Harbour masters and their performance
During the decades that we are sailing, we have come across quite a few harbour masters. In the beginning it were only harbour masters of flesh and blood, but in later years harbour masters have changed to canned copies or, very modern, to ‘digital copies’. In general the contacts with us, sailers and guests, have also changed deplorable .
In the days gone by, a chat with the harbour master while collecting the fees, was quite normal. As a proof, a hand-filled harbour receipt, was handed over. Sometimes nicely colored and sometimes just black and white, but they were always very different and interesting.
Sometimes you joined the harbour master on a bench in front of the harbour office to share information. Oftentimes the harbour master was the determining factor during a palaver on the jetty when he encouraged or discouraged sailors in less favorable weather conditions to set sail the next day.
During the latter years, the majority of the harbour receipts are produced by a miserable label printer, of which after a short time the text has faded to such an extent that there is no point in keeping them anymore.
The big change
In the course of time we were expected to visit the harbour master ourselves, at least if there was a harbour master to be found at all. We have now become accustomed to the machines or even to apps, such as the Blue Water App, the AanUit.net app, the i-Marina app, the GoMarina app or . . . . But sporadically, very pleasantly, an ‘old-fashioned’ comes along with whom you can still have a chat.
During our travels we have met many ‘harbourmasters’, but some have left a special impression. An anthology in random order.
Service and thinking along at its best
After extensively recording our arrival with his camera, Bertie Milne, the harbour master of Whitehills, stands on the jetty of ‘his’ marina to tackle the mooring lines.
When our fantastic harbourmaster drives us to a Fish&Chips place in Whitehills because all restaurants are already closed it turns out that this place is also closed. Nevertheless he drives us to Banff where we are succesfull.
The next morning, it is Sunday, it appears that we have a problem with the sail drive and the boat has to get out of the water. That sunday morning, Bertie arranges rapidly a crane to be on the quay early Monday morning, a craddle for the boat to the side and two helpers to help during the lift.
Even before we have thought about it ourselves, Bertie comes with a business card of a B&B where we stay during the period that the boat is on the side, very cozy in full board with a fantastic couple.
There is no question of me, riding my folding bike to Banff, to get things for the repairs. As a guest of the marina I am driven back and forth like royalty.
Because it is not possible in Whitehills to dispense used oil from the sail drive, Bertie Milne sees it as his personal responsibility to dispose it up, despite my insistence to take it with me myself. And when it comes to paying, I can only pay for two days. ‘The boat was not on the marina grounds‘ I was told.
Really ‘a super guy’, the harbour master of Whitehills!
Chatting
On the Friday before Midsummer night we tie up in Falkenberg on the Swedish west coast. I walk to the harbour office to report. I hear the harbour master’s accent and ask, “Glasgow?”. Having explained my connection to Glasgow, at his question, I am pushed into a chair, given coffee and he talks nineteen to the dozen . After an hour I leave, with a very cheap harbour ticket. “I don’t want to know how long that boat is“, he said when I pointed to the boat. Because he couldn’t point me to a supermarket that was still open on this starting day of the Midsummer night party, he gives me a large mackerel from the fridge: “Then you won’t starve anyway“.
We stay the next day and I visit the harbour master for the second time. Again we start with coffee, but for the Scottish ‘Uisge beatha’ (Whisky), it is too early for me. When it comes to paying, the boat is still much shorter than it actually is, at least for my Scottish friend .
At the wrong foot
In Farsund, Southern Norway, we have barely fastened the mooring lines when a young lady comes by to collect the harbour dues. Cash is the only option because the mobile card reader does not work. By scraping together all our Norwegian cash, we approached, except for a few kroner, the amount for one night’s stay. She thinks it’s okay, but I promise her that I’ll make sure that I have enough cash that same evening for the next night.
The mini bank spews out brand new, never used 200 kroner bills the next day. In the evening our charming harbour master comes by again and I give her a 200 kroner note with the remark, “See here, i made this banknote myself last night“.
The very brief hesitation on her face is my reward, but just as quickly she pulls herself together and says “You did a wonderful job“.
A fabulous memory
Although at varying intervals, we have been to Peterhead at least 10 times, because it is a good spot to enter the harbour, even in bad weather. When we arrived in 2005, the harbour master was standing on the jetty and allotted us a box that was less easily accessible. Although my lady often does the steering, while I then act as ‘deckmate’, she asks if I want to handle the helmet wood of our Orion33 this time. When the harbour master greets us with “Compliments capt’n how you maneuvered the boat into the box“, My lady jokes: “I am the captain, he is only the assistant-captain”. There is laughter, but it does mean that lateron she is consistently greeted with “Good morning Capt’n!”
The next day I ask him if we can have a package sent to the marina for his attention. His reply is: “Send it to the attention of my boss. Since you are the assistant-captain, I am only the assistant-harbourmaster“. And we both laugh out loud.
Only in 2015 we visit the marina of Peterhead again with the Trintella 42. The same harbour master is standing on the jetty and he greets the lady with the words: “From Friesland, isn’t it, . . . . Capt’n?”
Internet access
Ten years ago, surfing the internet abroad, was less easy than it is today. In order to be able to use the internet in Öregrund (Gulf of Bothnia), an access code for the local Wi-Fi network must be obtained from the ‘Öregrunds Turistbyrå’, but something appears not to work. During the next two days no solution came up. Peter, a Finn who is also in the harbour, tells me that it gets worse further north.
Unfortunately, a Swedish prepaid card, a good alternative, cannot be purchased in Öregrund.
The harbour master comes up with the solution: His colleague takes us with his car to Östhammar, 15 km away, where we buy such a card. Another person comes along to act as an interpreter because the colleague’s English is inadequate . They do not want to know about payment for the ride and we again receive an apology and compensation because the wifi connection could not be used.
‘Cooperation’ by the (iron) harbour master
We tie up into a marina in Sweden. We register at a machine and purchase a kind of ‘e-purse’ card with which all payments can be made. During the purchase of the card , our account is debited for port dues, the deposit for the chip card and an amount of crowns as ‘chip card’ content. If necessary, the ‘chip money stock’ can be topped up when it has been used up, e.g. for electricity and showers.
On departure, the ‘e-purse’ card can be returned to the machine, whereafter the deposit and the unused portion will be refunded to the bank account with which the card was purchased. Only then and not earlier, the friendly ‘iron’ harbour master tells us that the amount ‘unfortunately‘ cannot be refunded because the ‘e-purse’ card was purchased with a Maestro debit card.
The message ends with: ‘Possibly you can contact ….’, yes indeed, the harbour master who we did not see during our visit and who can nowhere be found.
‘One-way communication’ with a vending machine
In 2012, en route to the North Cape, we find the harbour master on the quay in Bodø (one of those ‘harbour masters’ with a touch screen on his belly). The first command we get on the screen after pressing: ‘Insert your credit card’ followed by many mandatory fields. We wonder what all the information is needed for, but we answer all questions “as true to truth”. Do we want electricity? It’s not really necessary, but it’s easy. Showering? Yes of course. Rates are not shown. Don’t worry, we can still cancel it.
At the end of the questions, not only the final amount is shown, but we are informed that the amount has already been debited.
We are shocked for a while by the amount. I am still waiting for an “Enjoy your stay”, but the ‘ iron harbourmaster’ must have noticed my startled face and therefore he wisely keeps quiet.
The owner of the 15 m yacht, opposite us at the jetty, is amazed that we have entered the correct length of the boat. “Every Norwegian boat is shorter than 12 metres, including my boat and that makes a big difference” he tells us.
The icing on the cake comes the next morning when it appears that the sanitary building is being renovated. Not a single announcement about this on the touch screen on the stomach of the taciturn ‘harbourmaster’. At the ’turistkontor’ we hear during the day that we can take a shower in the basement of a certain hotel , “ Sanitary facilities already paid with the port dues? What do you mean? “.
De all-round havenmeester as it should be
It is 2017. The harbour master in Varberg, an extremely friendly lady, takes our mooring lines and welcomes us in the marina. We can pay the fee at a vending machine, but if we find it more comfortable, we can also pay at her office. Oh yes, if we have questions about anything, we can contact her. Well, we have one: “where can you get your watch battery replaced here?” “Oh, that’s simple, you have to go to the shoemaker, look here” and she draws the route on a map that we get“.
The next morning, she visits the boats of all visitors on her bike and wishes us a “God morgon sjömän“. She also points out that the access code for the sanitary building expires at 12:00.
Fortunately they still exist, the real harbour masters. We feel very welcome.
Fuel service
In 1997, on the way back from the Faroe Islands, we moored in Wick, Scotland. We need to refuel, but there is no opportunity in the harbor. The harbour master is incredibly nice, I have only a small jerry can of my own but the harbour master lends me a bigger one and takes me in his car to a diesel station along the road. He waits for me to fill the jerry cans and drives me back to the boat. Our economical engine can certainly run for another 30 hours. Thank you harbour master!
De ‘honesty’ box
” Fill in the form. Place mooring fee in the envelope in the payment box. Hang the copy in a visible position for checking. Thank you for visiting and welcome back ”
Very rarely, you see a harbour master in the small harbors in Northern Norway. Often you will find two post boxes, the so-called ‘honesty’ boxes. One is filled with a set of envelopes and forms. A second mailbox, fitted with a good lock, is intended for depositing the envelope with the filled in forms. Although it is customary to hang the front cover of the set visibly, we have hardly seen anything of control. It is assumed that you pay the requested mooring fee (usually about 100 – 200 crowns) fairly.
We park the boat somewhere near the Lofoten in such a small harbor. The envelopes are there, but where should you put the filled envelope? Together with another ‘parker’ we decide that something is missing! We’re going to ask at the village shop. They can’t give us a definitive answer either, and they don’t know who the harbour master is either. We get official permission from the cashier to leave the next morning without paying. “They should better organize things,” she says. We don’t see a harbour master, as usually in such harbours.
Benevolence
It’s 2021 and corona time. This year we have a permanent berth in Makkum and we sail in the Netherlands. In the old harbour of Stavoren, an ‘old-fashioned’ harbour master comes by with his own invention. He has cleverly and securely fastened his ATM to the end of a long stick. “This way I can comply with the 1.5 meter rule, and sailers don’t let the device fall into the water,” he tells me. Too late I realize that it would have been a nice picture for the site.
The next morning I spot him again. He only checks the expansion of boats, and he does not have his stick with him. When I tell him that I would have liked to have taken a picture of him with his ATM stick the night before, he offers to get the thing. I forgo it because the device is definitely not around.
The digital harbour master
One of the naval payment apps
According to the text on a site of one of the many naval payment app suppliers: ” For the sailor it is so much easier if you can pay with a payment app. “. This leaves more time for the harbour master to act as host, to receive people, to explain to them where to find the bakery and supermarket and how to reach the sanitary facilities
It’s absolutely true, when it comes to purely paying. We find such an app more enjoyable than a vending machine. However, everything has two sides. The bakery and the supermarket can be found perfectly with the mobile phone and the sanitary facilities of the marina are always shown on neat floor plans and never hard to find .
But, now that so much time is left, how much better does the harbour master nowadays fulfill his/her role as ‘host/hostess’ ?
We certainly believe that the combination of — receiving people on the jetty, designating a spot, going around to collect mooring fees — is certainly not a bad one. In our experience, hospitality has not improved with the help of digital equipment, rather worse.
