Day 101
Thursday 20 April. At Muscat, Oman. Clear blue sky. 38ºC. Wind Force 2 from W.
We entered Muscat at 0600 and the temperature on our balcony was already 35ºC and climbing. The port, Port Sultan Qaboose in the district of Muttrah, was very different from Dubai, being smaller and set in craggy hills and the shadow of the Western Al Hajar mountains. It rather reminded us of Madeira, with its mountainous backdrop, but in this case the hills were not verdant, but bare granite-like rocks, and that gave the whole setup a dramatic volcanic or moonscape appearance. The port had the usual container terminal but, compared to most other places that we have visited, was relatively small and there was only one small cargo ship alongside. Two large private yachts were already in the harbour when we arrived, and I presume that at least one belonged to the local Head of State as it had two funnels, was a substantial size, and had ‘Said’ written on the side. Another cruise ship, SEABOURNE ENCORE, followed us in and secured on the jetty opposite, so tourists would be swamping the town throughout the day. The port area comprised very pleasant low-rise white buildings and a few hotels, a souk, and a long promenade, making it quite attractive and unassuming. The rest of the city was tucked around a corner in the adjacent valleys and we never got to see it close to. What we could see of it from the sea looked lovely: fine buildings, forts and palaces in sandstone or white, with few structures higher than four storeys; several small craggy islands, with ancient forts on them, offshore.
Muscat is the capital of the Sultanate of Oman, the current Sultan being Qaboose bin Said. It is an important port in the Gulf of Oman, attracting foreign traders and settlers. Since the discovery of oil and the accession of the present Sultan in 1970 there has been rapid economic development and heavy investment in infrastructure, supported by a vibrant economy. My impression was that it was no Dubai, but I understand that the local Omanis contribute to society at all levels rather than being the indigenous élite, and this gives the city a more inclusive down-to-earth feel: a sort of Prosecco after vintage Champagne. The Sultan is considered to be very competent and sound.
Our intention was simply to walk ashore in the time-honoured manner, and to do that as soon as possible before the heat got worse. However, it became immediately apparent, when we viewed the jetty from above, that it would be far too hot to try such an adventure: it seemed far hotter than Dubai, and even a half mile walk would not be a good idea. A shuttle bus service was being provided and we could see the bus drivers in their long Arab gowns (cannot remember what they are called) sitting on a tartan rug in the shade between two buses, having a tea (or maybe a coffee) party, complete with pots and tiny cups. You don’t get that with Stagecoach.
So, immediately after breakfast, we left the ship and piled onto a shuttle in air-conditioned comfort. Shortly, we set off down the jetty, down to a roundabout, turned left, then stopped. There was a hearty conversation between the driver and someone else for about five minutes, then we set off again. We drove through the port entrance security gates, where a further conversation was held, then onto a roundabout, did a circuit, and went back into the port again heading back to the ship. Being British, none of us commented. We then turned right and drove along a pier, met water, and did a three point turn and came back off the pier and continued towards the ship. At the next pier we turned right again and headed for the other cruise ship, but we didn’t stop there; instead we went to a large building bearing the title, ‘Passenger Terminal’. There, the driver alighted and appeared to have yet another conversation with someone, this time coming back with a piece of paper held high, like Neville Chamberlain after Munich, which, presumably, was a map. This, I thought, is like trying to find your way out of Pompey Dockyard on a Friday lunchtime with half the caissons out. Round we went again and headed for the main port security gate, passed through, negotiated the roundabout outside, but this time we spun off like a space rocket leaving Earth’s gravitational pull on a mission to Mars and headed into town. A short journey later, we were stopping at the souk, with QM2 and the rest of the port clearly visible half a mile away. It is a mystery to me how the driver could get lost in such a straightforward journey or, for that matter, why he could not just follow the other buses (at least three passed us as we toured the jetties and wharfs).
Well we had a good walk along the promenade and briefly took in the souk (seems just like the day before yesterday that we had last visited one) and the shops on the harbour front. The area was very clean and very picturesque, the promenade being laid with colourful and spotless ceramic tiles, rather than paving slabs. A medieval fort stood high above the harbour, and we could have walked up to it, but the heat was intense and Jane – to my amazement – declared it far too hot to do anything, and felt that we should return to the ship. I never thought I would see the day, though I think the comment was made once earlier in the voyage. So we hopped on the first shuttle going back, along with a bus load of other hot and bothered passengers. We made sure that this bus was not the same as the one that brought us out: we didn’t want to end up in some distant oasis where the Nomadic tribes would pay 20 camels for a strawberry-blonde white woman, knocked down from 25 because she was a slightly used model.
Through the port security gates we went, up the road, then turned right for the other cruise ship. I felt that I was experiencing déja vu. Round we went and stopped at the passenger terminal building. “Does anyone want duty-free shop?”, says the driver in broken English, and a mob burst off the bus and shot into the building, leaving about four of us still onboard. We then drove round the corner and waited by the other door of the building. Jane and I were all for getting off then and walking the rest of the way, but suddenly the shop door opened and the passengers all trooped back out and onto the bus, chuntering as only the British can do. It turns out that the duty-free shop was shut, so they had entered the building, toured both floors, then come back out again. Finally, we made it back to the ship. There is not much adventure that you can create with a bus, 30 people, and an Arab port, but we had managed it.
Jane had not slept well last night (sore shoulder, noisy air conditioning and vibrating ship – none of which I had experienced) so, after lunch, she took the opportunity to count camels jumping over a fence. I gave her a bolster pillow to cuddle as a poor substitute for me. When she woke up, she had a touch of diarrhoea and felt duty bound to report it in case it was norovirus. So that was us for the chop then, I thought, but it turned out it was OK: only Jane would be in purdah.
A knock on the door heralded the Decontamination Team wearing disposable aprons, overshoes and masks and bearing sprays and mops Nothing to worry about then. They thoroughly cleaned the entire cabin, especially the surfaces and the bathroom, and changed all the sheets, towels and bedding. Jane was given a diet sheet for 24-hour confinement and they enforced it too; when I tried to order room service for myself, they knew we had a Contaminated Person in the cabin and initially said I could only order off the slop diet. I had to explain that the proper food was for me; the Sick Person would be having the Clear Chicken Broth with Crackers. It was all very impressive, though slightly embarrassing. I think the red cross painted on the cabin door was the worst bit; that and the handbell that she had to ring whenever anyone came near the cabin. I haven’t told her yet about the hairy sailors with deck scrubbers and lime who will come and scrub her down, lest it revive old fantasies, as yet undiscovered.
The room service tray, when it came, was a sight to behold. Out went the delicate Cunard Wedgwood china, the crystal glasses, the stainless steel cutlery and the large cotton napkins; in came paper plates and cups, light plastic bowls and cutlery, and paper serviettes. Clearly, after we had finished, the entire tray would be incinerated, with the possible inclusion of the waiter too. Trust me, you haven’t lived until you try to eat a Mediterranean Vegetable Enchilada with a thin plastic fork and drink a South African Merlot from a paper cup. I broke the fork at an early stage and had to eat the rest by hand. Jane declined to comment on the sensible Clear Chicken Broth, drunk from a plastic bowl with a tiny plastic spoon, other than to say, “Where’s my crackers?”
Darken Ship from 2300 tonight, and for the next three nights, as part of the anti piracy measures: cabin blackout curtains closed, no balcony light, and reduced upper deck lighting. This is to prevent impairing the lookouts’ night vision rather than to reduce the ship’s visual signature.
Day 102
Friday 21 April. At sea, off the SE coast of Oman, course 214, speed 23 knots. 29ºC. Wind Force 3/4 from W. Sea, Slight. Position at 0800C: 19deg 14N 58deg 35E.
The patient spent a comfortable night having slept from 2100 to 0700 without a murmur. Boy, that girl can put in the zeds, I have never seen anyone else like it; she could compete with a koala any day. Other than being ‘a bit loose’ as one could delicately describe it, Jane seems fine (must remember to tell that genie that when I said I wanted a loose woman as one of my wishes, this was not what I meant).
It is a fine sunny day with a little haze, but the relative wind across the deck is quite high and it is buffeting the superstructure quite noticeably. The higher parts of the upper deck, including the one outside our cabin, are out of bounds and even the balcony is a bit uncomfortable because of the noise. Part of the anti piracy plan is to transit the risk area at high speed, and this ship is well placed to do it as she has a top speed of 29.5 knots. Currently we are doing 23 knots, but we are still relatively safely about 50nm off the Omani coast; we may pick up more speed when we pass into Yemeni waters at 0130 tomorrow morning. It is anticipated that we may meet HMS MONMOUTH, a Type 23 frigate, on patrol at 1900 or so, so watch this space (though it will be after sunset, so maybe not much to see).
I attended a lecture on ‘Why Care About The Past’ by a Senior Lecturer in History. Wow, she was a dainty little blonde piece: not a bit like you expect for an academic. Thank heavens I can take a disinterested view of these lectures and soak up the content without being distracted by superficial appearances. It was a very good talk that highlighted ignorance of history on the part of senior politicians, and gave examples of the myths that we hold about the subject. Examples of the former included the statement by Tony Blair that, in the Blitz, the USA was the only nation that stood by us (our Dominions and the exiled conquered nations of Europe stood by us in 1940, the one notable nation that didn’t was the neutral USA); the statement by Donald Trump that relations between the USA and Russia were at an all-time low (gloss over the Bay of Pigs and the Cuban Missile Crisis); and the comment by David Cameron that the British Isles had never been invaded since 1066 (we have been invaded thirteen times, the last – briefly – by the French in 1797, and once by the Americans). Of the myths, a notable one was the belief that our forefathers went through the same hopes and fears as we do: not true. Our prejudices and emotions of love do seem to endure, but our concepts of science and beauty have changed enormously. Overall, it was a very thought-provoking presentation given in a slick and knowledgeable style, and I will certainly attend her next lecture. Maybe Mrs Shacklepin will be out on remission by then.
Lunch alone in the dining room was not a lot of fun, but then nor were the cream crackers on a paper plate that Jane had in the cabin. We spent the rest of the day together, just reading and I skipped dinner (I could lose some weight anyway). The sickbay called and said that if there had been no ‘reoccurrence’ by 0630 tomorrow, then Jane would be released. The sanitation team arrived to do the evening clean (still in the masks and overshoes) and said that, if Jane got the ‘all clear’, they would need to come in tomorrow to do a deep clean that would take one and a half hours. The rendezvous with HMS MONMOUTH did not come off, but we would not have been able to see her anyway: the upper deck was out of bounds because of the wind.
Day 103
Saturday 22 April. Sunny, 30ºC. Sea, Slight. Gulf of Aden, heading SW.
Joy! Jane has been released from quarantine and the decontamination team are fumigating our cabin as I write. It is a very full lecture programme today, with four lectures almost in succession. Quite a change from the previous two weeks, when there was little of interest worth watching. It is going to be like being back at college today.
Nature was obviously celebrating Jane’s return too, because we were rewarded by the sight of a school of dolphins accompanying the ship as we sat down to breakfast. We normally like to watch the blue tits feeding as we eat breakfast at home, however I think dolphins might just top that.
The first lecture was on ‘History and the Crisis of ISIS’ and the Illuminations cinema was packed out for it, with people sitting in the aisles and standing at the back. I am surprised that it was not held in the theatre, which is slightly bigger. I will not summarise the lecture as it was so comprehensive and complex, compressing 1,500 years of Islamic rivalry and ambition into 45 minutes. The key bits I remember were the rivalry between ‘heretic’ Shiite (Iran, Syria, Lebanon mainly – about 10% of Muslims), and Sunni (The Rest); the mistake of destabilising the region by taking out Saddam in Iraq; the danger of repeating the mistake by doing the same with Sadat in Syria; and the naivety of believing that the Arab Spring was heralding the rise of liberalism and Western values. The broad aims of ISIS are to return to the days of an all-embracing Sunni Caliphate that does not recognise frontiers, the defeat of Iran and Shiites, and a return to the conquests of Europe that were achieved in medieval times.
The next lecture was about the two least known spies of WW2. Both were very different, one being a double agent of Spanish nationality who supplied the Germans with a mountain of deceptive information; the other being a Polish woman who was very much a femme fatale, action heroine and very brave woman. I had heard of the Spaniard, code name ‘Garbo’, who managed to get medals from both the Germans and the British, and was still alive to be fêted in the early 1980s. The Polish girl, on the other hand, was treated rather shabbily by the British after the war and suffered a tragic aftermath to her courageous service. She was not given preference to gain British citizenship, and worked variously as a telephonist, a shop assistant in Harrod’s, and as a ship’s stewardess, before being murdered by a lover in 1952.
Lecture three, before a late lunch, was the start of a series of talks on civil engineering matters starting with the Seven Wonders of the British Canal System. It was a good talk and we chatted to the lecturer afterwards. He had been doing these talks on cruise ships for seven years, apparently.
We managed about two minutes of sunshine as we transited the upper deck to our cabin after lunch, before we were off again to the next serial – this time in the Royal Court Theatre. It was a classical concert called Piano à Dieux and comprised, funnily enough, a man and a woman playing the piano. This proved to be a light-hearted rendition of old favourites, with a few corny jokes thrown in. It was well done and very entertaining.
Onward to the final lecture of the day, ‘Exploration in the Arabian and Western Deserts’. Poor delivery with boring content – it could have been so much better. I refer the honourable reader to my comments of a few days ago regarding taking an interesting subject and making a complete dog’s breakfast of it.
Black Tie dinner in the evening was very pleasant and Jane wanted to go on to listen to a guitarist/singer, but we missed the start. We did go along afterwards and listened at the door. He was awful, and so was the band. Phew! Glad we missed that one: listening to that for 45 minutes would be a real penance.
Day 104
Sunday 23 April, St George’s Day. Bright sunny day, 32ºC. Sea, Slight. We are in the Red Sea, about a quarter of the way up. Clocks were retarded yet again to Charlie time last night, so we are only two hours ahead of UK now.
We transited the Bab al Mandab at midnight last night at 24 knots and, looking at the chart, I was surprised how narrow it was: perhaps 20 nm – the same as the Straits of Dover. We are still clipping along at 24 knots as I write, evidently trying to clear the pirate waters as quickly as possible, but there is no additional vibration or noise and the ship remains as steady as a rock.
Off to church in the morning, then to the second lecture by our visiting historian, this time on The Tudors. Lunchtime brings a talk on ‘Why We Have a Royal Navy’ by our Royal Navy Liaison Officer (RNLO).
The church service was taken, this time, by the Deputy Captain – a painfully shy Italian who is rather difficult to talk to and never smiles, yet who must have hidden talent as he is only 28 and has reached high rank quickly. It was, as ever, a stirring service with good hymns, lasting thirty minutes and quite a few people came along.
The talk on The Tudors was excellent and, again, it was a full house. I will not even attempt to summarise it other than to say that our lecturer contended that the Tudor period was a significant point in our history, notable because of the break with Rome. That break led the country to look outward, away from Europe, to develop a navy, and to discover new lands. She drew an interesting parallel between that event and Brexit, which I hadn’t thought of, but might be true: a rejection of control by those outside our country.
Well, I suppose we had to attend the talk on the Royal Navy by the RNLO (who, by the way, joined us in Colombo and brought his wife along). There was a good turn out, with the Illuminations cinema virtually full, so there is still an interest in the Service. Not a bad delivery, though he was inhibited by having to read the official script. It was certainly informative and, from what I could hear, people seemed to appreciate it.
We did the planetarium after that – ‘Life in other Universes’ – and Jane stayed awake throughout. I think that might be all the programmes we have seen now, each one with a different narrator (this one was Tom Hanks). We had missed lunch, what with all the excitement, and Jane was feeling thirsty. So we headed up to the Commodore Club for a fortifying gin and tonic – though Jane had a Coke. In the absence of solid food a good snifter or two will always satisfy. A feeling of guilt descended at this point (it might have been the depressive effect of alcohol), because we had not been outside at all today, so we spent 20 minutes in the blazing heat on 14 Deck, scanning the horizon for icebergs. We did see the Captain lying on a sun bed incognito, sans stripes and cap, accompanied by a mature lady in a bikini who – we presume – was his wife (mind you, you can never tell with sailors). Clearly the Captain, who is due to retire after this trip, is starting his Run Down Period (RDP) early. One thing we did notice as we sailed along was clumps of yellow weed of matted appearance, like a flattened sponge – presumably a characteristic of the Red Sea. Of course, sponge is maybe what it was.
A rare ‘first’ in the dogwatches came in the form of a new(ish) film in the cinema: Bridget Jones’ Baby. Sequels and sequels-of-sequels are usually not as good as the original, but this one was an exception and actually quite funny. It had Jane laughing out loud – a rare occurrence.
Something happened during dinner, but I am not sure what! There was definitely an increase in power for about ten minutes, then a marked reduction. The people on the next table went up to investigate and said later that we had slowed while a boat came alongside, presumably to embark or disembark person or persons. Much mystery, as we are right in the middle of the Red Sea and I would have thought not needing a pilot yet. We have started a rumour that we had rendezvoused with a nuclear submarine – see if it whips round the ship.
We were finally allowed out on the promenade deck in the evening, but the deck lighting was still reduced, with lookouts posted, so we are not quite out of the wood yet.
Day 105
Monday 24 April. Misty start, 29ºC. Wind Force 8 from NW. Sea Rough. The wind has backed or veered after yesterday, when it was from behind us. It is now on the port bow, making walking on those decks that are not out of bounds difficult. We are about half way up the Red Sea, according to the chart, and tripping along at 22 knots. Position at 1400: 23deg 0.3 N, 36deg 41.8E
Another lecture day. Like buses, the good lectures on this return trip have been scarce, but then, suddenly we get about three all at once.
First, Part Two of the talk on ISIS, describing the expansions and rivalries of the Islamic world in the Middle East up to WW1. It was interesting to note that, before the coming of Mohammed in the 7th century, the whole Mediterranean region, including (of course) the Holy Land was Christian. Moreover, the North African countries did not consider themselves as being Arab. Arabs came from what is broadly now Saudi Arabia. The Egyptians, in particular, considered themselves to be above Arabs until the rise of Nasser and his coup at Suez in 1956. After Mohammed, the expansions began and all of Northern Africa and the Holy Land was conquered, as was all of Spain. The Islamic expansion even got as far as the gates of Vienna before it was stopped. Islam also spread to Persia, the hated enemy of Arabs, and to what is now modern Turkey, and the Ottoman Empire. Just to be awkward, perhaps, the Persians adopted Shiite Islam, a religion which is regarded by the majority Sunni Muslims as being heretical. So we have a pot mess of Sunni Muslims hating Shiites, Persians hating Arabs and vice versa, the Turks an unknown quantity that is becoming less secular, and all of them hating the Kurds.
Our historian concluded her talk on The Tudors by addressing the paradox of Henry VIII: a monarch who, according to all reports, was handsome, agreeable, witty and accomplished as a young man, yet turned into a fat, suspicious, despotic tyrant. Our lecturer contended that the change came after January 1536 when Henry was injured in a jousting tournament and knocked unconscious for two hours. Notwithstanding whatever brain injury he might have sustained, Henry never jousted again and became less physically active – hence the huge increase in his weight. The injury also opened up an old wound that never healed, so he was constantly in pain from then on. Everything went wrong for him in 1536: the injury; the death of Katherine of Aragon; Ann Boleyn had a miscarriage, she was accused and convicted of adultery and treason, then executed; Henry’s 45th birthday, which was classified as old age at the time; his illegitimate son, the Duke of Richmond, whom he favoured as an heir, died suddenly. All in all, 1536 was not a good year and Henry’s behaviour just got worse and worse from then on. Good lecture.
Our WW2 spies lecturer of a few days ago, gave us a talk on the mistakes and disobeyed orders that were made in the sinking of the BISMARK. He spoke well, and some of his facts were reasonably sound and even revealing, but he betrayed a lack of knowledge of naval matters that let him down. For example, he said it was a mistake to send cruisers after BISMARK in the Denmark Strait because they did not have the firepower, range or armour; however they were not meant to sink her, they were sent to shadow her, which was the traditional role of a cruiser. He also said it was a mistake to send HMS HOOD because of her limited armour, yet HOOD was the only ship we had available with the firepower and speed to do the job. All in all, not bad, but his errors eroded his credibility.
As we went in to lunch I glanced out of the window and noticed that the white horses had come out with a vengeance and the swell had increased markedly. It was definitely rough out there, and I learned later that the wind had increase to Force 8 (Gale). We passed a large bulk carrier at one point and the spray was coming over her bows as she punched along. Yet our ship’s motion was unaffected: no pitching, no rolling, confirming my belief (expounded in Blog 1) that if you ever have to go across the Atlantic, then this is the girl to be in. She is a beautiful seaboat. Funny really, for some reason you do not expect to meet a northwesterly Force 8 gale, and angry battleship-grey seas, in the Red Sea.
Our final lecture of the day was by our civil engineer lecturer on the subject of the Suez Canal. Again, he spoke fluently of the history of the canal, starting with the first attempt by one of the Pharos several hundreds of years BC. Contrary to popular belief, de Lesseps was not the engineer who built the canal; de Lesseps was actually the French Consul to Egypt at the time. He whipped up support to fund the project and most shares were bought by France and Egypt. Britain did not support the project (‘not invented here’), but did buy up all the Egyptian shares when they came on the market after Egypt suffered financial difficulties. The canal was opened in 1869 and, initially, operated on a one-way basis with passing places at the lakes that the canal passes through. It has since been given a ‘dual carriageway’ in places to facilitate two-way traffic (one modification as recent as 2014), but other parts are still one way. Passage is by convoy. The lecturer also gave a potted history of wars that have affected the canal, starting with the Nasser take-over in 1956 and covering the Six-day War and the Yom Kippur War. I will not rattle out statistics, as you can just as easily look them up yourself. I will write more on the subject after we have been through it on Thursday.
We arrive in Aqaba tomorrow, where we are off for a long excursion to Petra: the ancient city where Indiana Jones saved his father by giving him a drink from the Holy Grail. Aqaba is Jordan’s only seaport and it lies at the top of the Gulf of Aqaba, and from the anchorage four countries can be seen at once: Egypt, Israel, Jordan and Saudi Arabia. I will end this blog at this point and start the next one with our adventures in Petra.
"A Very Vintage Chap..." 