by captrmetz » February 2, 2017, 9:34 am
Thunder Bay to Superior - 694 Times
In 1974, M/V Incan Superior was a new carferry. Built in Vancouver, British Columbia, she came to Thunder Bay, Ontario, by way of the Panama Canal and the St. Lawrence Seaway. Incan was 365 feet long, and powered by twin diesel engines boasting 2,150 horsepower each. She had twin screws, and with a speed of 30 knots would be the fastest ship on the Great Lakes.
From Thunder Bay, she carried 26 railroad cars, loaded with newsprint for the paper companies in the US, to Superior, Wisconsin. She brought empty rail cars back to Thunder Bay.
The day Incan arrived in Thunder Bay, I had to see her right away, even if she was nothing but a glorified tug and barge like the skipper on the Senator of Canada said. But what I saw was a ship! A ship with beautiful lines, very modernly built with twin swept-back stacks and pilot house. I thought, “If old grumpy could see this…”
It was a comfortable feeling to go aboard a new ship where everything was nice. All the navigation equipment was new. Everything smelled of newness. I stowed my gear in my nice, new cabin.
What a surprise when the first person I met was Whitey. The first words out of his mouth were, “See, I told you.”
Yes, he was right, and I could not thank him enough. I could not believe this was happening to me. How did I luck out and get this job? Of all the applications that were submitted, how in the world was mine chosen? I found out later that everybody thought, as I did, that it would be tough to get a job like this, so very few actually submitted an application.
Life was great again. Incan Superior had two crews, each working for 15 days on and then having 15 days off. We worked 12 hours a day, six on followed by six hours off. What a job!
On our first trip to Superior, we had a deck load of only one rail car as a test. As we entered the breakwall at Superior with all flags blowing steadily into the wind, a group of small craft came out to escort Incan through the piers and along the inside harbor to Duluth. Television helicopters flew overhead taking pictures, various tugboats and ships blew whistle salutes, and high-pressure water hoses shot streams of water far into the air.
The captain backed Incan up to the ramp. Now the big test was to begin. The rail track on the ramp was built in Superior, Wisconsin. And the rail track on the ship’s deck was built 2000 miles away in Vancouver, British Columbia. When the ramp lowered to the deck of the ship, the tracks were supposed to match up so the rail cars could be loaded or unloaded. But would they?
All the engineers and other personnel from England as well as railroad officials stood by waiting for the ship’s stern to approach the ramp. The ramp man was in radio contact with the skipper telling him how far to back her and in what direction to move the stern for the lineup of the pin to be directly below the notch of the ramp. Everything was all lined up and the ramp man gave the thumbs down signal for the ramp to be lowered. On the first try, as the ramp moved down toward the pin, the stern moved out of position. The signal was given to stop the ramp from lowering. By radio, the stern man guided the skipper to move the stern back into position. This time, when the thumbs down signal was given, the ramp connected to the ship.
All the bigwigs scurried up the ramp to check on the track lineup. To their great surprise, each set of tracks lined up perfectly. A loud cheer went up, and everybody was congratulating everybody else and slapping each other on the back. The one lonely rail car ran over the tracks, down the ramp, and onto the shore. Everything worked.
The bigwigs headed for their cocktails and feast, and we secured the ship for the night. All was quiet. Everything worked exactly to the plan worked out in three countries thousands of miles apart. Our crew went uptown for beer and pretzels.
The following weeks turned into months and the months into years as the Incan Superior traveled back and forth between Thunder Bay and Superior.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
On my two weeks off, however, my time was my own. One day, I noticed a converted tugboat for sale in the local paper. I gave the owner a call, and decided to take a look. At my first glimpse of her, I knew that she was mine.
The vessel was named Mentor. She was a 40-foot wooden-hull tug with a 100-horsepower diesel engine for power. In a few weeks of work between stints on the Incan Superior, I had the little tug fixed up to my own liking, loaded my dive gear aboard, and headed out across Lake Superior for Isle Royale, 60 miles from Thunder Bay. This time I saw the island not as an employee, but as a visitor. I could again smell the pine forest from miles off its shores. I felt I was home.
I made the crossing alone and arrived at McCargoe Cove late at night. Using radar, I ran the little tug around and in between the many rocky reefs that lay just under the surface of the cold water. They waited silently for just a small error on the part of a sailor that would allow them to snatch a weary boat from the safety of deeper water. But this sailor would not be caught; for I knew these waters well from my days of working on the island.
I anchored in the bay and made myself a cold drink, which I sipped openly on the stern of my boat. It was a beautiful night. The North Star shone brightly just off the end of the Big Dipper. The Northern Lights shimmered in the northern sky as they showed off all their beautiful colors. God, I felt so fortunate to be back on my island looking at Mother Nature’s creation! In the distance, the loons called for their mates. Mr. Sandman came for me.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Each winter when Incan Superior was laid up, I went back to navigation school. I received my first mate’s ticket and eventually my masters license.
Time passed, and I was Incan’s first mate with a masters ticket in my pocket. I wanted my own ship to sail. Rumor had it that Incan Ships was going to build another vessel to run from Red Rock, Ontario, to Superior. I figured she would be mine to sail, so I bit my pride and decided to stick it out a little longer on Incan Superior.
Life really wasn’t too bad. On my two weeks off, I lived on my boat and dove the wrecks around Isle Royale. When I left Incan Superior for my two weeks, George, the cook, packed me a big box of leftover food from the galley for me to take to my boat. The chief engineer always had diesel fuel leaking from various hoses and pipes that was caught in buckets to be dumped into a holding tank ashore. “What if I take that fuel for my boat instead of getting rid of it?” I asked.
“Okay with me,” the chief agreed. I would let the diesel fuel sit and settle in a drum for a few days, then pump off the good fuel at the top of the barrel.
So I had food and fuel to last me for two weeks. Isle Royale, here I come…
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
More time passed, and still there was no new ship and no captain’s job in sight for me. The Incan Superior job was starting to take a toll on me. It was very boring on the same old run trip after trip. I knew that at 2000 hours we would be abeam of Rock of Ages Light; at 2400 abeam of Grand Marais, Minnesota; and so on, all the way to the Duluth piers. I needed another change in my job and my life.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
It was 1980, and I was under the engine in my boat, full of grease and oil, when the boat listed over. That told me someone had just come aboard. I heard a voice ring out, “Permission to come aboard, sir.”
“Come on,” I yelled back as fuel ran down my shirt sleeves and into my armpits.
It was my old friend, Rick Hulst, who had helped me get my first third mate’s job with the grumpy Old Man on the Senator of Canada. Rick apparently had just come home and was still wearing his suit and tie. He didn’t even say hello or shake my greasy hand. “Do you want a captain’s job now, or do you still insist on playing mate on the Incan?”
“What’s up?” I was more than ready to leave the Incan.
“Come with me to my house, and I will call Captain Ron Dean, shore skipper for the Soo River Company.” I went, grease and all.
Rick placed the call. I talked to Captain Dean and he offered me a master’s job on one of their ships.
After seven years and 694 trips on which I sailed 277,200 miles between Thunder Bay, Ontario, and Superior, Wisconsin, I quit Incan Ships Limited.
- Attachments
-
- M/V Incan Superior
-
- Departing Thunder Bay with 26 rail cars.
-
- Rail deck on Incan Superior in Thunder Bay.
-
- 1st. Rail car to be unloaded.
-
- First trip to Superior WI.
- 1st Trip to Superior.jpg (42.92 KiB) Viewed 4261 times
Thunder Bay to Superior - 694 Times
In 1974, M/V Incan Superior was a new carferry. Built in Vancouver, British Columbia, she came to Thunder Bay, Ontario, by way of the Panama Canal and the St. Lawrence Seaway. Incan was 365 feet long, and powered by twin diesel engines boasting 2,150 horsepower each. She had twin screws, and with a speed of 30 knots would be the fastest ship on the Great Lakes.
From Thunder Bay, she carried 26 railroad cars, loaded with newsprint for the paper companies in the US, to Superior, Wisconsin. She brought empty rail cars back to Thunder Bay.
The day Incan arrived in Thunder Bay, I had to see her right away, even if she was nothing but a glorified tug and barge like the skipper on the Senator of Canada said. But what I saw was a ship! A ship with beautiful lines, very modernly built with twin swept-back stacks and pilot house. I thought, “If old grumpy could see this…”
It was a comfortable feeling to go aboard a new ship where everything was nice. All the navigation equipment was new. Everything smelled of newness. I stowed my gear in my nice, new cabin.
What a surprise when the first person I met was Whitey. The first words out of his mouth were, “See, I told you.”
Yes, he was right, and I could not thank him enough. I could not believe this was happening to me. How did I luck out and get this job? Of all the applications that were submitted, how in the world was mine chosen? I found out later that everybody thought, as I did, that it would be tough to get a job like this, so very few actually submitted an application.
Life was great again. Incan Superior had two crews, each working for 15 days on and then having 15 days off. We worked 12 hours a day, six on followed by six hours off. What a job!
On our first trip to Superior, we had a deck load of only one rail car as a test. As we entered the breakwall at Superior with all flags blowing steadily into the wind, a group of small craft came out to escort Incan through the piers and along the inside harbor to Duluth. Television helicopters flew overhead taking pictures, various tugboats and ships blew whistle salutes, and high-pressure water hoses shot streams of water far into the air.
The captain backed Incan up to the ramp. Now the big test was to begin. The rail track on the ramp was built in Superior, Wisconsin. And the rail track on the ship’s deck was built 2000 miles away in Vancouver, British Columbia. When the ramp lowered to the deck of the ship, the tracks were supposed to match up so the rail cars could be loaded or unloaded. But would they?
All the engineers and other personnel from England as well as railroad officials stood by waiting for the ship’s stern to approach the ramp. The ramp man was in radio contact with the skipper telling him how far to back her and in what direction to move the stern for the lineup of the pin to be directly below the notch of the ramp. Everything was all lined up and the ramp man gave the thumbs down signal for the ramp to be lowered. On the first try, as the ramp moved down toward the pin, the stern moved out of position. The signal was given to stop the ramp from lowering. By radio, the stern man guided the skipper to move the stern back into position. This time, when the thumbs down signal was given, the ramp connected to the ship.
All the bigwigs scurried up the ramp to check on the track lineup. To their great surprise, each set of tracks lined up perfectly. A loud cheer went up, and everybody was congratulating everybody else and slapping each other on the back. The one lonely rail car ran over the tracks, down the ramp, and onto the shore. Everything worked.
The bigwigs headed for their cocktails and feast, and we secured the ship for the night. All was quiet. Everything worked exactly to the plan worked out in three countries thousands of miles apart. Our crew went uptown for beer and pretzels.
The following weeks turned into months and the months into years as the Incan Superior traveled back and forth between Thunder Bay and Superior.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
On my two weeks off, however, my time was my own. One day, I noticed a converted tugboat for sale in the local paper. I gave the owner a call, and decided to take a look. At my first glimpse of her, I knew that she was mine.
The vessel was named Mentor. She was a 40-foot wooden-hull tug with a 100-horsepower diesel engine for power. In a few weeks of work between stints on the Incan Superior, I had the little tug fixed up to my own liking, loaded my dive gear aboard, and headed out across Lake Superior for Isle Royale, 60 miles from Thunder Bay. This time I saw the island not as an employee, but as a visitor. I could again smell the pine forest from miles off its shores. I felt I was home.
I made the crossing alone and arrived at McCargoe Cove late at night. Using radar, I ran the little tug around and in between the many rocky reefs that lay just under the surface of the cold water. They waited silently for just a small error on the part of a sailor that would allow them to snatch a weary boat from the safety of deeper water. But this sailor would not be caught; for I knew these waters well from my days of working on the island.
I anchored in the bay and made myself a cold drink, which I sipped openly on the stern of my boat. It was a beautiful night. The North Star shone brightly just off the end of the Big Dipper. The Northern Lights shimmered in the northern sky as they showed off all their beautiful colors. God, I felt so fortunate to be back on my island looking at Mother Nature’s creation! In the distance, the loons called for their mates. Mr. Sandman came for me.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Each winter when Incan Superior was laid up, I went back to navigation school. I received my first mate’s ticket and eventually my masters license.
Time passed, and I was Incan’s first mate with a masters ticket in my pocket. I wanted my own ship to sail. Rumor had it that Incan Ships was going to build another vessel to run from Red Rock, Ontario, to Superior. I figured she would be mine to sail, so I bit my pride and decided to stick it out a little longer on Incan Superior.
Life really wasn’t too bad. On my two weeks off, I lived on my boat and dove the wrecks around Isle Royale. When I left Incan Superior for my two weeks, George, the cook, packed me a big box of leftover food from the galley for me to take to my boat. The chief engineer always had diesel fuel leaking from various hoses and pipes that was caught in buckets to be dumped into a holding tank ashore. “What if I take that fuel for my boat instead of getting rid of it?” I asked.
“Okay with me,” the chief agreed. I would let the diesel fuel sit and settle in a drum for a few days, then pump off the good fuel at the top of the barrel.
So I had food and fuel to last me for two weeks. Isle Royale, here I come…
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
More time passed, and still there was no new ship and no captain’s job in sight for me. The Incan Superior job was starting to take a toll on me. It was very boring on the same old run trip after trip. I knew that at 2000 hours we would be abeam of Rock of Ages Light; at 2400 abeam of Grand Marais, Minnesota; and so on, all the way to the Duluth piers. I needed another change in my job and my life.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
It was 1980, and I was under the engine in my boat, full of grease and oil, when the boat listed over. That told me someone had just come aboard. I heard a voice ring out, “Permission to come aboard, sir.”
“Come on,” I yelled back as fuel ran down my shirt sleeves and into my armpits.
It was my old friend, Rick Hulst, who had helped me get my first third mate’s job with the grumpy Old Man on the Senator of Canada. Rick apparently had just come home and was still wearing his suit and tie. He didn’t even say hello or shake my greasy hand. “Do you want a captain’s job now, or do you still insist on playing mate on the Incan?”
“What’s up?” I was more than ready to leave the Incan.
“Come with me to my house, and I will call Captain Ron Dean, shore skipper for the Soo River Company.” I went, grease and all.
Rick placed the call. I talked to Captain Dean and he offered me a master’s job on one of their ships.
After seven years and 694 trips on which I sailed 277,200 miles between Thunder Bay, Ontario, and Superior, Wisconsin, I quit Incan Ships Limited.