It’s 0630 somewhere in the South Atlantic and Roger Chamberlain wakes, heads for the bridge and sends his latest update from the Royal Research Ship James Cook to the National Oceanography Centre in Southampton.
It’s an average sort of day. He’s on a heading of 180 degs (due south) at 9.9 knots. The ship is being helped along by a 20-knot tailwind from the north.
The sea is officially “choppy/rough swell moderate” although in a later dispatch to the Express & Star he prefers the word “lumpy”. Lumpy sea is what you expect as you emerge from the doldrums of the tropics. And it’s about to get a lot lumpier.
Roger Chamberlain is on an 8,500 voyage of discovery, following in the great British tradition of Charles Darwin and Captain Cook. His charge is a party of 28 scientists from all over the world who are searching the ocean depths for evidence of changes caused by global warming.
Being Master of a 4,500 ton vessel is a hard, technical task. Yet Roger admits he’s passionately in love with the sea and talks poetically about it .
Cook and Darwin had to wait until they were home to describe the wonders they beheld. Roger does it in his daily internet blog:
“I have mostly liked my life on the high seas, visiting those places I dreamt about as a lad, meeting nice, indifferent, dour, menacing, jolly people along the way,” he says. “Just like Captain James Cook’s ‘Endeavour’ we are always on a voyage of discovery.
“I have seen the sea at its very best with moonlight phosphorescence bewitching your very soul. I have seen the 25-30 metre waves driven by 90-120 mph winds tearing and testing the very fabric of my vessel.
“I have been part of expeditions to the Arctic and to the Antarctic and cut the waves alongside whales, dolphins, penguins and flying fish.”
It’s a job that brings some intriguing privileges. Thanks to his friendship with the scientists, there is a small feature on the Mid-Atlantic Ridge which bears the name of Rupert. “My late hamster,” he explains.
Born in 1956 in Barry, South Wales, Roger first went to sea as a catering boy in 1972. He moved to Wolverhampton to be with his girlfriend Carol in 1980 and they married two years later. The couple live in Fordhouses and have a son, Gareth and daughter Carys.
The Master has been a captain of Research Vessels for many years and has commanded the RRS James Cook for six months, punctuated with spells of leave.
His latest voyage, Cruise JC039, began in Falmouth on October 13 and will take him to Punta Arenas, Chile by December 1. Then he picks up a flight to be back in Wolverhampton with Carol for Christmas.
It’s a strange job for a land-locked Midlander and he admits that only the curiosity of the scientists makes it possible.
He is carrying boffins from the Plymouth Marine laboratory and the Universities of Oxford, Brest, Warwick, Oregon, Washington, Philippines, Bigelow Labs, and the UK National Oceanography Centre.
Says the Master: “My job and that of my officers, crew and technicians is to take the ship to the areas of interest and enable the scientists to cast their instruments and nets into the water for as long and as much as they need to.”
His task, above all, is to keep them safe.
“The scientists are a demanding lot,” he says. “They push the envelope as much as they can. My job (along with my Senior Officers) is to assess if we can do it taking into account weather, sea, time constraints and so on. But as usual my decision is final.”
By this stage, the voyage has settled into a routine.
“A typical day starts with breakfast. The galley smells meet you before you arrive. All those plans you had for a healthy fruit and muesli breakfast are being smashed by the sight of all the fried fare available.
“Later there’s a management meeting with the chief engineer, the chief officer, the head technician, the bosun, the purser and the principal scientist (the expedition leader who we are all serving).
“We discuss the day and week ahead, any unusual tasks, problems arising, safety issues and fuel consumed, which is eight tonnes a day normally on two engines.”
The scientists lay their nets and examine their data. Another day ends.
It’s not all hard work and no play. When RRS James Cook crossed the Equator, there was gin all round and the ceremonial shaving of a bearded scientist to mark his first “crossing the line”.
The sun sinks into the tropical sea. Phosphorescence shimmers in the bow wave. Roger Chamberlain is 7,000 miles from Fordhouses, reflecting on a fine career on the unpredictable deep: “I have seen so much beauty and rage on this precious planet that I can honestly say I feel a very lucky man.”
But hours after we talk, the weather turns nasty. Today, James Cook is battling against storms halfway between Africa and South America. The Master’s report reads: “Back in the teeth of a storm again – phew!
“Status: Vessel labouring in turbulent seas. Currently in the teeth of a nasty depression giving stormy conditions.”
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