Ships

The first time I visited Newcastle, I remember being taken aback by the sight of coal ships queued along the horizon. I had only ever really seen ships one at a time off in the horizon, and had never before visited an city where industry is such a part of the fabric of the landscape itself rather than hidden away from view, like a dirty little secret. But here, as you walk along the coast, you can see the hulking silhouettes of these enormous ships lined up in the distance, waiting their turn to be ushered just inside the harbour to be filled with coal.

As you can imagine, this industry brings protest and activism, and understandably so. The coal industry is problematic on a number of levels, and for some the continuing connection of newcastle to the mining and export of coal is something to be lamented. I understand this position, and from the position of ecology and sustainability, I support it wholeheartedly.

And yet, what I never expected, were the feelings of affection and excitement that the coal ships have raised in me. I love sitting in the sea or walking along the coast and looking out to see them far away. It still surprises me when I take a photo of the ocean only to find the outline of ships dotting the horizon. And the other day, when one surged through the harbour as I was checking Nobbys Beach, I felt my jaw drop in excitement at the almost surreal way the storie-high, red, steel behemoth dwarfed Nobbys Head, towering above us all as we walked along the foreshore. I felt excited the way a small child gets excited over such things. Then later, as I lay in my bed above the old gaol, I heard one of the ships release its horn into the midnight air. The huge sound was softer than you might think, blasting through the quiet of the night and bringing a smile to my sleepy face.

 (This photo hunted from here)

I have asked a few folk about the ships over the past few days - about what they think about their presence. They have told me about watching them as they surf, listening for their horns to know if they are too close to someone else, explained the craziness of the beached Pasha Bulka. Bar none, they have loved them. Loved watching them. These ships that are guided by equally impressive pilot boats, that are such a part of the Newcastle coastline, landscape, cityscape, of the culture and fabric of this town. They are part of the way that Newcastle is not like everywhere else. The way that people here are connected to the economics and industries that have been such a part of Newcastle's past, and which continue to be, in a multitude of unavoidable and intertwined ways, a part of its present.

(Like a small child, I waved at the driver of this pilot boat. No, really. I did.)

Note: Please excuse the dodgy photos taken on my crappy smartphone.