(Linguistic not yet corrected)
MY TIME AT SEA WITH THE DEPARTMENT OF CIVIL AVIATION
AUGUST 16, 1971 - MAY 4, 1981
My last voyage with the Kryptos was followed by a time of applying for all kind of jobs. Beside this I received offers of foreign shipping companies to come into service as radio-officer, but that didn’t attract me. I could have stayed with Radio-Holland after all!
A vacancy with the Department of Civil Aviation drew my attention; they were in need of someone with a technical-administrative talent. I thought I met their need, so I applied for this job!
Their answer was that the job had been granted to a younger person (then already!) who worked at Hoogovens IJmuiden, but that they would like to meet me in The Hague to discuss the possibility of joining the radio section of the ocean station vessel. Initially they planned to place a recruitment ad, so that suited them very well. When it turned out to be one month at sea followed by three weeks leave, my interest was excited. They told me the earnings and I asked them some time for reflection, so I could consult the home front. There were mainly no objections, so I agreed and that’s how I came into service with the Department of Civil Aviation as (strange as it sounds) communication-official/radio-officer. All the details of this strange combination became clear to me much later. On August 16th, 1971, almost 5½ months after leaving the Kryptos, I sailed for a voyage to ocean station India with the m.v. “Cumulus”, a special-built ship for this kind of job.
She replaced the s.s. “Cumulus”/PBVD and was built in 1963 for the Department of Civil Aviation (RLD) by Gebr. v.d. Werf in Deest near Nijmegen; she measured 1974 GRT, had a length of 71,20 m. a beam of 12 m. and a draft of 4,20 m. There was accomodation for 52 crewmembers and she was powered by a Werkspoor 6 cyl. 1400 hp diesel, what meant 10 to 12 knots at 350 to 370 rotations of the propeller. Because the RLD was the owner, the home port became ‘s-Gravenhage. The new Cumulus served for 33 years and looked like new owing to good maintenance and the engine had made less working hours than a freighter owing to the many floating hours on the Atlantic.
s.s. "Cumulus"/PBVD, the former American frigate USS "Forsyth"
s.s. "Cirrus"/PBVC, the former American frigate USS "Abilene"
The Shipping Inspection did not meddle too much with government vessels, but in 1971 the s.s. Cirrus was removed
and since then the m.v. Cumulus was the only Dutch OSV. The Ministry of Transport and Public Works didn’t place
anymore money for a new ship. The other participating countries followed the same policy. France already had two modern ships operating (the France I and France II), Norway replaced its two museum pieces (Polarfront I/LNET and Polarfront II/LNEU) by a new ship, the Polarfront/LDWR. She is still (December 2007)operating on ocean station Mike.
The Polarfront I/LNET (or II ?)
The Polarfront/LDWR 
The France II
Great-Britain remained operate the stations with four worn out ships, that later would be replaced by less decrepit samples. Around 1970 the general opinion was that the weathership would be history very soon, also by the weather satellites that were advancing. But what the weather balloon daily achieved, was apperently not yet possible for the satellites. Now the era of the Dutch weatherships (1947-1996) finally has become history.
The assignment of the weatherships is to do weather observations, to fly weather balloons, to do oceanographic research and to maintain communication with air traffic control in Europe, the U.S.A., Greenland, Iceland and airplanes above the station area on the ocean. The exploration was, owing an ICAO formula, paid by all airline companies that crossed the Atlantic.
The ex radio-officers among the readers will undoubtly remember the yellow book List of Special Services, in which the radio beacons, the timesignal stations etc. could be found. One chapter was titled: Ocean Station Vessels. The “Cumulus” was such an OSV. Nowadays the List of Special Services looks as follows:
Part C/I
1. Direction-finding stations, 2a. Radiobeacon stations, 2b. Radar beacons, 3. Ocean-station vessels,
4. Direction-finder calibration stations, 5. Fixed-earth stations in the maritime radiodetermination-satellite service, 6. Space stations in the maritime radiodetermination-satellite service, 7. Stations transmitting time signals, 8. Stations transmitting standard frequencies, 9. Stations transmitting ursigrams
Part D.
10. Stations transmitting regular meteorological bulletins, 11. Stations transmitting notices to navigators Annex (Navarea), 12. Stations transmitting medical advice
Many a man sometimes confuses weatherships with lightvessels. Lightvessels however are situated near the coast, mostly in routes to ports of call, have a lighthouse on deck and are at anchor. Weatherships operate on the ocean, about 900 km out of the coast, without lighthouse, but again with a radiobeacon. Until not so long ago they rendered information and assistance for navigation to aircraft by means of the “weather radar” and provided them with, by the weather balloon measured, temperatures, wind velocities and wind direction in the oceanic airspace. They supplied the European meteorological services with the essential information from upper layers of the air, did oceanographic survey and kept up to date a bird journal. Sometimes there was a biological student (bird and/or plankton research) of the Leiden University on board.
Because on board was also an amateur broadcasting license (PI1LC/MM), of which Jan Fernhout frequently made use of, the following questions were asked him during his radio contacts:
“Do you lie at anchor?”
Of course a ship cannot drop the anchor due to the depth of the ocean (3000-5000m). So we floated on wind and current and by means of long distance navigation (LORAN-C at that time) and altitude and angle measuring of the sun and stars with a sextant, was calculated whether it was necessary or not to get to the centre of the grid to turn of the engines there and start floating or sailing slow ahead when the wind was too strong.
"Are your relieved by helicopter?"
This is impossible as well because about thousand kilometers off the coast is unreachable for a helicopter and in case of bad weather the relief would become a big problem. Furthermore there was no helispot on deck.
On the chart below are mentioned the positions of the Dutch lightvessels with whom the ocean station vessels or weatherships are rather often being confused.
The weatherships operated on various stations:
1. Halfway Iceland and Greenland on 62.30N 35.00W, station Alpha/4YA till July 1975
2. Halfway Norway and Iceland on 66.00N 02.00E (polar circle), station Mike/4YM, later C7M
3. 700 km WNW of Finisterre on 45.00N 16.00W, station Kilo/4YK
4. 700 km W of Scotland on 59.00N 19.00W, station India/4YL
5. 900 km W of Ireland on 52.30N 20.00W, station Juliett/4YJ
In 1975 stations India and Juliett were replaced by Lima/C7L on 57.00N 20.00W and Kilo by Romeo/C7R on 47.00N 17.00W.
Below the positions of the ocean station vessels.
Five American OSV's, namely 4YB (56.30N 51.00W), 4YC (52.45N 35.30W), 4YD (44.00N 41.00W), 4YE (35.00N 48.00W, not on the chart), 4YH (36.00N 70.00W, not on the chart).
Five European OSV's, namely 4YA (62.00N 33.00W), 4YI (59.00N 19.00W), 4YJ (52.30N 20.00W), 4YK (45.00N 16.00W) and 4YM (66.00N 02.00E, not on the chart)
The nationality letters 4Y were allocated to ICAO (International Civil Aviation Organization) and in 1975 C7 to WMO (World Meteorological Organisation).
These European station were occupied by means of a relief schema by two Dutch, two French, four British and two Norwegian weatherships. This schema was again and again composed for one and a half year and in such a way that each ship would be home for Christmas at least once in two years. The United States had coastguard-/weatherships on 4YB, 4YC, 4YD and 4YE in the western half of the Atlantic. Even in the Indian Ocean the Netherlands had in the thirties of last century a weathership with the Malayan name “Ajer Mas”, which meant goldfish. The K.L.M. operated between Mauritius and Batavia during those years and the pilots had much benefit from the weathership.
Each European ship was 24 days on station and for us Dutchmen the outward bound and homeward journey each lasted 3 to 5 days. While in port our regular place was the Parkkade, above the Maas Tunnel in Rotterdam.
After a three weeks leave we sailed again to relieve another ship. The three weeks leave between the trips did not correspond to the earned free days of weekends spent at sea. The D.C.A. (Department of Civil Aviation) however did not consider this as an important point. We (DCA-people) made five of the six journeys per year and stayed behind one voyage to enjoy a vacation.
The captain, officers and crew were delivered by the company Van Nievelt Goudriaan & Co. in Rotterdam that, besides her own fleet, had the management of the Cirrus and Cumulus for a certain amount of money. For practical and logistic reasons it would be unfeasible for the D.C.A. to operate a company itself. One Van Nievelt collegue considered the weatherships as punishment, the other as a sanatorium by which you could make lovely relaxed voyages due to little work. Till 1975 the home port of the weatherships had been ‘s-Gravenhage and from then on De Bilt. In international relation the weatherships sailed under the flag of ICAO, the organisation responsible for the safety of air traffic, and as from 1975 under the flag of the WMO, the World Meteorological Organisation.
THE RADIO SECTION
Radio beacon Old installaltion New installation Two SAIT transmitters TMC transmitter
The radioroom, in aviation called Operational Room, was situated on the maindeck behind midships and measured nine meters wide and four meters “deep”. I never had operated in such a big radioroom; this one was three or four times as big as the one on the “Bali” f.i. In a separate transmitter room behind the bridge sixteen fixed tuned LW/MW/SW/VHF/UHF-transmitters were placed in frames and could be used for telegraphy and telephony by means of remote control.
From this transmitter room nine transmitting aerials for LW, MW and SW went up. They hung between the foremast on the bridge and connected kingposts just before midships. On the foremast VHF, UHF and radar antennas. On the connected kingposts five VHF aerials for aviation. Between the middele masts and the rearmast hung five receiving aerials for MW and SW, that went behind the funnel to the radioroom. On the roof of the saloon on the bridge deck stood a box with on all sides UHF elements to receive the radiosonde of the weather balloon on 403 MHz. The aftermast contained anemometers, a horizontal and a vertical antenne from the time that the old type radiosonde still operated between 27 and 30 MHz. On top of the cabin where the weather balloons were filled on the aftship a gimballed dish aerial of the weather radar was mounted, that was also used for aircraft fixes. It all points to the fact that the Cumulus had quite an aerial park. She looked more like an espionage ship than a weathership.
The author transmitting an OBS to Bracknell with the speedkey of Jan Fernhout.
Outmost left the BX925 receiver is partly visible and right the two R1000 receivers, with the Sailor receiver in between.
Between the clock and the window a fixed 2182 KHz receiver. Outmost right one of the two SAIT S1250 transmitters.
In the radioroom were two worktables with panels, one for each telegraphist with each the same equipment: two BX-925 receivers per panel; later two of the four BX-925 receivers would be replaced by two RH R1000 receivers. In the panels were six telephone dials for the remote control with the transmitter room for dual operating with more than one crystal tuned MW/SW transmitters, so that one could choose between A1, A2 or A3.
Under the receivers was a row of on/off switches for MW, VHF and UHF transmitters and the LW beacon transmitter and volume regulators for six crystal tuned receivers . Furthermore intercoms to the bridge and the meteo unit. Also there was a VFO operated A1/A3 1000 Watt TMC transmitter for all frequencies between 2 and 30 MHz (which were not fixed tuned). The output of this transmitter went via a coaxial to an aerial tuner in the transmitter room and by means of a standing wave monitor, as used by radio amateurs, the tuner could remotely be tuned. This aerial was borrowed when the amateur transmitter was used.
Due to the introduction of SSB (Single Side Band) Radio-Holland added to the TMC transmitter two SAIT S1250 1,2 KW transmitters, that were made suitable to remain operating outside the ship’s frequency bands (f.i. on meteo-, SW aviation- and amateur frequencies). At the same time the equipment was enlarged by Radio-Holland with a Sailor crystal tuned receiver for a constant listening watch on the emergency frequency 2182 KHz and a Sailor receiver for the MW. In a cupboard in the middle of the radioroom six SW/VHF/UHF receivers were placed. Furthermore the radioroom was equipped with a bandrecorder and an AR88 broadcast receiver for news and music. Technician/radio-officer Remy v.d. Sande had next to the radioroom a workroom equipped with for that time the most modern measuring equipment, such as a HF- and LF-generator, oscilloscope, radiotube tester, digital measuring equipment, frequency counter etc. All stuff that was not to your disposal on a merchant navy ship.
Colleague Niek v.d. Blom at work
Because besides public correspondence also the transmitting of meteorological and oceanographic data to shore stations and the contact with aeroplanes had to be done, more radio-officers and a technician/radio-officer of the Department of Civil Aviation were on duty simultaneously, in contrast with the radio operations on freighters. During the years before I joined the D.C.A. eight men were on duty simultaneously on the stations India and Juliett and on the other station three to five persons. However the D.C.A. poked fun at the required radio certificates with regard to public correspondence. They took the view that the chief radio required at least the Certificate 2nd class (on a H24 ship!!), while for the others, although skilled, a Diploma Telegraphy Royal Navy would be sufficient. In fact they were unqualified on duty. But also were there radio-officers with the Certificate 2nd Class on board, while Niek van der Blom was in possession of the Certificate 1st Class.
The transmitter room
The chief radio on the Cumulus in 1965 sustained all medical tests while he used an hearing aid! During moderate telegraph communication on shortwave with Meteo Bracknell he hardly heard the difference between disturbances and morse signals with the result that a request to repeat often wasn’t noticed by him, but he signalled R TKS SU (Roger Thanks See you) and turned off the transmitter, while behind his back his collegues were watching and listening with surprise and annoyance. In 1971 he was pensionned off.
When the Cirrus (with her deaf chief radio) was taken out of service and just the Cumulus remained, affairs were put in order. Some ex navy telegraphists chose for a transfer to air traffic control on smaller airfields. One became manager of an old people’s home. Willem Kraal (ex Radio-Holland) chose for Schiphol and became chief air traffic controller with Tower/Approach. The remaining radio-officers with certificate and the technician/radio-officer were asked to change to or remain on the Cumulus and the team was completed by my arrival on board. During my first voyage (voyage nr. 68 to station India) one of the navy telegraphists stayed on board partly to teach me the job and partly to follow a mathematics course to try to fulfill the entry requirements to follow an air traffic controller’s assistant course.
Colleague Jan Fernhout at work
Niek van der Blom with Certificate 1st Class in fact was the only one who had to be appointed as Chief Radio-officer according to international regulations, because the radio service on weatherships was 24 hours. But the ex-chief of the Cirrus (with a 2nd Class Certificate) became chief radio on the Cumulus. After Niek formally objected, we found out in a new edition of the List of Ship Stations (does not exist anymore) that the classification H24 had been changed into HX (no specific working hours), without us knewing it. Recently he has finished his efforts to obtain (financial) recognition retroactively. He had to fight opposition during numberless procedures against all kind of authorities, by which he was blamed by one and wasn’t blamed by the other, but with the addition that “they” (among others his idol mister W. Kok: you must not look back to the past, but look ahead”) were not able to reverse measures.
Because the radiostation hourly received an OBS (weather observation) from the meteo and thus was open for 24 hours, there were always at least 3 telegraphists on board to transmit the data flow by means of the morse key. Besides a constant listening watch on both emergency frequencies we also were available for 24 hours a day on the aviation emergency frequencies 121,5 MHz and 243 MHz and the working frequency 126,7 MHz, plus the aviation shortwave en-route frequencies for the Atlantic on which we sometimes mediated between aircraft and air traffic control. Dependent on which station we were operating, we came under Gander, Iceland, Bodø, Shanwick or Santa Maria Oceanic Control and functioned as DCA air traffic control station.
Besides that there was, just like on merchant ships, also the public correspondence with Scheveningen Radio among others to make phone calls and exchange telegrams. Also the weatherchart of Portishead Radio/GKA in morse was received, that was drawn by the meteo people. Our meteo message were sent by us on fixed frequencies as with coaststations simultaneously on the 5, 7, 11 and 13 MHz to Bracknell Meteo/GFT, the radiostation of the British meteorological office.
On 126.7 MHz we dealt with the radio contact with air traffic and gave also radar service (position finding) if the radar was not in use for the weather balloon.
On the stations Alpha and Mike we regularly could admire the beautiful northern lights (aurora borealis). The communication on SW frequencies became bad to impossible then, so that we had to escape to MW frequencies to be able to send our meteo messages and the very long messages (86 cipher groups) that were made by data of the weather balloon. Preferably via telephony with Reykjavik Radio/TFA or Ørlandet Radio/LFO.
As far as the amount of aircraft one station was busier than the other. The stations west of Ireland and Scotland were of course busiest due to the air route Europe – North-America v.v. The amount of aircraft that required our assistance was about 2500 on stations Juliett and India. On station Mike between Norway and Iceland about 200. On station Alpha between Greenland and Iceland about 700 and on station Kilo between Portugal and the Azores about 500. The navigation equipment in aviation was not yet perfect as it is today.
The Cumulus in IJmuiden to disembark guests from Rotterdam, after which the voyage to station Mike was resumed
We had a long wave radio beacon on board to give the aircraft in time an idea at what side (north, south or overhead) they would pass us. An ocean station is a square devided in sectors of 10 to 10 miles and the pilot heard from the radio beacon with morse signals (f.i. the identification YJKK) in which grid the ship was at that moment. The center of the station was OS (On Station). This classification can be found with a drawing in the chapter Ocean Station Vessels in the List of Special Services. In above mentioned example the weathership lies on station Juliett in grid KK. Did we drift to the next grid, or had to navigate due to bad weather, we changed the identification of the radio beacon. This was done by shifting little pins on a slow turning, removeable disc till another morse letter arose. A photoelectric cell noticed on/off by means of these pins and this way the transmitter was keyed. Those position datas of course came from the mate on the bridge, who determined the position of the ship each hour while navigating or at the end of his watch while drifting.
An example of radio contact with an aircraft while on station Juliett (official position: 52.30N 20.00W):
"Ocean Station Juliett, KLM 644, good morning."
"KLM 644, station Juliett, de Cumulus, ook goeie morgen (good morning to you), go ahead."
The pilots think: hey, a countryman.
"KL 644 New York, Amsterdam, 350, departed New York 0200, estimate Amsterdam 0900, last position 53N30W
0609, estimate 5320N 20W 0645 endurance 21000 kg, track 090, groundspeed 450. Request radar fix and your
position please."
"KLM 644, station Juliett, roger. The ship's position 5222N 1942W, grid KK, my beacon on 370 kHz, the wind at 350
is 145 at 80 knots. Standby for radar."
Not long thereafter the aircraft is found on the radar
"KLM 644, station Juliett, fix at 0652: bearing 326 at 58 nautical miles."
"KLM 644, okay, ik zal even checken hoor.".... (OK, I’ll check it…..)
"KLM 644, dat komt aardig uit met wat ik gevonden heb, bedankt en tot ziens." En soms: "Moet ik nog een berichtje
voor thuis doorgeven?" (that tallies with what I’ve found, thanks and goodbye); sometimes followed by: “Can I relay a
message for the folks at home?”
Explanation: 350 is the altitude of the KL 644, so 35000 feet. Track 090 is the course, so east. Groundspeed 450: speed with regard to groundlevel (450 knots is 833 km/h). Endurance: fuel remainder 21000 KG. I give him the wind data on his altitude (because we had let flown a balloon shortly before), so on level 350 a wind of 145 degrees, 80 knots (southeasterly 80 knots = 148 km/h).
The scope of the Selenia radar for following the weather balloons and giving aircraft their fix
The mail is dropped on station by a Neptune of the Navy Aviation Department, followed by a goodbye flypast
In stormy weather the mail drop had to be postponed or cancelled once in a while, but our own meteo unit, being judge of it, did its upmost to convince the old man that the weather would be improved at the time of the mail drop. Yet it happened on the stations Mike and Alpha that the containers became invisible in a snowstorm. But we never lost one; circling sea gulls pointed out where they were! Once during a storm a container disappeared under the ship and surfaced on the other side. It was quite a job to turn the ship in order to get the container on lee side again.
There was another job that was executed by the ocean station vessels, namely Search and Rescue; they were considered as SAR-ships. The “Cumulus” had a special room in the foreship to accomodate many shipwrecked persons. Once after a plane crash the pilot of a fighter jet was taken on board, but he was already deceased.
The story of bosun Platschorre:
“Once on board we tried to apply artificial respiration and tickle under his feet with a
wire brush, but no, he was as dead as a doornail”. During the sewing in canvas the captain
said: “Don’t prick him, mind you. I answered: “Well, he’ll feel nothing of it”, after which
the deceased was taken to the freezing room.
Captain De Boer still remembers that a wounded crewmember of a burning Greek tanker, with a Dutch radio-officer on board, was taken on board of the old Cumulus by lifeboat in a rough sea.
During my time on the Cumulus no special situations occurred, except during voyage 78 on station Alpha my colleague Jan Fernhout received during his watch a distress message of Reykjavik Radio/TFA without being proceeded by DDD. (The prefix DDD means that the transmitting station itself is not in distress).
There were namely volcanic outbursts on the Vestmannæyjar islands and TFA asked ships to sail to the area to evacuate the inhabitants. We were on station, 24 hours far off the islands, but because many ships offered help our captain did not think it necessary to proceed to the islands. A pity! It is unique however that a coaststation sent a distress message for an emergency ashore.
THE METEO SECTION
The K.N.M.I. had the disposal over three groups of seven observers of the so called radiosonde unit, so one group per voyage, called “the wet crew”. Just like ashore they made for 24 hours per day weather observations (OBS) that were more extensive than those made on merchant navy ships. Just like in De Bilt they flew weather balloons four times per day, at 00 and 12 GMT with a sonde and at 06 and 18 GMT only with a radar reflector. This happens all over the world at the same time, so that the meteorologists can make a weather chart from the youngest data on various altitudes. Direct after “take-off” the balloon was catched by the weather radar. This was done by finding the direction and altitude by hand and afterwards putting it on automatic. This means that the gimballed dish aerial follows the balloon independent of the movement of the ship. Even with a hurricane force wind this was no problem. The search for an aircraft that had reported itself to the telegraphist was done manual. Of course this service could not be rendered if the radar was still occupied by the meteo following the balloon.
The launch of the 12.00 GMT balloon by Bertus Augustijn, Herman Donker and Walter Schuurman Stekhoven
Weather balloons are about two meters high and are filled in a wind free room, a kind of garage with roll-down shutter on the stern, with hydrogen that is indeed combustible, but a lot cheaper than helium. The sonde of the weather balloon contains three measure elements: the barometer with a 1050 – 5 mB range, suitable up to a height of 30 km; the thermometer, a thin round-bent thermal piece of metal that functions in accordance with the principle of shrinking and expanding and the humidity meter, consisting of a strip of lithium.
By means of a transmitter on 403 MHz data are sent to earth or ship. In the weather sonde is a coil with a long nylon wire. The beginning of the thread that emerges the sonde is knitted to the radar reflector, that in his turn hung from the balloon. The weight of the probe unwindes the coil slowly and drives this way a turning switch that switches on the three measure elements in his turn and makes contact with the transmitter.
The launch of the 18.00 GMT balloon with just a reflector
The distance between balloon and probe is constantly increasing, but that doesn’t play a part. The balloon has to reach at least a height of 16 km. Due to the ever decreasing of the outside pressure the balloon finally gets so big that he explodes. Does this happen under 16 km another balloon has to be launched. Very good ones reach 30 km. By means of the radar reflector between balloon and sonde a position is obtained and with that the direction and speed of the wind. A flight takes 1 to 1,5 hour and with much wind the distance can increase to 150 km. Strangely enough nowhere on earth a plane has collided with a weather balloon. Once though we received a report of a pilot who spotted one and asked if “that thing” was ours.
The PDP8 computer that incorporates the data sent by the radio sonde
Dependent on the weather also measurements were done to a depth of 5000 meters. The salt percentage in different layers of water and temperatures on specific levels were obtained this way. Initially this was done with Nansen bottles (topple thermometers) that by means of small weights toppled on a specific depth, so that they hang upside down. Because of this they were filled with water after which a mercury wire broke so that the values of temperature and salt percentage did not change while they were pulled up. With this method measures were taken on previously fixed depths. Later this cumbersome system was replaced by a so called CTD-meter (Conductive-Temperature-Depth meter), that takes measures every 30 cm and registrates it on a magnatic tape direct readable for a computer.
A Nansen bottle (topple thermometer) and a CTD- The Bathy is pulled up
meter are lowered at the same time. A compromise
between the old and new system.
The vertical temperature course is measured by means of a BT (Bathy thermograph), a copper grenade sized appliance that during the lowering till about 300 meters scratches on a slice of gold leaf. This BT measures the temperature and determines where the inversions are found. Inversions are like fronts in the atmosphere where temperatures in front and behind differ considerably. Submarines under an inversion are detected very hard or not at all, because sonar is reflected by that layer. Fish also search for an inversion because there the most food is found.
Our ever enthousiastic colleague Niek van der Blom transmitted, as a special service, during his dog watch a message in French on the fishery frequency for the French fisherman near station Kilo to help them to find the inversion. Sometimes he got a reaction with which he was very pleased and then ended with the advice: “Keep in touch with the Dutch”. Aircraft also regularly received this advice.
In summer sometimes oceanographers joined us to take over all the under water investigations and if the weather was calm to launch a buoy that measures wave heights. They had brought a Zodiac that was used to make short trips around the ship. When space station Skylab circled around the earth we together did wave height measures to compare with each other. Sometimes we made roundtrips with one of the four lifeboats and tested the lifeboat transmitter at the same time. In summer second Engineer Gisius had his own speedboat on deck. We made trips then on an Atlantic as smooth as a mirror, as if you were on a little lake.
RECREATION
Because of the rather monotonous life on board of an ocean station vessel on station rather many facilities for hobby’s were on board. F.i. there was a darkroom, a room with equipment for carpentry, a room for table tennis, an aviary to nurse and patch up birds that were lost, an empty cabin with an exercise bicycle, a rowing machine and of course the saloon for films, TV, video, Klaberjass, table football and parties.
Material for the carpenters among us could be ordered, so that many pieces of furniture were made or repaired. Had something to be made of metal then one could potter in the workshop of the engineroom. During voyage 77 third engineer v.d. Bijl offered me to make an iron cradle during the next trip, because Wendy had announced herself for early May. The materials ordered between the two voyages were transformed by us (but mainly by the third engineer) into a beautiful cradle, of which after Wendy also Edwin utilized.
The “sportsmen” among us frequently played table tennis what especially was spectacular during bad weather with a rolling or pitching ship. The exercise bicycle was much used as well; in course of time there were ten thousands of kilometers on the counter. The most fanatic cyclists were the meteo men Jan Roest and Ab Maas. I also added many a kilometer to the counter. When on station with a slightly rolling ship you went in succession uphill and downhill because the bicycle was placed athwartships in the cabin. Perfect for the leg muscles! Besides these sportive activities I often made pen drawings.
A pen drawing of the Cumulus made in 1974 on the basis of a picture of 2nd engineer Gisius.
It was drawn during two voyages because I only could draw during a calm sea and drifting ship.
The rowing machine stood in the saloon and was used relatively fewest. Furthermore in the saloon were a table football, a TV and a film projector. In the weekends the radio personnel showed films; for this purpose each voyage a film box was placed on board containing six films and one or two documentaries. A pleasant accidental circumstance was the fact that we could write overtime for this “work”. The TV could hardly be used of course in the middle of the ocean. During the world championships football in Argentina we sailed on purpose 100 miles east to the border of station Mike to be able to follow the games on Norwegian television with Radio Nederland Worldservice as support.
The D.C.A. had a special broadcasting license for amateur radio on board. Amateur stations on ships – identifiable by /MM (maritime mobile) behind the callsign – were much sought after for a communication, especial with Dutch amateurs. The “Cumulus” had the callsign PI1LC/MM and the “Cirrus” PI1LS/MM. Colleague Jan Fernhout (PA3CBS) made the most use it with his own Kenwood transceiver. Technician-R/O Remy v.d. Sande also is an amateur, known as PA0SAN. Meteo man Walter Schuurmans Stekhoven worked with his own transmitter with friends in South Africa during afternoon hours. A selection of rare QSL-cards from all over the world was taken home by Jan Fernhout. Besides amateur radio Jan Fernhout also busied himself with building a scale model of the Cumulus.
Fernhout working on his scale model
The most practised hobby was fishing, not so surprising at sea. Of the radio team I was the only one who angled all the time, Fernhout and chief Schipper lowered a line so every now and then. The most anglers were meteo men, such as Bertus Augustijn, Herman Donker and Jos Broeke as the most fanatic anglers with almost professional gear.
Fishing had a low priority with the Van Nievelt people; in a later phase just the baker/cook came at the railing to do his contribution to the haul. The stations we occupied were excellent fishing areas with the exception of the stations India and Juliett (west of Ireland). Station Kilo (between Portugal and the Azores) was qua diversity of fish and the mostly agreable temperature by far our favourite station. Also the stations Alpha (between Iceland and Greenland) and Mike (between Iceland and Norway) were excellent fishing areas with different kind of fish and fishing methods.
Drifting on station Kilo we fished for sharks, wreck perches, ray’s breams and squids. On our request we sailed on the day of relief very slow to the rendez-vous point to give us the opportunity to pay out lines in order to catch bonito’s (a kind of tuna). We succeeded wonderfully well, so that the gutted bonito was put into the freezer by the chief cook for later consumption at home.
A bonito (left) 39 Ray's breams (one of the most tasty fish I ever ate)
Wreck perches swim, as the name already indicates, mostly under drifting wreckage. From a smaller piece they often change to a bigger piece of wreckage. A drifting ship of course is an enormous piece of wreckage and each morning before my 0400-0800 watch I hang over the railing astern to look if there were wreck perches. If so I threw a jig (a little lead bullet with hook and feathers) into their direction and pulled it up with little jerks. Rapacious as they are they mostly went after it and then the fight could begin. They dived perpendicular down, but by means of a right adjusted brake and my pliable 35 grams rod I got them fairly quick surfaced. The loot had to be brought on deck by hand and that had to be done carefully because one wrong move and he was off the hook.
One morning a whopping wreck perch swam between four or five of the same kind, who- as being the chieftain – had te right to attack my jig first. That turned out to be a fight! Normally I had a normal sized speciman within five minutes on board, but this kingsize perch kept me busy for about ten minutes. Meter after meter he dived with the danger he would dive under the ship and so could tear my fishing line to pieces. After he came alongside totally worn out began the most difficult job, namely the pulling up. Pulling him up with the fishing line I didn’t dare, so I asked the help of the meteo man on duty. He lowered the net that we normaly used to get squids on board (later more). I dragged the tired fish above the net and the meteo man hoisted it up on board.
A big (left) and a normal (right) wreck perch (literal translated) caught by me
with a 35 grams/2.10 m. rod on station Kilo in September 1973
Although fried wreck perch tasted wonderful there was a fish that was still more tasty. The Ray’s bream (brahma brahma), also a surface fish, is one of the most tastiest fishes I ever ate. Dozens of those flat fishes (but no flatfish!) were caught by us.
Other surface fishes we caught were sharks. The gentlemen Augustijn, Broeke, Donker, Maas (all meteo men and in alphabatical order), myself and many others had equipped their boat rods with extra big reels with 30 or 40 pounds fishing line, supplied with a steel line of two or three meters (sharks sometimes roll themselves in the line) and an extra big hook with a lump of meat or caught fish on it. To lure the dangerous boys and girls a fine meshed net with fish and meat offal was thrown into the water; this enticed them to our ship. On the turnbuckle, on which the steel line was fastened, a balloon was fixed as a float. Blue sharks were the biggest catch; probably the most found kind.
One time a porbeagle shark was caught; the honour goes to Jos Broeke, who busied himself for two hours to get the beast on board. This terrible fierce fighter went several times underneath the ship, by which Jos had to go via the gangway from aft to the bow in order to keep in touch with his prey. From the bow it sometimes went back again to aft or “sharkman” dived tens of meters into the depth. Only when the beast surfaced it was possible to conclude that it was a porbeagle shark and not just an ordinary blue shark.
The porbeagle shark of Jos Broeke
The problem how to hoist such a giant on board was solved as follows. A steel noose with a cardan lock was put over the fishing line and slowly lowered in the direction of the shark till it had passed the head, after which it was tightened so that the noose closed itself behind the head. The steel (under)line was pulled up by a winch so that the shark hang vertical along the ship, after which with another noose around the tail the colossus was pulled on board.
Quite a tough job that had to be done by more than one person. Even when the beast was on board it was better to look out good. By hitting with its tail in a rather closed room on the underdeck aft it was rather dangerous to come too close near to the shark. Most of the caught sharks were however blue sharks, which in the long run turned out to be less strong than Jos Broeke’s porbeagle shark.
After sunset when it grew dark we paid our attention to the everywhere present squids. From the underdeck aft a self made light box was hung above the water by which after some time several squids appeared at the edge of the lighted area. A luminous drag was thrown just outside the lighted area and taken in with short jerks. As flashes of lightning the squids dived at the drag and with a little bit of luck they sticked to the drag. In the evening of September 18th a tree-trunk shaped squid dived on my drag and started a 15 minutes long fight. My rod had nor before nor afterwards got such a good beating as during this quarter of an hour. What a power can be developed by such a beast; for minutes the rod was bended 90 degrees while the squid was pumping and pumping. Slow but sure I managed to drag him closer and after all manoeuvre him above the already lowered net. After being put on deck the monster spurted loads of ink.
September 18th, 1973. Squid, 1.10 m., 4 kilo's
Caught squid were cleaned and frozen or eaten on board. Even big squids are very well edible if they first are battered (with a hammer f.i.). At home I did not batter them but first boiled the sliced squid before I baked them. I even took home a piece of the porbeagle shark of Jos Broeke of which our cat had delightful meals for days.
It’s not surprising that particularly the fishermen among us prefered to go to station Kilo, but during my 10 years on the Cumulus I’ve been there only twice. The station was mainly occupied by the French. From 1971 till 1982 I made 60 voyages on the Cumulus, of which 6 to station Alpha, 5 to station India, 2 to station Juliett, 2 to station Kilo and 45 to station Mike. On stations India and Juliett the fishing rods had been left at home, on station Alpha mainly redfish (or Norway haddock) and haddock were caught. This asked for a different approach. Now the reels contained 250 to 300 meters of 30 pounds line to be able to reach a depth between 100 and 200 meters while the ship is drifting. Although the situation on the stations Alpha and Mike were almost identical the opportunity to fish on Alpha was less than on Mike. Maybe this is because I never was on Alpha in summertime but both times between October and April. Of my 60 voyages on the Cumulus 75% were to station Mike. Here was fished mainly for redfish that generally swam between 100 and 200 meters deep. The less speed our drifting ship had the steeper the line stood and less line had to lowered to reach the required depth. Often the line had an angle of 30° or 40°, so the reel was almost empty. Meteo could often tell the depth of the inversion, where fish mostly could be found; that made a big difference in looking for the right depth. Had someone found the right depth then he informed his colleague fishermen.
Female salmon, 7½ kgs One day's haul of redfish
During my watch I fished as well; for that purpose I had my own niche on deck close to the window of the radioroom so that from my worktable I could see whether I had a bite by looking at the top end of my rod. The lines were provided with a paternoster (underline with 3 or 4 hooks) and some hundred grams of lead. If you were lucky you sometimes caught three or four fish at the same time that had to be hoisted by hand for about 10 meters. Besides the redfish quite regularly haddocks were caught and sporadic a coalfish, mackerel, wolffish or a lost whiting, dependent on the season. Very season sensitive was the presence of salmon on the station.
Some haddocks and their boss
Although we sailed since July 1974 continuous to station Mike our interest in salmon fishing was excited only in 1977. With us I mean meteo man Bertus Augustijn and myself. Our Norwegian colleagues on the Polarfront II (skilled salmon fishers) had told Bertus how the silver boys and girls had to be caught, such as with what material, what bait, fishing method and the times when it was meaningful or meaningless to go salmon fishing .
When spring has arrived the salmons swim in the direction of the Norwegian fjords and thus past us. During the spring voyages regularly could be counted on Bertus Augustijn and later also oceanographer Jan Schaap. From our Norwegian colleagues on one of the Polarfronts we relieved we heard then whether the salmon had arrived already.
The material and the bait (deepfrozen smelts) were purchased by Augustijn and the costs were honestly devided among the three salmon fishers, namely Bertus Augustijn, Jan Schaap and myself. For that purpose we had as a joke established Interzalm b.v., of which the three of us were director as well as employees. The spring of 1978 was not a success because the catch was nihil. Things went better in 1979; we then had the disposal of a self-made big wooden reel with hundreds of meters fishing line, every 10 meters fitted with a three-way swivel. To this swivel an underline of about 6 meters with bait was connected and a piece of polystyrene foam to keep the line floating. Finaly a line of about 200 meters had been lowered with some 15 underlines. At the end of the line a buoy was fastened and the whole caboodle was dragged behind the slow drifting ship. This line could only be lowered at night if we were sure the weather would remain calm. So it was a big advantage that one of the “directors” was a meteo man.