Great Lakes barge offers physical labor, great food, camaraderie
MARBLEHEAD, Ohio — A rumbling conveyor belt carried crushed stone to the holds of the 700-foot Pathfinder barge, its V-shaped stern nocked like an arrow with the bow of the 124-foot tug Dorothy Ann as they rode as conjoined twins in Lake Erie’s calm early-morning waters at the Marblehead dock.
Stone dust and a slightly fishy scent perfumed the breeze that never seemed to still over the dozen holds of the barge as nearly 20,000 tons of stone from northeast Ohio quarries filled the ship, which is part of Interlake Steamship Co.’s 10-vessel fleet.
The overnight load set the stage for a seven-hour trip — at 10 mph — from Marblehead to Cleveland. The 14-member crew had been working nonstop — especially chief engineer Kevin Rice, who began his career aboard Great Lakes ships 42 years ago.
Rice and his team had been up for two days straight, trying to correct a problem with one of the two propeller shafts that uses the 7,200-horsepower diesel engines to drive the Dorothy Ann. So they and other crewmembers were gathered in the ship’s galley, scarfing down made-to-order breakfasts by culinary-school graduate Matt Dillinger, a Sandusky native.
Dillinger’s well-stocked kitchen produces three meals a day, plus treats, soups, snacks and desserts, for 15 men 220 days a year.
And it’s not just “three squares” focusing on the calories required to do the physical work entailed on a boat. We’re talking the stuff of a foodie’s dreams, from the simplicity of a perfectly cooked porterhouse steak to made-from-scratch chicken paprikash soup (soups are made fresh every day, as they’re a favorite of Capt. Jeremy Mock, who happens to be a friend and offseason travel buddy of Dillinger’s) to pastries.
Outside Dillinger’s kitchen and the tiny but efficient dining room, the smells are of the lake and oily machinery. Inside, the aroma wafting through the room sets stomachs rumbling at a decibel level rivaling the diesel engines that power the tug.
For 13 years, the 39-yearold Dillinger has been aboard ship. Although he’d worked professionally in kitchens before, he began his seagoing life on deck and eventually traded his shovel for a spatula. And he loves it.
“If I’m keeping the crew happy, I’m doing my job,” he said.
Plying the Great Lakes in ships like the Dorothy AnnPathfinder can be seen as an adventurous career — and to some degree, it is. “Deadliest Catch” 40-foot seas and hurricanes aren’t that common, but it can be dicey. Chief Engineer Rice’s office below decks in the engine room, and in Mock’s pilothouse 70 feet above the deck, both sport the gauge that proves it.
In Navy parlance, it’s a “puke meter,” and it shows how far the ship is rolling in the waves. In the heavy seas of the open ocean, a 30-degree roll isn’t uncommon. It’s rare on Erie or the other Great Lakes, but a 10-degree pitch back and forth ... and back and forth ... and back and forth ...
Captains such as Mock earn as much as $200,000, and mates such as Karly Moise-Duquella, who graduated from the State University of New York Maritime Academy, and Joe Cioletti, an alumnus of Great Lakes Maritime Academy in Michigan, make upwards of $100,000. Ordinary seamen, who are in a different union than captains and mates, earn up to $60,000 and able seamen can earn $80,000.
All plus overtime, of course ... and overtime is a given because the work year is pretty much daily from March to January.
Deckhands work 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. when under sail — and the Dorothy Ann-Pathfinder and other Interlake ships can find themselves anywhere on the Great Lakes. The workday changes during loading and unloading, with the goal of working eight hours but adding overtime when necessary.
Camaraderie aboard ship is essential when you’re together as long and often as Dorothy Ann-Pathfinder’s regular and standby crews are. It either develops, or you change ships. But what draws someone to such a hard life to begin with?
Moise-Duquella, who grew up in New York City and Haiti, said it was the movie “Titanic” that got him into the maritime life.
“I looked at how they were living as officers, and I thought, ‘Yeah, I could do that,’” he said while standing his four-hour watch in the pilothouse 70 feet above the deck. “Except for the sinking.”
“If I’m keeping the crew happy, I’m doing my job.”
— Matt Dillinger, on-board chef