On a Slow Bell: Off the Clock, but Still Plugged In

MarEx Editor Joe Keefe is back from holiday with some light observations from his recent trip to Ireland.

Dublin, Ireland: About 32 years after my first visit to this fine city, last week I returned for a brief one-week vacation. In the summer of 1977, I arrived at Dublin, not via jetliner, but on my first training cruise with the Massachusetts Maritime Academy. In fact, it was my first port-of-call ever. Just 18 years old, my priorities were a bit different back then. And, it took the collective efforts of about 500 thirsty cadets – suddenly turned loose on this unsuspecting city after two weeks at sea – to convince them to chill the beer in the pubs. At least that’s what the other lads told me, in any event, after I returned from a day of exploring 14th century cathedrals and vetting the fine art museums. People talk; you hear things.

Last week, the beer was cold and the food, very good. These are nice people. And the first person we met was the Immigration officer after stepping off the redeye flight from JFK at 7:25 AM. I handed the passports through the glass and was fishing around in my pockets for the Ireland entry cards when he asked, “How come you dropped the ‘O’ from your name?” Startled, I looked up to find him looking at me with an ear-to-ear grin. He was having fun. I played along and countered, “Well, I wasn’t involved in that decision. It happened about three generations ago.” He finished up by stamping the passports with a flourish. Then, as he handed them back to me, he said, “You know, you can change it back if you want. Welcome to Ireland.”

I have since learned that my "clan" is from County Cork. There are no Keefes in Ireland. It just isn't done. You need the "O." On the way back from Ireland's West Coast, we drove through Cork where (along with enduring a massive traffic jam), we also realized that one out of every three politicians running for public (or EU) office is named "O'Keefe," or "O'Keeffe." O'keefes, so the geneology lady told me, do not move and are always found in Cork. She clearly hadn't met my family. I did not argue with her, however.

On Monday, we took the train up to a bustling little fishing town named Howth, located and intermingled with a bunch of EURO 1.5 million homes (don’t do the dollar math – it’s depressing) on a peninsula to the north and east of Dublin proper. From there, we had a nice lunch and set out on a 10K hike to explore the cliffs of the area which eventually culminated in a fine view of Dublin Harbor. In the distance, we could also plainly see Dublin’s most endearing landmark, the twin stacks of the local electric company’s power plant on the bay. I am told that these will soon be torn down and the facility closed to make way for a more modern natural gas-burning facility intended to conform to the new cleaner air standards. I am also told that the scores of artist depictions of the facility on display in the city center will then become collector’s items. I have my doubts about that. In any event, I suppose that all of our MarEx shipping executives can take heart that stack emission issues are affecting everyone.

From the cliffs of Howth, we watched as inbound Stena Line ships and Irish Ferries danced with an outbound containership, all the while carefully avoiding a tanker and a smaller bulker that were both waiting at anchor. Dublin’s port has changed a lot in the thirty-odd years since I last saw it. From my perspective, it now appears to be a robust and modern niche port. And the port is a big part of the local history and economy.

Further into the city, the waterfront is also being regentrified into a series of luxury apartments, office parks and in one place, a spectacular theatre complex. Like many places – and although the slowing economy has stopped much of this activity here – pier space formerly used purely for maritime commerce of one kind or another is shifting to other sectors. In Dublin, the locks and canals originally designed for barges and the carriage of Guinness beer are now no more than footnotes in a typical walking tour of the city.

The trendy shops, boutiques and swank hotels on the docks of Boston, Massachusetts come to mind right now, quite frankly. As development slowly squeezes out traditional marine commerce in port cities everywhere, the real estate involved and associated commerce is also likely to be gone forever. That’s not necessarily a good thing.

Also in Dublin, and at the suggestion of our host, we embarked on the “Viking Splash Tour,” which involved driving around the city in an old, brightly painted WWII-era vehicle that was supposedly built in the United States in 1944. The amphibious landing craft, assembled by American women for use on D-Day, was designed to last for no more than one trip. Nevertheless, and more than 65 years later, the Spartan people-carrier is still in service. Who says that Americans can’t build automobiles?

Selected (lucky) passengers were invited to wear the classic two-horned Viking hats so as to give the trip a bit more local flavor. I myself hid in the back until they ran out of the colorful headgear. Eventually (and apparently not trusting the original design concept of ‘reserve buoyancy’), the operator – who also took great pleasure in verbally assaulting innocent pedestrians – attached some inflatable devices to our vehicle. We then drove (and I am not making this up) into the water at an old wharf. I assure you: SOLAS, STCW and the IMO had no role in the voyage that ensued. We were, however, issued some flimsy PFD’s and additionally got to see where U2 taped a few albums at a pier side studio. I can’t imagine ever forgetting this life-altering event.

After a thorough tour of Dublin pubs (Debbie insisted) and another day trip to what is billed as the oldest castle (Malahide) in Ireland, we set off via rental car to the western coast of the island. Once again, our host – an American ex-Patriot working here for a multinational consulting firm – also suggested that he do all the driving. It took about ten seconds to convince me. Later, this would turn out to be an excellent plan.

From my front left hand passenger seat, I managed to wear out the carpet where my imaginary brake pedal would have been situated, during the two day excursion. Beyond that, I am only now recovering from the terror of whizzing along at 80 KPH on narrow (did I mention narrow?) country roads closely bordered by dense, towering green bushes, as large tour buses did the same thing going the other way at similar speeds. The thrill of this heart-stopping activity was eclipsed only by the spectacular, but dicey drive along the Dingle Peninsula. For those of you on your way to Ireland, I am convinced that this is where they take most of the tourism advertising photographs. It is not to be missed.

Sadly back from vacation and back into the saddle again at work, I nevertheless find that, beyond recharging my batteries with a few days off, there is always something positive to be taken away from any holiday. For me, this now involves waking up at about 4:45 AM every morning. My internal clock appears to have been permanently altered and I’ve long since stopped trying to get back to sleep. Armed with a hot cup of coffee, I am now hitting the computer, answering and clearing E-mails at 5 AM so as to get a jump on the day. Now, the wife is less than pleased with this new development, but you just wouldn’t believe how much you can accomplish when the telephone isn’t ringing off the wall and people aren’t hassling you.

We return next week to the more serious business of maritime-related commentary. In the meantime, it is good to be back. Thanks for reading, writing and supporting the book. – MarEx

Joseph Keefe is the Editor-in-Chief of THE MARITIME EXECUTIVE. He can be reached with comments on this editorial at [email protected]. Join the Maritime Executive ‘Linked In’ group at by clicking http://www.linkedin.com/e/gis/47685 .