November 9 Noontime Position: Lat 42deg 23,9 N; Long 144deg 29,5 E
South of Hokkaido

Morning brought clear blue skies, Hokkaido visible to the north as a pale pastel green, and a cluster of small Japanese fishing vessels, brilliant white sequins on the sea. As we steered between Hokkaido and Honshu, a large pod of dolphins breached and splashed a hundred metres away alongside.

We have entered the “Evaporator Zone? ” a large area surrounding Fukushima. Since the tsunami and nuclear reactor incident last spring, Hanjin ships turn off their seawater desalination machines in Japan’s vicinity. As long as we’re in the zone, we’ll be relying on our existing supply of freshwater and will not be risking contamination by drinking potentially radioactive H20. It also turns out the Hanjin Copenhagen was near Fukushima two days after the whole business began. The vessel was subsequently checked and cleared by the Japanese authorities, but the Captain and Chief Engineer believe this was all window dressing; that the Japanese purposefully didn’t look too hard for things to go “beep” on the Geiger-counter.

My shipboard life is sedentary. Sleep is deep, but setting the clock back one hour for seven consecutive days means I’m not quite settled yet. At least it will sort itself out once I’m in China. Merchant crews doing the Asia-North America run for months on end slosh their time zones back and forth constantly and are never anyplace long enough to adjust fully.

I’ve now got my “sea legs”, but I spend most of my day asleep or sitting down. There’s not much walking around other than the occasional turn on deck, but at least I take the stairs up and down the eight stories of the superstructure. I had been hopeful of doing some running during the journey, but it turns out this wasn’t realistic. With the constant pitch and sway, and the fact that my centre of gravity is above the railing, slamming into steel or going overboard while running are a real possibility.

So I’ve made do with the ship’s gymnasium, which has an elliptical trainer. It’s one of those exercise contraptions I’m too good for on land (har har), but out on the ocean it’s a fun challenge as you go up-..and down-..and up again. I have also been doing some very basic yoga-ish stretches, and at times it’s been like standing on the world’s biggest Swiss ball. There is even a 4m x 5m x 2m deep indoor “pool”, presently empty. I’m told it is filled with seawater but only during the summer. Too bad – I would have been able to practice flip turns and synchronized swimming routines.

Although my workouts have been sporadic, the meal routine is regular. Breakfast at 7:30, lunch at 12:00, dinner at 17:30. I dine in the Officer’s Mess and have my own table, one of three in the room. Everyone else has his own seat at one of the other two tables. There isn’t much conversation. The Captain and Chief Engineer sometimes confer in German over some technical matter, or grumble about the food. On occasion, the Chief has extra time to tell tales. But in general, it’s sit down and eat. Some of the fare is disheartening – limp iceberg lettuce, rubbery cheese, dubious Chinese juice. But generally the meals are a hearty German mix. “Eintopf mit Weisswurst”, “Roladen”, potato pancakes, roast pork, various vegetable soups, and lentil and beef stew have all been on the menu.