Pallets, paint, and a steady kind of strength

The boat has been a hive of activity today. Over the last two days, 46 pallets have been brought on board. Not dainty little parcels either. Spare parts for the engine room, endless paint, and everything we need to stay fed for the journey ahead. We might take on a few more supplies in Hamburg, after we return from Narvik, but the bulk of it was ordered for Rotterdam, and it arrived on time. No big drama, just the background rhythm of forklifts, cranes, and the low metallic hum of everything being shifted into place.

While I spent the day watching and learning about safety procedures—what the deck crew has to check daily, what needs to be repaired or improved in the next weeks—the crew just kept moving stuff. Each pallet had to be broken down and carried off. Not dumped in a heap but delivered to where it belongs. Some things go down to the engine room, others up to the galley, others into obscure storage rooms that I will probably never find again. No shortcuts, no complaints. Just a rhythm of lifting, carrying, placing, then doing it again. Their backs and knees must be having lengthy internal conversations by now, but not a word of it is said out loud.

Somewhere in between all of that, a small team of divers showed up to polish the propeller and remove barnacles from the sea chest. For those unfamiliar, the sea chest is not a hidden box of treasure. It’s a large metal opening in the hull, below the waterline, that brings in seawater for cooling and other systems. Over time, little marine squatters start settling in and interfering with flow. So, the divers go in, clean it out, and make sure everything’s clear and operational. I was told that if the mesh is blocked, the system struggles to breathe. You don't want that at sea.

We’re due to leave soon. The pilot is meant to arrive in another two hours.

I found a seat in the corner of the bridge, just out of the way. There’s something about watching a ship this size being readied for departure, piece by piece, by people who know exactly what they’re doing. You start to notice the shape of it all. Even the repetition feels intentional. There is a kind of grace in how it comes together.

(written 05.08.25)