wasa, a ship held together by rust. There had been many adventures and a good ‘crowd’ during my first trip on the Irish Wasa in 1974. Fortunately, there was also a good crowd during my second trip, as mentioned in my previous post, with one or two notable exceptions!
Another morale booster on the Irish Wasa was that although we visited some run of the mill ports where shore leave was either undesirable or impossible, we also ended up off the beaten track. During my five-and-a-half month trip we clocked up twenty ports. The boring included Dunkirk, Antwerp, and Dagenham, where we discharged iron ore at Ford (the motor manufacturer). Then there were the more regular iron ore ports such as Amsterdam and Koverhar (Finland).
Next there were the unusual ports including Gdansk in Poland (loading sulphur over Christmas) Malm (a jetty miles up a Norwegian fjord), Odda (a proper dock miles up a different Norwegian fjord), Storugns (a port on the Baltic island of Gotland), and La Pallice in France. The Irish Wasa also ended up in some ‘exotic’ locations with visits to Melilla (a Spanish enclave in Morocco), El Ferrol in Spain, Dakar in Senegal, and Takoradi in Ghana, were we spent two weeks alongside.
Takoradi was a very interesting place. I have fond memories of the seamen’s mission there, especially the padre’s wife who had a wonderful sense of humour, much of it directed at Takoradi. She showed me how to fold a local banknote so that it read 1 Banana (contraction of Bank of Ghana). Then there was the open-air disco on top of a local hotel where locals danced under the stars.
While I enjoyed Takoradi the one port I will never forget is Botwood in Newfoundland. We were there from 15-19 January 1976. The Irish Wasa was escorted in and out of port by a Canadian Coastguard icebreaker, CCGS John Cabot. As I recall the Irish Wasa was the last ship to load in Botwood that winter because of the ice. I had been in ice before but not like this. After experiencing a significant storm that caused a lot of damage to the Irish Wasa before arriving at Botwood most people were relieved that the ship was lying quietly alongside instead of violently pitching and rolling while hove-to in the storm.
Botwood was much more to us than a well-earned rest after the storm. This friendly little town seemed to welcome us with open arms. And for three young deck cadets the discovery that young women significantly outnumbered young men in Botwood added to our enjoyment of the town, despite the cold! It was good to have good company even for a few days. Thank you Botwood.
While Botwood and other places remain fixed in my memory, none of them were home. Having travelled for most of my working life I know that there is no place quite like home. Except that even home isn’t home, just a temporary residence. I’m looking forward to the eternal home Jesus promised to all who follow Him. Will I still remember my earthly home and places like Takoradi and Botwood? I don’t believe that my earthly memories will be that important. Unlike now I will have no need to reminisce. Until then I hold onto the words of Jesus to His disciples:
Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also. John 14:1-3
Gary Fultz said:
everyone’s home is different. That fact has always struck me as I thought my home was always better than anywhere else (why cant people see that!). When Jesus said “I go to prepare a place for you” he could have meant…”and each will be different”
David said:
Now there’s a thought Gary. For me I suppose home has always been about the people and the place rather than the bricks and mortar. It was a bit strange coming back to my parents’ home before I was married. As soon as I went away one of my sisters used to move into ‘my room’ and hated vacating it again when I came home on leave. Then there was the time my parents moved house while I was away – I only found out when reading a letter from them on my flight back to the UK. The mail had arrived as a bunch of us were leaving the ship to head for the airport.