done that

By bicycle to Carnamah

Pictures and stories from my journey by bicycle during 21 months from Basel to Carnamah - and back by boat.
18 countries, 3 continents, 27'000 km

(in german)

Saturday, 17th May 2008
Lindenberg 3, Basel
7.00 pm

Sunday, 25th May 2008
Eisenwerk, Frauenfeld
4.00 pm

> deutsch

Wow, that was quick! I have only just left Australia, about five and a half weeks ago, and here I am already in good old... Italy. I really can't complain. Only some 179 years ago, the first white immigrants to Western Australia stranded on Cottesloe Beach just north of Fremantle after a long journey of over eight months across the seas from England.

As to my voyage, it was a mere six days from Fremantle to Singapore on the container ship „Theodor Storm“. Then in Singapore I had to wait long enough for my next boat, that I could have gone travelling into Malaysia or Indonesia. But I was not in the mood for a quick run around to anywhere, so I decided just to hang out in Singapore, taking the days as they come and go, while watching the other travellers as they come and go, too.
Such as an English woman, on her way to Australia to go walkabout with a group of Aboriginals in Arnhemland; or a Swiss student on her way home from Malaysia and that is going to study Persian at the same Institute in Tehran, where I also spent two weeks some time ago; or an American engineer, travelling around the world writing his diary in Esperanto...
You really don't need to travel to meet interesting people. Sometimes you can also just sit somewhere and watch them coming past.

But after 18 days in Singapore, I was glad to finally move again and climb on board the „Al Fujairah“. As it turned out, I was not the only passenger. There were also Maud and Ola, a retired Swedish couple, and Pius, another Swiss traveller on their way home.

The sea was extraordinary calm, especially the Indian Ocean, at times as flat as a bath tub. And at times it was also extraordinary busy, just like a highway. Until we passed Sri Lanka, we always had at least four or five other freighters within sight, which kept me wondering, when we would reach the open sea. Only after Sri Lanka, the ships seem to spread out a bit more, some taking detours while trying to dodge the pirates around Somalia, others turning further north heading for the Persian gulf.

With the set meal times, a sauna, a tennis table, a swimming pool, books, magazines, films, games and a chatty Maud, the time passed surprisingly quickly, and I got surprisingly little of my intended work done. Somewhere half way along the journey the captain invited everyone on the ship to a barbecue on the deck, while the crew organized a karaoke. The chief engineer invited us for a walk around the engine room, where I felt as little as Johnny, if he were climbing around a car engine. An impressive machinery, that kept us moving day and night.

Only 24 hours after we passed the sands of the Sinai desert around the Suez Channel, Europe welcomed us with the mountains of Crete covered in snow. It was time to put on long sleeves again.

And after fifteen literally long days, seven of them counting 25 hours to make up for the time difference, we finally arrived to Genoa. Almost at least. One hour before our expected time of arrival – I could already see the lighthouse of Genoa flashing ahead us – the ship suddenly veered off into the wind, came to a stop, and two red lights on top of the mast were turned on. Which meant we were drifting, just 20 miles out of Genoa. We put the champagne – „sparkling wine“ I should say to be politically correct – back into the fridge and went up to the bridge instead, to ask what was happening. Apparently our berth was taken, and we had to wait for another day before we could go into the port.

Today on a nice sunny day of spring, we could get off the ship. It must only just have gotten warmer as the Italians are still all wearing their winter coats, while I thought it was warm enough for a T-shirt only. Maybe I still have the warmth of Australia inside me. Anyway "Buon Giorno Italia"!

By the way:
According to the ship mechanics, our ship consumed about 80 tons of fuel per day. With this information I started to do a bit of maths: Burning 80 tons of fossil fuel produces about 200 tons of carbondioxide (CO2). And this every day. The single trip of our ship alone from Singapore to Genoa would thus have produced roughly 3000 tons of CO2, while removing 1800 tons of breathable oxygen from the air.

That sounds crazy and not very healthy at all, and I was just about to jump overboard, when I decided to do some more maths:
Our boat has a gross tonnage of about 35'000 tons and the distance from Singapore to Genoa is about 12'000 kilometers. This means, that for every ton of gross weight moved by one kilometer we produced just over 7 grams of CO2.
With the same calculations a loaded car, weighing 1,6 tons and consuming 8 liters (6.4 kg) of fuel on 100 kilometers would produce about 100 grams of CO2 per ton and kilometer.
Maybe the comparison is not so good, maybe the numbers are not so precise. But the result – pretty much consistent with other similar calculations – was reassuring enough for me to stay on board. All in all, travelling by cargoship remains many times more energy-efficient than travelling by car or by aeroplane.

But the trophy of course still goes to the first European immigrants to Western Australia. It might have taken them eight months to reach their new home. But at least, in terms of energy efficiency, their windpowered voyage had an outstanding record...

I am sitting on the balcony of a backpackers in Scarborough, watching a containership as it passes Rottnest Island, then veeres off and now slowly disappears on the horizon to the west, heading for a different place in a different world, somewhere far away, out of sight, out of reach.

I love ports, and I love watching ships. Always I wonder, where this ship has come from, where that one will go to. I wonder where a ship had been, what it had seen, I wonder what mission it has, what people live on it. Every boat is a little world on its own, calling into ports for a visit, maybe to drop something off, maybe to take something on, and then it moves on again, taking all its secrets with it and making room for the next boat. It had come from the unknown and it disappears to the unknown. It's an eternal coming and going, that's what I think is so fascinating about ports. And maybe it is so fascinating, because our lives are just like this, too. It's an eternal coming and going in this port we call Earth.

In the Port of Fremantle there are all sorts of ships. On the North Quay there are many containerships, bringing all sorts of things hidden and stored away in the containers. Maybe a load of bicycles from Taiwan in this one, maybe a load of computers from Japan in that one, maybe a load of toys from China in the one over there. The contents of those containers stacked like blocks of Lego on top of each other defy my imagination. However, in one of them arriving soon, there will be the furniture of Ivana and Chris who have just moved from New Zealand into a yet empty house in Perth.

Parked on the southern side of Swan River, on Victoria Quay, there are regularly hundreds of new cars, brought in by big car carriers to keep WA on the move. At other times you could see tens of thousands of sheep in the same place, leaving WA for a long journey to arabic countries, where many of them would be used to celebrate Eid. 12 years ago I helped bringing the sheep onto these boats. One year ago, in Lahore, I understood why.

A couple of days after I had arrived to Fremantle in October, there were three huge American Navy ships, including one aircraft carrier, berthed on Victoria Quay, on a friendly visit. A few weeks later, berthed at the same place, I see the Oceanic Viking, a big Australian customs vessel, that has now left to monitor the activities of the internationally disputed Japanese whaling fleet in the Southern Ocean. And at other times again, at the same place could see a luxury cruiseship, taking on and dropping off passengers.

And yesterday, when I caught the bus from Fremantle to Scarborough, I spotted a big ship fully loaded with huge rotor blades for windturbines, put into frames and stacked ontop of each others like containers. It looks like WA is getting a another big windfarm!

So many different ships, different ideas, different missions, different stories. All passing through this port of Fremantle, it is wonderful.

Now the containership I was watching has dissappeared. But it is a eternal coming and going. And I know, another ship will be leaving tomorrow. I won't be watching that one, because I will be on it, disappearing beyond the horizon, heading for a different place in a different world, somewhere far away. Yet a place I call home, too.

Good bye Australia. Thank you!

There was nothing unusual this morning when I went to have a shower. Yet it was different, because this morning, instead of passing through a gas burner, the hot water quietly ran out of the tank from the solar hot water system we had mounted onto the roof yesterday. I had my longest shower for a long time this morning, because it just felt good.

Thanks from sunny Carnamah to all those who have contributed to this project!
Long live the sun!