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Down in the Trenches

A little after midnight Dawson emerged from cargo hold five.  It was blowing a full gale and the temperature had dropped to -25˚C with the windchill.  He stood over the narrow hatch and hand over handed the 75’ length of one inch hose up from...

What’s the Skinny, Fatty?

Back-to-back trips across Lake Superior carrying iron ore eastbound in our belly for the Soo.  Last night was black and starless, with a brisk southerly and an ever-increasing swell.  Lightning flickered...