In Bad Bunkering: Let us pray (for no mishaps), the Hawsepiper, returning to a favorite subject, riffs on the design flaws and safety compromises that certain vessels bring to a frequent and unavoidable operation: loading bunker fuel. I share his sense of professional disdain when I see such poor design, whether it be on a ship, another tug, the barges themselves, or the docks and terminals we tie up at. Poor design, and shoddy workmanship, make everything harder and less safe than it could easily be if just a little more thought and resources were put into it.
In the bunkering biz the box and reefer ships are usually the most troublesome because of their hull forms. This combination RoRo/LoLo design might well be the worst ever…..the Hawespiper has circled the fuel connection in red and you can clearly see that it is well aft of the point at which the hull begins to curve away (the “turn of the bilge”). While this hull form might be necessary for speed, efficiency, stability, sea-keeping, etc., surely the connection could have been located somewhere in the middle third of the ship. After all, fueling is pretty important: without it ships, and their cargo, go nowhere. Spills, meanwhile, are verboten. There’s a big contradiction here between our zero tolerance of pollution incidents and the design and construction of these ships.
Above photo courtesy of Shipspotting.com, via Hawsepiper.
This smallish tanker, in comparison, has a much better layout: a more-or-less central connection and plenty of places to put up lines with good leads, and actual chocks and bitts to fairlead and secure them…..
…..plus plenty of flat hull length to lie against.
Any ship design which leaves a bunker barge with only half (or less) of it’s hull length overlapping with the flat section of the ship’s hull is, by definition, unsafe. Given the zero-tolerance culture for spills that has emerged in some parts of the world, and especially in ours (but, sadly, not all), you’d think that this would simply not be allowed. But you’d be wrong. And if you’ve been in this business long enough to have shed your greenhorn status then you know what would’ve happened to the tankermen on the barge (as well as the tug’s captain and, possibly, mate) if anything went wrong that was even remotely related to the half-assed tie-up: they’d be royally screwed. The first words from the authorities would be “If you knew it wasn’t safe, why’d you do it anyway, blah, blah, blah…..?” , even as these operations occur in plain view of those same authorities who could call a stop to it if they perceived the risk level to be unacceptably high for such a routine activity. Therein lies the risk-assessment trap: if nothing goes wrong the risk level is usually deemed to be fine; if disaster strikes then the risk level you accepted, and your assessment of it, will be retroactively declared unacceptable. You lose! And there would be nothing you could say in your own defense that would help you, either.
In the Hawsepiper’s case it appears that everyone involved did the best they could with the crappy cards they were dealt and it all turned out okay this time, just as it does the vast majority of the time, despite the challenges and the pushing of one’s luck. But that doesn’t mean that it’s a good idea to do it or that similar results can be expected every time. How routine is this kind of stuff? The quote from the tug’s crewman is both priceless and dead on: “Of all the shitty jobs I’ve done, this one is by far the most recent.”
So where in hell is the adult supervision here? That’s the most important question.
When the Coast Guard, or any other agency, tries to push the solution of way-above-our-paygrade problems like this down to the lowest level (the tug’s officers and/or the tankermen, as well as the ship’s crew), or even to the middle (the bunkering operators), they’re just kicking the can down the road. Either they don’t comprehend the fact that in the real world the power to refuse even an obviously unsafe job in a situation like this is hugely overrated, and ultimately ineffective, or they’re willfully ignoring it. For both the vessel crews and the operating companies, refusing the job because of a marginal tie-up is DOA in most cases. Even in the best of times this is an extremely competitive business, and these are certainly not the best of times. If Co. X won’t do it, for whatever reason(s), Co.’s Y & Z surely will. If this is going to be solved it will only happen if action is taken at a higher level. But it would be most helpful if it was remembered that the many of the critical details of how to do it safely can be learned from those who actually have to do it: the mariners.
Potential solutions? First, all classification societies could and should refuse to class any vessel design that doesn’t have a demonstrably safe and practical means of receiving a bunker barge alongside, and keeping it properly secured to actual deck fittings designed for that purpose as the vessel’s respective drafts change while cargo operations progress. Since the classification societies also must “compete” for vessel tonnage to class, which could force them to compromise their standards, they would need the protection of an international law requiring a reasonable minimum standard so as to prevent unfair competition. This would require the attention of the IMO. Second, the marine underwriters and P&I Clubs should refuse to insure them if they don’t meet an acceptable minimum standard, or else charge exorbitant premiums in exchange for accepting the increased risk. This step alone would go a long way towards encouraging better design and eliminating, or at least reducing, the problem. The vessel’s charterers, who have a big stake in the safe operation of the vessels carrying their valuable cargo, could also insist on better arrangements.
Want a good shoreside example of poor design? Those of you familiar with operating in the Long Island Sound ports no doubt have experienced the “bollards” at the old Wyatt’s Pink Tanks in New Haven (now Magellan). These “bollards” are actually I-beams with pins welded to them. As one would expect, mooring lines placed around steel objects with numerous right angles tend not to last very long. Nor would they aid you in staying attached to the dock when heavy strains are placed on those lines during bad weather. The first time I ever saw them, while throwing the lines over them as a deckhand, I remember thinking “They’ve got to be kidding!” Nope, they weren’t, and they’re still there today as far as I know. Chafing ge