![]() Back on board, a daily routine quickly emerged: morning coffee on the bridge with the gregarious chief officer, sociable mealtimes with the crew, and hourly strolls around the outer decks, the frigid ocean wind buffeting my face and dark waters churning below.Ī highlight was a morning’s tour of the ship, led by crew members. During port calls in Antwerp and Liverpool, we were allowed to disembark and explore both for a day. ![]() One morning we played chess on a deck bathed in sunshine the next afternoon Tony lost his knitted cap to hurricane-force winds off Newfoundland. Left mostly to our own devices, Janos, Tony and I filled our days with darts tournaments, jigsaw puzzles and raucous games of Risk. I realised that all my efforts to reduce my carbon footprint at home in Milan – I cycle to work, limit food waste and seldom buy new clothes – are wiped out by just one flight between Canada and Europe. Since 2017, I’d emitted over 14 tonnes of carbon from flights alone. Recent campaigns such as the Swedish flygskam (flight shame) had shone a harsh light on my blindness to the climate impact of air travel, and I had decided that booking a flight wasn’t an option. My European work visa was expiring and I hoped to make it home to the west coast of Canada in time for Christmas. The 300-metre, 100,000-tonne vessel before me was to be my home for the next 15 days.įour months earlier I had made a reservation on a cargo ship to take me from Hamburg to Halifax, Nova Scotia. ![]() ![]() As the ship’s immense hull came into view, I entered a world where everything was larger, louder and more dangerous than my life on land. It was 7am and the port of Hamburg was a hive of activity, our port security van speeding past whirring cranes and towering stacks of shipping containers. The guard gave me a quizzical look then muttered something to himself in German, shaking his head. ‘A re you a crew member?” the security guard asked, fixing me with a stare in the van’s rear-view mirror. ![]()
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