On June 18, 2014 NOAA decommissioned a ship that I sailed on for four years. She was the first ship I could sincerely claim ownership to. Though I sailed on two other vessels before I came to her in after New Years in 2003, this one was special. She was going to take me back to Samoa, which she was scheduled to do but was changed abruptly when war started in the Middle East. I would have to wait another two years before going to Apia was to occur. I first published this homage on Facebook back on May 23 when I received an e-mail from headquarters of the decommissioning ceremony. I would have attended but I would be at sea on my current ship.
Farewell to a Wonderful Lady…the Ka'imimoana
The best times of my NOAA career were spent on the Ka’imimoana. She took me places that I have never been to and most likely will never see again. Places you only read about in books or see in magazines including the Galapagos, Nuku Hiva, Mexico, and Kwajalein. Places that people in cubicles only have posters of to distract them for a few minutes from the mundane. I sailed with her numerous times to Western Samoa to “go back home.” Anxiously waiting for the gangway to be lowered and clear customs and immigration while loved ones waited on the pier for me to disembark in a foreign port where I can call a South Pacific island home. The "KA" was part of my good times as well as times I would rather forget. Like when everyone was excited for the Super Bowl and the satellite television became part of Murphy’s Law and died a few hours before the game. It’s funny now but not then.
I don’t know how many times I watched sunrises, sunsets and full moons that illuminated the ocean or searched for, found and gazed at the Southern Cross from her bridge wings. Then on dark clear nights and calm seas, laying down overhead of Aft Con looking at galaxies that would never be seen in so-called civilization. Rare times sitting next to a booby bird as if I had conversation with it while the bird had no fear of humans as it was not disparaged by civilization. Then fly off and show me how it survives in the oceans diving for fish brought about by the KA’s wake, and fly away as to say thanks and goodbye and never see each other again. Maybe it was not a bird but from sailor’s lore that birds at sea are souls of lost sailors who never returned home. Myriad of whales that swam by and dolphins chase us to catch the bow wakes to swim alongside and playfully jump out of the water.
To those who have sailed on ships, experienced daily tempo of ops or set foot in foreign ports, you know the sensation of rolling seas; ocean winds gently smack the face while flapping the hair or in my case an unkempt beard. The feel of salt covered rails and ladders or working in tropical rain squalls. There is an emotional attachment to a ship. It’s not a chunk of steel that floats or a liability that affects the bottom line of a spreadsheet. To many it was home, family, friends, foes and shelter. She was there for you during times of stress from separation; she not only weathered storms at sea but your personal storms as well. She was there to help you put food on the dinner table back home while you ate in the galley. She cradled you to sleep on nights when swells rocked the ship. She was there to help you get the things you wanted and bring back colorful gifts from exotic lands. In the end, she always brought you home.
The work was intense and notable but the Ka'imimoana never got the hype she deserved. She never hosted dignitaries to visit her and most of all in the end she never got the respect she earned. It’s sad that she was forced to leave NOAA early in such an undignified way. In a port that is not her home and in front of a few familiar faces that sailed with her while prepared speeches are orated with canned responses.
So with that, NOAA Ship Ka’imimoana R333, I give you my personal salute, a hearty Thank You for being a part of my life. One day, I like with you will be going into life of retirement. I will sail with you again in my memories and you will be part of my stories I will reminisce fondly with future generations.
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