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Onslow, as blasting proceeds

Thales of Miletus lived over 2500 years ago, one of ancient Greece’s “Seven Sages”, he bequeathed to the world many ideas in the fields of politics, ethics and business, but from my desk here at Garden Island, his cosmological beliefs and his contribution to geometry are primary in my mind. The Thales Group, the company that now operates the docking facilities at GI has a world wide presence whose origins lie in electronics. With the company’s comparatively recent entry into shipbuilding came the adoption of the name Thales and seems no where more appropriate than right here. According to Aristotle, Thales believed that everything had water as its origin, an idea that perhaps resonates better in contemporary Australia than in ancient Greece, he is also recorded as measuring the height of Egypt’s pyramids by the length of their shadow. The meshing of ideas in the mind of one ancient polyglot is embedded in the actions all who labour under the banner of Thales. Through the application physics and maths we affect change on a maritime subject but perhaps it is only ideas that are beyond the reach of entropy and we work in vain to protect Onslow from the ravages of this temporal existence?

Detail of the graving dock

Like a vestige of Atlantis rising through a receding tide, the steps and galleries of the dock glisten, a fine slurry settles upon the floor, the saturated pores of the concrete walls linger longer in a moist state. Bright orange lines squiggle across the opaque water whose umbilical purpose is only revealed on the occasion of a tethered aquanauts surfacing. They prowl the depths sending dispatches to the watchful dock master on the progress of descent while shoreside workers ease lines aligning the sub on the accumbent plane.  Eight hours of pump out has delivered Onslow gently to her cradle, soft wood crushing pieces, on hard wood blocks, atop stubby concrete plinths bear her two thousand odd tonnes. In the deepening quiet of twilight easy conversation flows, with the light ship and floating dock yet to settle on their blocks, I regret that domestic duties will eventually call us all from this meditative place.

making all ready for water blasting

Monday brings a more vociferous labour to the dock. The marine debris has been washed from the dock floor, and hired cherry pickers have been lowered in. Seeing CLS4 and Onslow, all revealed, forces a child-like response, like the inadvertent glimpse of your aunt’s stockinged leg; innocent, inappropriate and totally fascinating. From the dock floor the curves and camber noted on the flat, black and white plans, inflate to the third dimension. From astern to above, the sight of the rudder, planes and shafts back dropped by the ninety metres of shadowed hull inspire modesty in regards to the achievements of any individual and awe in those of the collective. The 3 000 PSI water blast that will deforest the majestic curves of their wilting marine flora and crusty flora, is but an overture to the banshee like scream of the ultra high blast to come, a skin peal that leaves Onslow’s steel skin bare with a rust red flush. In between, garnet grit is used to prepare areas where the wielding of the water lance could easily result in the severing of a limb. Although grit blasting is applied to only limited areas, its consequences are to transform the dock into candy pink desert. Soft drifts hold the foot marks of labourers and cirrus like plumes are swept up from above as if from the crest of a great dune. With all this commotion getting onboard the submarine has been problematic and thus much time has been spent fine tuning the plans for some of the other works that are to be carried out.

Astern of Onslow, looking fro the dock floor

Glen Thornton (Senior Technical Supervisor, Hoses/Projects, Weapons Systems, In Service Support. Naval) is the coolest man on the island. His philosophical frame work is based upon the following axioms: beards are cool, white overall topped with a green hard hat are cool and despite being already dead, Steve Mc Queen was a sell out for doing those anti-smoking ads in the eighties. With the aid of a race horse rolly on his bottom lip he rallies his intellect to the problem at hand.

“If we can locate ABR 2226-6 along with PIL SCP/10/1, we could, using the ULs, find out the weight of a MarkVIII mod 2 and then test SWL for the lift.”

The ensuing mass nod approved of the plan, unsaid was the general agreement that challenging Glen’s encyclopaedic knowledge of naval publications and acronyms was beyond anyone present. Glen is applying years of experience with O boat weapons systems to, amongst others, the tasks of moving a torpedo in the fore most compartment of the submarine and the resealing of the torpedo tubes. In normal operation the bow caps of the tubes are kept tightly sealed by hydraulic pressure, hydraulics are also used to manoeuvre the torpedoes in the for-ends. In the absence of a functioning telemotor system Glen has formulated a number of different strategies for the completion of these tasks. Appropriately, the approval of Thales’ engineering department is required before any plan is implemented. Glen concedes the point but at times he displays an attitude towards the engineering department which is like that which an artist might have towards a critic, or, that which the boys from Orange County Choppers would have for a vehicle inspector, acknowledging their value yet questioning their judgements.

Will Glen get his way or is it back to the drawing board for Mr Cool? And will this writer stop trying to be clever? All will be revealed in the next exciting episode… or not.

end of the day

 

Day Two; Between the Times 17/10/2008

Onslow entering Captain Cook Grave Dock

Today is much like the last only lacking all the fanfare. Again, our Navy pilot boards and the DMS tugs come along side. Under the watchful eye of the jaunty dockmaster we’re eased into the Captain Cook Graving Dock, one of the true industrial cathedrals, but today it looks more like an over sized swimming pool. Secured well back in southern eastern corner of the dock, Onslow will stay in this position until the pump-out of the dock commences next Friday, being joined by the museums light ship  CLS 4 (commonwealth light ship) and thales’ floating dock. There is not a lot happening for the rest of the day so I’m off back to museum to organise some supplies.

CLS4 being manoeuvred within the garve dock

This seems a good time to discuss the work that will be undertaken during the following week, but first, a bit of ‘submarines for dummies.’ Essentially, the submarine is a habitable metal tube (the pressure hull) which gains buoyancy from the saddle tanks attached to the greater part of either side of the vessel. As I explain to our younger guests at the museum, these tanks are much like floaties, when full of air the sub remains on the surface. Release the air and she submerges below the waves. Luckily all submarine have the ability to re-inflate their floaties and re-emerge on the surface.

The next point is that what you see is not what you get with a submarine. On the surface she appears to be ominously sleek and other worldly but lift the bonnet, or more accurately the casings, and much of the mystery is removed. The casings, over twenty in number, sit atop of the pressure hull and run near the full length of the hull. Made of either mild steel or GRP (glass reinforced plastic) their primary function is to give the submarine a hydrodynamic shape; they also provide protection for the equipment that lies below them as well as giving a work platform when the sub is surfaced. Compressed air bottles, exhaust manifolds, sonar arrays, webs of pipes and a menagerie of equipment are housed underneath the casings. With their removal, many of the functions of the sub and the means with which they are attained come to light. The dark menace is shown to be just a bunch of nuts and bolts, although a very a very complex bunch.

Channel, where saddle tanks and pressure hull meet

Onslow; featuring saddle tanks and casing

So why does Onslow needs to be docked? The three main aims of the docking are to make sure she remains afloat, preserve the vessel’s exterior and to improve the boat’s aesthetics. These three aims are intertwined. In this first week, prior to the pump down of the dock, the lifting of eleven of the GPR casings will be the main event. This will allow access to areas that would, without a team of highly trained spider monkeys, be impossible to reach, and its purpose involves all three aims. One of the critical areas, in regard to buoyancy, is the point at which the saddle tanks join the pressure hull. The surrounding area forms a gutter, collecting water and leaving it susceptible to corrosion and the possibility that the tank’s watertight integrity could be breached. It is essential that this area be well preserved. If the casings were left in place there would be very restricted access and a great risk of the fibre-glass casings being damaged from the water and grit blasting that will take place later. The blasting will remove most of the corrosion on the pressure hull and pipe work, in preparation for preservation via painting. With the source of most of the rust staining along Onslow’s sides no longer present, she will look better for longer and will probably have lost a couple of kilos. The docking is much like the combination of a detox diet and trip to the day spa, you’re healthier, you look better and it often stops that sinking feeling.

 

16/10/2008 Day One, the Journey

Former H.M.A.S. Onslow alongside at Darling Harbour

The smiles were shining from all as fleet staff rolled in this morning. A mix of relief and the anticipation fed the high spirits. Relief that the occasionally strained contract negotiations with Thales, whose skilled work force will conduct the majority of the dockings tasks, had yesterday, been sealed with the flurry of a pen and a hand shake. The anticipation, for most of us, came from the action to come. Released from the constraints of working in the public domain of the museum, we could focus on the material welfare of the submarine and the exercise of some of our skills and knowledge that had been held in check. Others anticipated a leisurely cruise on a faultless Spring morning.

Navy pilot and assistants on the submarine bridge

There had been months of work preparing the sub for this day. Warwick Thompson had been crawling about amongst the tangle of pipe below the casings. With torch and note pad his inspection of the sub’s tanks and innards are the foundation of the scope of work to be conducted in the coming month. I myself had spent countless hours in strange yogic positions undoing hundreds of bolts so as to free the casings. Everyone had contributed. We had prepared, but on seeing the authoritative stride, black’ n ’whites and scrambled-egged caps of the navy pilot’s entourage, I returned to an unexpected place. Every muscle tensed a little, that whole of being feeling as you left port, like the first day of school only more solemn.

The DMS ( Defence Maritime Services ) tugs positioned themselves fore and aft and her lines drawn aboard. Our pilot, by close inspection, assures himself of their security and then takes his position aloft on the tiny bridge way up in the fin. Radio communication is tested between both lines parties, fore and aft, and the bridge. We all wait and then wait a little longer, a car carrier is coming into port. The delay seems too much for the mass of well wishers on the heritage pontoon and they disperse, perhaps they can no longer bare saying farewell? Then a scramble of activity as the tugs’ lines creak taught and the sub’s let go. A close eye is kept on the closing gap between the destroyer and sub as she turned to head out the harbour proper. Finally a miraculous turn is brought off by the forward tug, much like seeing a front rower morph into Rudolf Nuereyev, as he repositions from a push to tow.

DMS tug boats moving Onslow through Darling Harbour

Thanks to the skill of or navy pilot and the DMS skippers all goes smoothly on our approach to Garden Island dock yard. Once Onslow is tied up along side we secure all means of entry and leave her for the night. The museum staff will now begin the formidable task of induction into the dockyard work area, a process that in total will take a full day of instruction and evaluation.

A perfect day, a perfect harbour, a perfect tow

 

Voyage Log: Brisbane-Coffs Harbour day 3

Saturday, 6 September 2008
Noon position: Lat 26°30.6´S Long 153°45.8´E
Day’s run: 122nm

With only 5 minutes until their sitting of lunch will be called, the foremast watch, lead by Ally and Josh, are charged with the task of setting the fore topsail. Quickly up the shrouds they go, eager to get down to the meal, and avoid upsetting Abi the catering officer – she’s already been traumatised by her offsider, Darby, who accidentally threw a vegetarian salad over the side – much to the pain of Dirk our navigator. Foremast watch set sail in sharp order and get below to enjoy the hearty soup, Abi – being an expert strategist – has set a menu to soothe the stomachs of those crew turned green by the swell – and they are grateful for it.

Up on deck there is the first of many excited hails: “Whale off the port bow!” Water spouts abound, and a mother with calf breaches slapping her tail, and another breaches off to starboard – but no one on deck is quick enough with a camera – so the skipper offers some inspiration: “a bottle of rum for whoever photographs a whale breaching with the ship in the foreground!” The pod is active around the ship for the rest of the afternoon but no more break the surface, the competition stands open for the rest of the voyage.

SAILING!! At 1800 hours the motors go off, and Endeavour is moving in the fashion designed for her, with the wind and the swell her allies. All in all she has six sails set: the fore, main and mizzen topsails, the main course, the fore topmast staysail, and the main topmast staysail. The billowing canvas is a welcome sight, and the movement of the ship in tune with the seas.

After sunset the chief officer, Marty –”Big M”, speaks fondly of his wife and wee puppy dog, who would have thought a salty sailor could be so sentimental – on only the first night at sea! Come 2200 hours though and there is work to be done, time to wear ship, the first big sailing manoeuvre. In the starlight the mainmast watch and some professional crew are called upon and they wear ship finely.

During the night there is the first hammock to go, and a conk to the head is heard, the voyage mates of the young fellow from foremast watch say he is “much more sensible” as a result. Apparently he was rigging it while dinner was called, and in his haste may not have given the knots the attention they deserved. The first day’s voyage was quiet for Wally, the ship’s engineer, and he says an uneventful day for him equals a “seriously happy” engineer. It turned out to be the hush before the storm, at 0200 hours he is woken to attend to a generator, and then spends the twilight hours cannibalising two ill pumps into one working one, keeping the main fridge-freezer alive.

At sunrise the winds freshen, and the mizzen topsail and main topmast staysail – up through the night – are struck. The remaining sails see out the rest of the morning, Endeavour rolling softly with the breeze and gentle swell.
 All is well.