Righting the Cougar Ace

Joshua Davis in Wired Magazine recounts this incredible saga, High Tech Cowboys of the Deep Seas: The Race to Save the Cougar Ace.

The drama inherent in trying to save a ship that has nearly capsized in the North Pacific is gripping, mostly because of the exotic cast of characters that populate it. From Captain Rich Habib to a bevy of wild salvage divers and naval architects, these guys are the stuff of a Hollywood movie.

The story itself is a screenplay. A deep-sea car transport, its 14 decks packed with 4,703 new Mazdas at an estimated cargo value of $103 million lays on its side after a malfunction while changing ballast water. The only way to right it is to create a digital model and calculate an intricate pumping system. The only way to accomplish it isn’t pretty.

The job is daunting: Board the Cougar Ace with the team and build an on-the-fly digital replica of the ship. The car carrier has 33 tanks containing fuel, freshwater, and ballast. The amount of fluid in each tank affects the way the ship moves at sea, as does the weight and placement of the cargo. It’s a complex system when the ship is upright and undamaged. When the cargo holds take on seawater or the ship rolls off-center — both of which have occurred — the vessel becomes an intricate, floating puzzle.

Davis handles the telling of this fantastical tale brilliantly. As he introduces each character as they are summoned to the project—from Jackson Hole, Wyoming to Port of Spain, Trinidad—he back-stories just enough to help us understand the dangers and rewards. And in Captain Rich Habib, he has a protagonist that is sort of a seafaring Red Adair, square-jawed and steely-eyed through risk and tragedy.

The story has everything that I love: drama, technology, character and story. Someone needs to make a film of this. It’s the best thing I’ve read in a long, long time. Follow the link to the story after the excerpt.

Deep within the ship, the men dangle on ropes inside an angled staircase and peer through a doorway into the number-nine cargo deck. Their lights partially illuminate hundreds of cars tilted on their side, sloping down into the darkness. Each is cinched to the deck by four white nylon straps. Periodically a large swell rolls the ship, straining the straps. A chorus of creaks echoes through the hold. Then, as the ship rolls back, the hold falls silent. It’s a cold, claustrophobic nightmare slicked with trickling engine oil and transmission fluid. Trepte lowers a rope and eases into the darkness.

High Tech Cowboys of the Deep Seas: The Race to Save the Cougar Ace by Joshua Davis in Wired Magazine.

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Spinnin’ wheel, got to go ’round…

A few days ago, I was lamenting that I would soon have to give up my after-work pint as I was losing the battle of the bulge. My good friend Barry who like me is a smoker-who-doesn’t-smoke-anymore and was inspirational to quite a few of us in that regard, used his usual delicacy to throw down the gauntlet.

“You know, if we got off our arses we could have both – drop twenty pounds and enjoy a good meal and a pint now and then.” He then issued a more specific challenge: if I sussed out the schedule, he’d join me for an early morning “spin”. It so happens that equidistant between our houses is a great bike shop that offers spinning sessions. I’d heard about spinning from Carol, who is a spinning-zealot, but I was always a little apprehensive. Images of myself receiving CPR in a puddle of my own sweat while a bunch of yuppies dressed in multi-coloured lycra looked on always kept me out of the spin cycle.

But Barry’s challenge pushed me over the edge.

Cut to he and I, bleary-eyed and slightly hung-over, standing in the dark of early morning, wearing gym clothes that were wrinkled from 4 years of rolled-up slumber. We were greeted by Joanne, a lithe instructor who recognized our virginity and declared good-heartedly that we would probably “cough up a lung.”

But we didn’t. In fact, I have to admit that while it was a bit of work, all in all—it felt great. I began to understand why people love it. The music, the push and pull of Joanne’s pacing, the communal experience of people with varying fitness levels virtual-riding together: it’s invigorating.

I always shy away from making pronouncements of conversion. But we did commit to going again, after some business travel and scheduling snafus get out of the way, and I think we will. In fact, I think we’ll go quite a few times, and maybe be a bit better off as a result.

The last thing Barry said to me, noting that I had picked up the tab and he would repay me on the next go ’round, was that as long as he owed me, I’d never be poor. Well, I do owe him. I owe him for prompting me to get off my arse and giving spinning a whirl. It’s great.

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4-Ball in the corner. On Table #3.

Since I’ve been too swamped to write a decent post, I thought I’d post a video of someone with too much time on their hands.

Enjoy.

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We survived it. Happy Spring Equinox.

Today’s the day that night is as long as day. The spring equinox in the northern hemisphere is the day when you can balance an egg on its end and more importantly, begin to feel like the snow’s going to melt.

It is going to melt, isn’t it?

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Jill Bolte Taylor – My stroke of insight.

Peter Flaschner — who always seem to find the most inspiring and eclectic slices-of-life — turned me on to this extraordinary presentation.

Anyone familiar with the Ted Talks site knows that this conference of Ideas Worth Spreading is a bag of wisdom-nuggets. Few are as powerful as this one.

It’s 18 minutes long; it’s a moment of true beauty.

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