Here are some pics from the ‘E’s’ official blog photographer, (me).

The story-board: The story involves a female passenger who works for the bank. She meets a male passenger who manufactures life-jackets. He’s looking for funding and she suggests ING. Hey, it could happen!

The ING lions in action.

The lions taking a break from the 90-degree heat. From left: Gede Bakat, dining and crew care, and Yonko Ivanov, assistant dining room manager.

Our motley crew as extras. Emeil de Vries, chief officer, on left, calling out names. (He’s wearing make-up — the poor man will never live it down.) The actress is centre, with skirt. Right with beard is Bauke Lijklema, 2nd electrician; next to him, Henk de Jong, IT officer. Gerben Eerkes, 3rd engineer, is behind Bauke; Ed Van Weijen, chief electrician and blog board member, at the back with sunglasses.

Our vacation is all about Jeroen tackling “The Honey-Do List,” as Captain Mercer calls it. These are all of the retrofit home enhancements that need to be done in the house but not necessarily all projects are at the request of “the honey.”

Moreover, in a house less than a year old, we are attempting to get it ready for the Dutch family members that are flying over for Christmas. I am so fortunate that Jeroen is not only a navigator, he is the electrician, the plumber, the tile setter and the IT techie with about five projects going on simultaneously.

Jeroen took a break from his tools to help with a project that was not on his Honey-Do List and not something that he was overly excited about, unlike myself. Carving pumpkins has always been a fun family project for me growing up, but for a Dutchman who has hardly ever carved pumpkins, the thought of removing pumpkins seeds and stringy pumpkin guts was not his idea of a fun pre-Halloween evening.

I started carving using a traditional knife, cutting out the top, then the eyes, etc. Then I heard what sounded like a drill noise coming up from the basement and becoming louder as he approached upstairs where I was pumpkin carving. With a revving electric drill in hand he started to “drill-carve” his own unique pumpkins! I exclaimed he was a “cheater,” albeit I have to admit it was far less arduous than my manual work and safer, too, as six small knife cuts on my hands testified.

When we finished carving and drilling, we placed the finished jack-o-lanterns on the front porch and lit them up with flameless candles that have the same effect as real candles, flickering and all. They were quite a hit with the trick-or-treaters and the neighborhood kids.

As a Dutchman living in the U.S., and celebrating traditions he is not accustomed to, I really admire Jeroen for approaching our strange customs with his Dutch gusto and his American drill!

Maria Mendez, deputy director of the Port Authority of San Juan (representing the governor) and Captain Mercer.

Marijo Laborae, deputy director of Puerto Rico Tourism, and Captain Mercer.

Donato Alvarez, vice president of Continental Shipping (the port agent), and Captain Mercer.

One question that frequently pops up in my ‘meet the Captain’ sessions is how does one become a captain. It got me thinking that if this question is so frequent, then maybe it ought to be a blog post.

My path to command is not untypical of someone of my generation, however, over the years, the certification process has developed, (or changed). Younger, up-and-coming officers have various paths they can follow to achieve the same result. One thing still common to all of us in my generation is that beautiful piece of leather-bound vellum from the Department of Transport — my Masters Ticket, or licence. Back in 1995, they changed even this, bringing a common format to all licences, or CoC, so I now carry with me my ‘old’ original, my ‘new’ 1995 version and a Dutch licence, which entitles me to command a Dutch-flagged vessel.

My training started with me being indentured to a British shipping company, one with hundreds of years of history, an honourable war record, (if having 60 percent of their vessels sunk and their crews killed by enemy action can be called ‘honourable’), a reputation of being second-to-none and 84 ships under their flag.

I joined as a cadet and in those days, one had to ‘meet the Board’, which entailed a trip to London and the Head Office, looking down an enormously long table surrounded by gentlemen dressed in tailor-made suits, all of which was very imposing to a 19 year-old. Obviously satisfied with me, I then was sent to a sea-school, or in my case, the School of Navigation, Warsash, (which is near Southampton, England). The school was very regimented; we had 6 o’clock morning runs and once a month had to stand guard-duty at the main gates, dressed in full uniform, with gaiters and webbing belts and a Lee-Enfield .303 rifle, (unloaded). Later on in life I recall that it was just as well it had no bullets, heaven knows what we would have got up to had we had a full magazine.

I was at the school for a year, learning everything that one would expect, (except how to stop an infiltrator with an unloaded rifle). Navigation, stability, electronics, seamanship, physics, chemistry — an endless list. I well remember the ‘etiquette’ classes and in particular the ‘dance’ lessons, for this involved young ladies from the local private school attending, (the school at that time was all-male, females just didn’t go to sea in those days). The evening was anticipated with relish for days ahead and was always fun, a formal dinner followed by the lessons themselves, all of us with two left feet, however, the fact that we had ladies, in evening dress and smelling like roses, more than overcame any ‘stumbling’. Chaperones watched us like hawks, ‘corralling’ any wayward ‘strays’ back into the fold. ☺

Clan Sutherland, my first ship.

After a year, I went to sea. The company had several ‘cadet’ ships, 12-passenger cargo ships, converted to take cadets and a Training Officer to sea. Mine was the “Clan Sutherland”, a beautiful steamship, built in 1950, with a specialised heavy-lift ‘Stulken’ derrick, with which we could lift 165-tonne weights, (locomotives and cracking-plants for refineries were our most common cargoes), apart from cargo holds for general cargo. I well remember joining her in King George V dock in London, so busy that ships were double-banked (alongside each other). Now, when you fly in to London City airport, it is a wasteland, the buildings gone, rubble now.

My first ‘voyage’ was to Hull, on the east coast of England, in a storm no less and my first experience of seasickness. We then sailed to South Africa and East Africa, before going to the Mediterranean and then back again, 18 months in total. I and my fellow cadets had the time of our lives while learning everything there was to know about life at sea while continuing our formal training under our Training Officer. I could write a whole book about that one voyage, it’s as clear to me as if it were yesterday and the most wonderful experience.

Constance Bowater

After some leave, I returned to sea, this time on a smaller ship, the “Constance Bowater”. She specialised in carrying paper products, be it newsprint, lumber or anything associated with the paper industry. It was on her that I ran out of Corner Brook, in Newfoundland, to the Great Lakes and, if you read the blog, it was there I returned, on the ‘E’, some 30 years later, little did I know then that I would command such a massive vessel. Had I known, I might have had second thoughts on my chosen career ☺

I returned to Warsash for six months, for my ‘mid-cadet-release’ period, basically brushing-up on what I had already learned and preparing for my first ‘ticket’ (licence) exam. Then back to sea. One had to obtain ‘sea-time’ before one went to college, studied for six months and then took the exam, a weeklong process, overseen by the Department of Transport and rigorous in its method. It also involved an ‘oral’ examination from a DoT examiner, grilling you for what seemed like hours on every aspect required of us. I can still remember the elation of holding that licence in my hand.

My first watch was on the “Clan Grant”, out of London, bound for East Africa and later it transpired, India. I took over the watch near Dover, England, with ships coming at me from every direction, and although we only managed only 14 knots, I wished it were 13 knots less! I left the bridge that night both exhausted and elated.

Good Hope Castle

I had three years of sea-time to log before I could sit for the next exam, the ‘First Mate’ ticket. My travels took me mainly to South Africa, Union Castle line was part of our group and then ran the ‘Mail’ boats, or a scheduled run with several ships, each leaving Southampton, England, on a Friday and returning five weeks and two days later. The majority were passenger ships, on which I spent some time. Two others were smaller, very fast cargo ships and it was on these that I mainly served and incidentally, had the dubious distinction of abandoning into a lifeboat, following a fire, which we fought for 24 hours.

Then, back to college for six months and sitting for my ‘First Mate’s’ licence. More sea-time was required before I could sit for my ‘Masters’ licence; more travelling around the world, this time on container ships and bulk carriers, until in 1979, I sat for the exam. My hands were shaking the day I received the leather-bound document, inscribed with beautiful scrolling, entitling me to command a vessel of any size, anywhere in the world.

Of course, it is unlikely that one would be given command of a huge cruise or passenger vessel at so ‘tender’ an age. By 1979, the 84 ships of the fleet had dwindled to a mere few. Containerisation and the fuel crises, (yes even that long ago), had taken its toll. I reluctantly left and joined a company operating ferries out of Southern England. I had time nearer home and the salary was good. I took a demotion to go there, however, it was such fun.

Very soon after my joining, I had the opportunity of ship-handling, the very thrill of it. This continued throughout my time. It was without doubt the very best training one could receive, in all weathers — rain, fog, gales — the like of which could be so severe that other vessels would not even try to dock.

It all culminated in my being promoted to Master in 1987 and, like that first-ever bridge watch, is as clear as if it were yesterday. The one item I remember above all else was the fact that this time, there wasn’t a man standing beside mw with four stripes, to whom you could devolve responsibility, it was you and you alone who bore that heavy burden.

Photos courtesy of Jonathan Mercer.

The pool at the Grand Turk Cruise Center.

Photos courtesy of Steve Garrod

While you would fully expect the public bars aboard Eurodam to be staffed with talented bar keepers, we sometimes forget that there are crew venues behind the scenes that require staffing as well, like the Officers Bar. Meet Joko “Kees” Budiono, the OB barman. We met Kees during our visit to the ship, and we just learned from Hotel Manager Stan Kuppens that he’s been named Eurodam’s November employee of the month!

Kees started with Holland America Line in 2006 working in the crew mess aboard Volendam. On his second contract, he went to Statendam and became the OB barman. Currently, Kees is in the middle of his third contract with HAL.

According to Stan, Kees’ favorite part about working as the OB barman is being able to talk with the crew, and his favorite drink to make is a margarita. He thinks it is important to work hard and learn everyday; there is no limit to learning. Kees was born in Jakarta, Indonesia, where he lives today.

Sushi is prepared fresh for Tamarind diners.

We are on our way back towards Half Moon Cay, having had a lovely few days, excepting Grand Turk. There, the wind was a-blowin’ and docking was tricky. More so while we were alongside, because the wind shifted to our beam (90° on) and was doing its best to strain our lines and blow us off. Consequently, I had to start our Azipods and thrusters to hold her against the pier — this went on for two hours.

Getting out was just as tricky. The wind was still blowing and I was concerned as to whether I could go astern fast enough to ensure that we were clear of the reef, towards which the wind would blow us. I had a discussion with Emeil, my Chief Officer and second-in-command, along with the officers who would be at stations fore and aft. I intended to find out, before I left the pier, if I could hold the ‘E’ sufficiently upwind to avoid ‘falling down’ towards the reef.

The plan was to slack off our mooring lines sufficiently (and without letting them go off their bollards) and then see if I could hold her. If not, then I still had the mooring lines out and we could pull her back alongside. Having told the linesmen ashore what the plan was, we put it into action. Lines went slack, thrusters and pods pushed against the pier and the all-important anemometer was watched — 30, 33, 34 knots loomed on the screen and then, just when I thought we were stuck there, a sudden shift appeared nearer the bow and we were suddenly with less windage.

Without further ado (and a second to thank Him for the opportunity), we let go our lines. I had already started the ‘E’ going astern, even before the lines were inboard, as there was not a second to waste. With the power being used, she ‘leapt’ out of the slot and by the time our bow passed the pier, we were doing 5 knots. Thank goodness for Azipods and their responsiveness and ability to go astern as well as ahead. I doubt whether a conventional-drive ship could have done it.

Since then, the remainder of the cruise has been uneventful except for me, for I have the pleasure of having my two daughters, Samantha, (Sam) and Elizabeth, (Liz) on board. They are both adults now, of course, however, no matter how old they are, we dads know they will always be our ‘babies’.

Sam on the left, Liz on right.

Sam is married and her husband, Antony (Ant) is with her, Liz is single (for the time being), however, she has her long-term boyfriend, Lawrence, with her. They live in England and although I see them as often as I can, having them with me is a wonderful experience.

In San Juan, from left, Liz, Lawrence, Sam and Ant.

I wrote earlier that the cruise was ‘uneventful’. Well, this is not quite true, for while walking through the Old Town of San Juan, Lawrence appeared somewhat preoccupied. Eventually he dropped back alongside me and in a nervous voice, asked my permission to ask Liz for her hand in marriage. Of course I gave my blessing without a thought, Liz, oblivious to it all was window-shopping without a care in the world.

That evening, the four of them went ashore for a meal. To cut a long story short, Lawrence managed to find a romantic park near the restaurant, and taking Liz aside, went down on bended knee. Just as he did so, one of the many ‘homeless’ people in San Juan, appeared from nowhere and, having seen the innocent tourist on his knee, decided at that moment to run up to them and ask for a ‘contribution’. For once Lawrence was at a loss for words, but he ‘politely’ told the man to go away while he conducted more important business.

Liz accepted and when they came back to the ‘E’, we all laughed our heads off about the incident. I had asked Murat, our Beverage Manager, to have a bottle of champagne at the ready, which was perfect for the occasion. As I was ‘driving’, a sip and a toast was all for me and then I left them to it.

As an addendum, Liz spent the day in St. Thomas looking at diamonds and rings, in the company of Sam. We sailed at 5 o’clock, but by 4:30 Liz had a ring set and ready, and her left hand has been prominent ever since.

What, not the left hand again!

The “Amsterdam” is slightly different in concept, in that the Captain has to chose beforehand which pod he is going to use as his ‘maneuverable’ one, the other stays fixed in the fore-and-aft line.

Below is a picture of the ‘E’s” starboard pod. It always amazes me that something so small in diameter can drive so large a ship through the water.

Azipod is the registered brand name of the ABB Group for their azimuth thruster. Originally developed in Finland by Wärtsilä dockyards, these are marine propulsion units consisting of electrically driven propellers mounted on a steerable pod. The first cruise ship fitted with this system was “Carnival Paradise”, way back in 1998. Since then the system, after some initial teething challenges, has become the norm for our Carnival group of companies.

The pod’s propeller faces forward, (the propeller is more efficient oriented that way). In addition, because it can rotate around its mount axis, the pod can apply its thrust force in any direction. Azimuth thrusters allow ships to be more maneuverable and enable them to travel astern nearly as easily as they can travel forward. In fact, almost 70 percent of my dockings involve going astern down waterways or into dock slips.

In the traditional azimuth propulsion system the electric motor is located inside the ship’s hull and rotation is transferred to the propeller through a gearbox. In our Azipod system the electric motor is installed inside the pod. The propeller is connected directly to the motor shaft. No gearbox is required, thus providing greater efficiency.

Electric power for the Azipod motor is conducted through slip rings that allow the Azipod to turn through 360 degrees. Because fixed-pitch propellers are used in Azipods, power for the pod is always fed through a variable-frequency drive that allows speed control of the propulsion motor.

When the ‘E’ is at full speed, the Azipods act just like a ‘powered’ rudder and have conventional characteristics, with a maximum rudder angle of 35 degrees, however, because it is ‘powered’ (and therefore very responsive), when at full speed, only 2 or 3 degrees of rudder are required.

The Azipods have an output of 24,000 horse power (or 17.6 mega-watts) each when at full speed, or ‘open sea’ mode. When maneuvering and rotational, they are stepped down to 10 MW or 13, 500 hp each.

We have three bow thrusters, each of 2,500 hp or 1.9 MW each

With the combination of these thrusters forward and the Azipods aft, the ‘E’ becomes an extremely maneuverable ship. In fact, the combination has drastically changed established ship-handling maneuvers and captains can think ‘outside the box’ when finding themselves in awkward or unconventional situations.

They are not infallible, of course, and the ‘E’, like our Vista class, has far more power available from her Azipods than forward in the thrusters. As a consequence, in higher wind situations, control of the bow will be lost long before control of the stern. The ‘E’ is unique, (for the time being), in that we have additional superstructure and as a result, more ‘windage’ (the area which acts as a sail), and I am always wary of wind direction and speed. Having sailed on other Vista-class ships, I know they will push bodily upwind at wind speeds of 25 knots on the beam. The ‘E’, with its additional ‘sail area’, will manage 20 knots, and those 5 knots of wind can be make or break when docking, or conversely, getting off a pier.

One of the many beautiful alleyways in the Old Town.

The locals enjoying the shade of a tree.

Old San Juan from the bay.

El Morro from San Juan Bay as the ship passed.