....because the radar unit had been repossessed because of non-payment.
More here So, back in the day, a BC Ferries Captain knowingly sailed a vessel
without an operable radar unit.
Did BC Ferries know that they were operating a vessel without radar?
Were the authorities, ie. Transport Canada aware that this vessel was being operated without a functioning radar?
Having run aground in foggy conditions, I would assume there was an inquiry? Did the 'no-radar' aspect come up, as I would assume it must have?
Was there any punitive actions taken by Transport Canada on either BC Ferries or the Captain?
Fast forward to 2018.
A Captain discovers that his main radar unit is malfunctioning or totally inoperable prior to departing on a scheduled sailing.
The sailing is: __________.
How times change.
'Neil', I hadn't forgotten the question you posed as to the work experience differences I encountered between the
Queen of Sidney and the
Sechelt Queen way
back in the day when 'J.C.' was still in short pants and I joined the 'penguin staff' at B.C.Ferries.
Having completed a torrid yet obviously successful watch on the spiffy-new
Queen of Sidney, the 'penguin staff' and the female cleaners were called to assemble
as quickly as possible at the Chief Steward's office.
Standing about a yard from Chief Tommy, I could smell where he had been prior to delivering his call to assembly.
Mouths gaped open when the Chief announced that we had won the meritorious honour of reporting to the
Sechelt Queen the next day at 0:500 and not a minute
later as we would quickly have to find our way around this once-proud 'Black-Baller' and be prepared to deliver a level of service like we'd crewed this vessel
since, well, forever!
Arriving at the terminal at about 0:450 didn't leave much time to have a flying 'look-see' inside this odd looking vessel enroute to the 'Purser's office where Chief Tommy's 'gruff': "welcome aboard people!" dissertation commenced at exactly 0:500 hours.
"This is going to be our new home for at least the next two months so everyone should be prepared to make the best of it". I'm sure many of our crew found
the "make the best of it" edict somewhat beguiling or it evaporated before reaching the: 'Oh I get it' recesses of the brain.
I don't remember if any of the watch I was with at the time had done any watches on this ferry before our current flock of penguins descended onto this boat
but given the barrage of rapid-fire questions directed to Chief Tommy, his arms were flailing directional signals like a New York traffic cop.
"Coffee shop up forward, cafeteria back there on this deck, dining room upstairs at the back. If the room is round, you're in the right place" he shouted.
I needed to find the male W.C.'s, mop and broom closets and wherever they'd stashed the roller towels, the non-roll type toilet tissue that dispensed from an oblong metal box, one brown, triple fold square of tissue at a time. (Hands up, who's man enough to divulge remembering this cigarette paper-like product)?
To open this metal box dispenser, there was a small key hole on the top of the box which allowed the front of the box to fall open. To restock the supply, one had
to ensure that at least one flap of the new stock was inserted into the top flap-fold at the top of the remaining stock so that the product had a continuous run
from the top to the bottom slot of the dispenser. (Crikey, why did I get into all that)? Well,here's another opportunity for the adventurous-at-heart to relate what
methods were used to snag the next piece of tissue out of its lodging in the metal box. (Clue: pens, pencils, keys, tips of either bar on the side of one's eye-
glasses, would usually bring the relief for which one was eternally grateful).
Let's get out of the not-overly bright-lit W.C., and continue the initial,'where is it'?, where are they? tour.
Ambling out onto the promenade deck, I realized we'd begun the 0:600 run to Departure Bay as passengers were footing their way towards the cafeteria.
Someone was looking for the coffee shop and decrying the lack of intelligible signage. I feigned deafness but within steps of the W.C. I heard 'that voice'
inquiring if I had found my way up to the bridge deck and found the cast-iron floor polisher yet as I would need it to buff the maroon-red concrete decks of
the officers' cabins, day room and surrounding companionways? "No", I muttered, quickly wondering why this task was part of the busboy's tour of duties
on this lovely
ferry boat. A "come with me" directive, would for now, put my 'wondering-mind' in neutral.
I could do a book on the use of this god-forsaken relic of equipment, with its' directional levers on each side of the main shaft that would, with the slightest
touch, send the cast-iron polisher careening to port or starboard. Within the first two days, while attempting a smooth sweep to the right, and nearing a bulkhead
I gently squeezed the right-side lever sending this cast iron beast careening to the right, and into the bulkhead, my right foot unfortunately in its path.
How someone in that part of the ship didn't hear the one and only 'F-bomb' I think I ever uttered, (at least in a public space), during my entire journey with the
company was, I suppose, a fortuitous miracle.
That wee accident went unreported as a) I thought for several minutes that I'd broken something in my foot, b) it was my fault it happened, (and waiting for the
pain to become bearable, I could hear my Dad's warnings about the perils of using machinery...lesson obviously not completely grasped to this point), and c) No
one had told me that one should report 'injuries'. Leaving the beast parked against the bulkhead and the thick, yellow power cord strewn across the deck it was
time to retreat and get myself together.
Without removing my shoe, I massaged my foot in the confines of one of the male crew W.C.'s and without consulting my break schedule, found my way to the
rear of the dimly-lit coffee shop, where crew-pots of coffee, and hot water were available.
When B.C. Ferries deconstructed the
Chinook taking out most of the once-elegant staterooms the ambiance of the passenger areas were dull, dismal, uninviting
and once inside the crew quarters, the rooms were blank, rust-coloured bulkheads, stripped of all décor giving large sections of the deck above the prom deck the
look and feel of a demolition zone. The decks were not smooth as very small remnants of bulkheads and stanchions could often be felt underfoot.
The deconstruction process of the
Chinook claimed the, (I'm told), once very efficient air-conditioning system throughout the ship, and resulted in a system that
did very little to provide efficient cooling especially during the two warmest summer months of 1964.
The cafeteria was cramped, cool air from the deckhead mounted A/C nozzles was quickly negated by the heat from the galley.
On the upper deck, in the
Sechelt Queen's circular dining room one would be forgiven if one concluded the entire place had been decorated a Timothy Leary
follower. A pale green carpet (definitely not the BC Ferries motif) consumed the deck, the small windows with three metal bars, just as all the windows on the
S.Q. had been fitted with. The draperies were 'T.L.' masterpieces, festooned with every large and small coloured flowers known to mankind.
The steel roof of the dining room seemed to attract every ounce of the sun's energy, for which the inept A/C system had little, if any noticeable remedy
thus ensuring fast turn-around of diners on most trips.
Back in the day when 80% of garbage went down the chute into the briny, large flocks of seagulls followed the ships as they traversed most of the
ferry routes. The gulls loved to perch on the roof of the dining room and would often take flight, taking no favours, whilst dropping a ferry trip 'souvenir'
upon coiffed curls, bald heads, sun hats, and even the odd steward or busboy who were fleeing aft for a quick smoke break. (not funny picking on those
who offered up the daily food morsels!)
But, maybe the gulls were trying to send us polluters an environmental message as early as the mid-sixties.
Our relatively small crew in the days of service on the
S.Q. were a good lot by and large, dealing constantly with mechanical issues, equipment malfunctions
that hindered the catering department's service delivery more noticeable than other departments. Can't recall the
S.Q. breaking down, missing trips due to
mechanical issues or the like. In fact she seemed to run quieter than the newly built
Sidney and certainly had no problems in completing crossings on schedule.
For seven weeks we soldiered on, with our snub-nosed beauty and didn't notice that a rainbow was beginning to form, as yet five days in the distance, for the
radiance of that rainbow, was to be our grand reward for our servitude of the past seven weeks on the 'hand-me-down'.
The rainbow burst forth in delightful splendor August 4, 1964, appearing at berth #1, Horseshoe Bay Terminal when our watch was the first B.C. Ferry crew to step
aboard the 'fresh from her final sea-trials, and T.C. approved, the
Queen of Nanaimo
True occurrence while crossing the loading ramp onto the car deck: Two stewardesses walking arm in arm broke into tears as they wildly exclaimed: "Now This is
a ferry boat...and a half! Wow!
I was two steps behind these two ladies and their burst of joy gave me goose-bumps, a quick knuckle-wipe across my face and a realization of what, at times,
meant to work for this as yet very young company.
……...Thanks for the memories...….