Dancing with IRENE August 2011
The below was first published by Chesapeake Bay Magazine.
Dancing with IRENE
By William Band
A Bay Pilot recounts his experience weathering a hurricane aboard a cruise ship on Chesapeake Bay
August 2011. For days, the entire east coast of the United States had been watching the advance of Hurricane IRENE as she banged around the tropics and gradually began edging north toward the Mid-Atlantic States. On August 24th this massive weather system was northeast of Cuba with maximum sustained winds of 120 mph, and the forecast models had her pointed directly at Chesapeake Bay.
As a Maryland Bay pilot, I had more than a passing interest in what this storm was brewing. Buying extra batteries and water for our home was on my list of things to do, but I began to get a feeling that my name was going to be at the top of the pilot rotation list as IRENE came calling. By Friday, August 26th I was certain that I would be standing on the deck of a ship, riding out hurricane force winds and slashing rain. It wouldn’t be pretty.
The U.S. Coast Guard (USCG), the Maryland Pilots Association, the Maryland Port Administration and other interested parties held a meeting to strategize on the best action to safely deal with IRENE as she rolled up Chesapeake Bay. All active duty pilots were put on alert that we would be moving ships from Baltimore Harbor and Annapolis anchorage, and remaining on board throughout this weather event.
Friday afternoon the USCG Captain of the Port declared that the Port of Baltimore would be closed to movement at 2000 Saturday, August 27. The Maryland Port Administration decided to clear its berths of ship and barge traffic before that deadline. For those of us who work the ships…pilots, line handlers, tugboats and agents, our weekend with IRENE was about to begin.
The passenger ship Carnival Pride, cut short her weekly voyage to the Caribbean and returned to Baltimore, arriving at South Locust Point in Baltimore at 0430 Saturday, August 27th. She discharged all her passengers and ordered two pilots to sail outbound at 1100. I was one of them. My longtime friend and colleague Captain George Miller would be the other, both of us with decades of experience. It would be our job to direct the movements of the ship while riding out the storm. The Carnival Pride is 960’ in length, (longer than three football fields), 127’ in beam, with a deep draft of 27 feet. She looms approximately 130’ high from her waterline almost her entire length. Think about it: Carnival Pride’s sail area is tremendous, and with her shallow draft the wind’s effect on her would be profound.
On Saturday morning, with wind increasing and bands of rain beginning to drop buckets of water, Captain Miller and I arrived at Carnival Pride’s gangway and were escorted up to the bridge. Last line at the passenger pier in Baltimore Harbor (#9 South Locust Point) was at 1038, the wind NE at 20 kts. Within the hour the wind had built to 35 to 40 kts. We passed under the Chesapeake Bay Bridges at 1234, and listened to the radio communications between our Annapolis pilot launch and the various ships lying at anchor off the Severn River. It was important to know which ships might be underway in order to steer clear and avoid close quarters situations. Some of these ships were moving to anchor further down the Bay.
With the rising wind, I felt fortunate that Captain Miller and I had been able to step aboard Carnival Pride from dry land. Other pilots weren’t so lucky-not a few had to board these anchored ships in the howling wind. Ships lying at anchor will weathervane; they will veer from side to side causing a sea to roll down both sides of the ship. Trying to grab hold of the pilot ladder in those conditions is dangerous and scary.
By orders of the Captain of the Port, all ships would have a pilot aboard. No ship would be permitted closer to the Bay Bridges than 6 nautical miles. All ships were required to have a CPA (closest point of approach) of at least one nautical mile from each other. Eventually there would be 15 ships anchored or holding station between Thomas Point and Sharps Island Light.
I wanted to place Carnival Pride south of this flotilla, with no vessels to leeward. This would give us maneuvering room in heavy winds without risking collision. At 1400 we were approaching CR buoy off Sharps Island, Choptank River. As I began to reduce speed and bring Carnival Pride up into the wind, the captain gave a verbal warning via the intercom to the 900 crew below decks to hold on to something. The 50 kts of wind hitting the beam of this 86,000 ton ship was impressive. She heeled to port noticeably. It was then that I became aware of the power of the wind. As it increased in velocity it had been on our stern, pushing us down the Bay. When we came around to face it, a vociferous, modulated wailing sound began to tear through the ship’s rigging. It was chilling. We slowed to minimum speed (approximately 4 knots). Because of the force of the wind, the captain was reluctant to attempt anchoring with the ship’s undersized anchors. Instead we made the decision to steam slowly into the wind. And so it was here, off Sharps Island, that Carnival Pride began her dance with IRENE.
The Carnival Pride is powered by two azipods – essentially propellers that can be swiveled 360 degrees, meaning that the ship can be maneuvered forward or backward, and the stern left or right with relative ease. These azipods produce 62,370 combined horsepower. She also has a powerful bow thruster. These propulsion systems enabled us to hold her in a fashion that would be impossible on most traditional ships.
The master and staff captain split the watches, as did we pilots. They handled the azipods, and we steered the ship by giving helm orders and courses to steer to the helmsman. Because we were on a passenger ship there was a large bridge team in place consisting of the captain, pilot, deck officers, helmsmen, lookouts and cadets in training. Some monitored the ship’s systems while others were involved in ship handling and navigation.
In 50 kts of wind we were able to advance at approximately .2kt. We could move laterally by putting the wind slightly on either side of the bow. This was not easy, as the wind would gust through about 20 degrees left or right of its average direction. During my watch the current was ebbing. That, combined with the strong NE wind, enabled me to exactly walk the ship backwards down its previous track line while steering and powering ahead! At 2100 I was relieved by Captain Miller and returned at 0300. At 2100 the average wind speed was in the low 60s from the NE. IRENE’s eye was ESE of our position, more than 100 miles away. She was a big storm indeed!
As the wind increased, it was necessary to add more power to steer the ship. This small amount of extra thrust caused Carnival Pride to advance too far to the north and approach the southern end of the ships anchored above us. Listening to Channel 13, it was clear that all 15 ships were dealing with their own issues, and it would have been poor seamanship to advance into their crowded space. By now the wind was gusting into the low 80s. A pitch black night, screaming wind and driving rain gave one the feeling of being in a barrel just before it dropped over Niagara Falls. There were no outside references, only the faint glow of the ship’s two ECDIS (Electronic Display and Information Systems), which supplied all the necessary information the pilot and navigator needed. Finally, after determining that there was plenty of sea room to leeward, the bridge team stopped the engines and let Carnival Pride fall off the wind and drift south 3 nautical miles…wind on the beam, heeled over to port.
At approximately 0145 the captain decided to try anchoring the ship. This was not an easy decision as Carnival Pride’s anchors are not as robust as one might find on a merchant cargo ship, whose captain may have to anchor for days while waiting for a berth in a busy port. Passenger ships make considerable effort to avoid heavy weather. A cruise ship’s anchors are meant to be dropped and heaved back onboard in relatively calm conditions in places where tourists disembark to go on shore excursions. Carnival Pride’s two-anchor windlasses lack the power to haul anything bigger. Besides, we didn’t have anything bigger. Still, if the anchor held it would relieve some of the stress placed upon those standing watch on the bridge. The anchor was dropped at 0210 . . . and it held. Until 0550.
The wind had subsided, though it was still barreling in from the NW, gusting from the mid to upper 50s, daylight was at hand, the rain was light, and the bridge team had a sense that the worst of the storm had passed. But we weren’t in the clear yet. Not by a long shot.
Watching the ECDIS, I had noticed a perceptible movement of the ship, which gradually increased to 1.2 kts in a southeasterly direction. We had anchored in 42 feet of water with 8 shots of chain out (a shot is 90 feet, so 720 feet). Three quarters of a mile to the SE (behind us) lay the deep-water channel on the eastern side of the Bay. Years ago I had watched a ship drag anchor into the deep water cut off Cape Charles (lower Bay) and its anchor pulled free, sending it aground. Needless to say, I was uneasy about this possibility now. We had the option of dropping the ship’s second anchor, but if the anchors were to become fouled (twisted around each other) we could create more problems for ourselves. Again, the azipods and bow thruster took some of the pressure off the anchor, but on a ship the size of Carnival Pride this took time. All the while dragging, we were eventually able to hold the ship in position, 300 yards from the drop off until the wind fell off around 1000. At this point Captain Miller and I had been aboard for 24 hours. We were as relieved as the rest of the crew to see the storm move on.
At 1600, after a survey of the Baltimore Approach Channels, USCG Captain of the Port opened the Port of Baltimore to commercial traffic. We were quite pleased that Carnival Pride was invited to return first. At 1640 we were underway for Baltimore, and “finished with engines” 3 hours and 20 minutes later at South Locust Point. Both Captain Miller and I, exhausted, were anxious to return to our homes and survey them for damage from IRENE.
The professionalism of the Captain and his crew is well worth noting; an international crew working with American pilots; their skills and ours, kept the drama to a minimum and safety to a maximum.
That’s my story. It was quite a night. When the music stopped I have to admit, it had been quite a dance.
About the author: Bill Band, a graduate of SUNY Maritime College was a Bay Pilot (Maryland Pilots) for 41 years. During the course of his career Bill piloted thousands of ships, from tall ships to vessels 1200 feet in length and more than 200,000 tons.