Dublin, Uncovered

Posted by Dave at 08:40 AM, November 05, 2004

(C) Greenpeace

It's a Sunday morning. Unlike the last few Sundays, when we've been hanging out with trawlers and dead fish, today we embrace civilisation, for better or for worse. Over the last few days, we've braved storms out near Rockall; on Friday afternoon, we lots of dolphins around us, and in the dark, had sailed down between the coasts of Ireland and Scotland (a channel so narrow, you can see right across). On Saturday, we had stopped off near Bangor, just outside Belfast, to put some crew ashore. We might have been a few miles from the coast, but it didn't take long for word to get round - a local radio station called us up to see what we were doing there.

On Saturday night, the Esperanza's engineers put on a fine 'soiree' (though the Spanish contingent did complain about the lack of dance music), and all attendees were promoted to 'Chief Engineer', for the evening. The Espy must be the most happening ship on the Irish Sea.

But back to Sunday morning - I'm standing out on the port bridge wing of the Esperanza looking into a thick fog, trying to make out the twin chimneys of Ringsend power station. I can't see anything, except the occasional navigation buoy, a few gregarious birds, and a lone seal. I was looking forward to the approach to Dublin - the islands of Lambay (and its wallaby population) and Ireland's Eye; the peninsula of Howth, and to the south, the Dublin and Wicklow Mountains.

But no, we can see none of this. Even when the pilot boat approaches, it seems to materialise from the chilly murk. The pilot deftly steps aboard the Esperanza, and his boat vanishes again. As he approaches the bridge, I can hear his cheery Dublin accent - it seems weird having another Irishman on board, after all these weeks of unfettered globalisation. In the bridge, the pilot coordinates with Jon, the captain, guiding the Esperanza safely into the mouth of the River Liffey. We've got crew watching for confirmation sightings of the marker buoys, they're so hard to see. It's dazzling, watching for dark shapes. Before we know it, a huge ship is thundering past our port side - the Ulysses, a massive car ferry. There's still no sign of any landmarks, like the chimneys.

According to the radar and GPS we're already inside the north and south walls that bracket the port entrance. But we can't see either, just the vague outlines of some oil terminals. Massive cargo ships loom large from the fog...

And then, suddenly we're in Dublin. The East Link Bridge is raised to let us through, and I can see some racing cyclists stopped, waiting to cross. One raises his hand to wave. I only find out afterwards that - by coincidence - it's a bunch of my old cycling teammates gathering for a training spin.

The pilot guides the Esperanza up to Sir John Rogerson's Quay - I don't have much time for sightseeing, I'm down on the main deck, dropping down fenders between the ship and the wall. Afterwards, I climb up to 'monkey island' - above the bridge, and take a look at the city. There's so many tower cranes, the city looks like one big building site. Up the quays towards the city centre, I can see my old office, high up in a green glass building.

I've lived in Dublin since 1993, and have always worked around the city centre. Today, I've commuted to the middle of Dublin, on board the Esperanza. What a strange job this is...

- Dave