Stena Steams in...

There's a new guest in the harbor!

...the Stena Primorsk of Göteborg.

She's a brand-spankin' new oil tanker built by the Brodo-Split Shipyard in Split, Croatia. Her Swedish owners, the Concordia-Stena Shipping Line is so proud of her they just have to bring her to Stockholm and show her off.

She's been anchored right out in the center of the harbor where everyone can see it, right in front of Gamla Stan. For those of you that don't know the harbor, this is like putting her in Central Park in New York. She's so huge (rivalling the cruise ships starting to arrive in ever-greater numbers as the tourist season sets in) that she dominates the entire city skyline and just about blocks the main shipping channel. The ferries going to the outer islands off Stockholm have to weave around her.

Just for a sense of size, note how she compares to the little historic passenger steamer going by on the left. That steamer is over 150 feet long and has three decks above the waterline, yet she's totally dwarfed by the Stena Primorsk. This is why there are so few ships in ports today compared to a century ago. Look at the change in size, in the amount of cargo just one ship can handle. No wonder ports are becoming ghost towns!

Her arrival here will be marked by a big rock concert celebration after the Queen personally comes down to the harbor to smack the new ship with a bottle of booze. It is going to be a sort of 'second-christening' for her. I mean, she's already been launched (1st christening), put through her sea-trials, and then steamed from the Adriatic to the Baltic. So this'll be sort of a fake christening...although, it has a real queen doing the dirty work, so I guess it counts.

That whole raft of tents on the left is the floating stage for the band and will be towed to the quay for the big event.

Queen there or not, the Concordia-Stena Shipping Line that commissioned the ship has reason to pretty outlandishly proud. Stena Primorsk is a shining example (and I don't just mean her beautiful blue paintjob) of cutting edge modern tanker design, complete with all the necessary safety bells and whistles now requireed by the International Maritime Organization (IMO).

First, she has the now-mandatory double-hull design as you can see in their promotional graphic above. The double-hull design became an international requirement after the hard lessons of the single-hulled Exxon Valdez when she tore herself open on a rocky reef in Prince William Sound, Alaska in 1989.

She was also built with the redundant safety systems of two engines, twin screws, and twin rudders so becoming disabled and drifting into danger is far less likely. Then for fire she has all the latest haylon fire supression systems and nozzles all over the decks and catwalks. This is her under contruction in the Brodo-Split Shipyard in Split, Croatia last year.

However, her owners' greatest joy is undoubtedly that given her size of 182 meters long and weighing in at over 36,000 tons empty (fairly small as tankers go, but big for ships inside the shallow sill at the entrance to the Baltic), she has tankage space for 65,500 tons of petroleum--yeah, nearly double her own weight. With medium-grade bunker oil (a bit denser than gasoline) that works out to about 432,300 barrels of oil or roughly 18 million gallons. Those big numbers always please oil men.

Thanks to her position right smack in the middle of the harbor, I got a pretty good look at her from the little Djurgården ferry on my way to work, charging right under the bow.

I got a good look at her impressive bow-bulb too. She's floating high because there is no way she would be allowed to weave through the thousands of pristine rocky islets peppering the approaches to Stockholm if she was carrying oil. She's too big to do that safely when loaded.

The function of the bow-bulb is to lift and begin separating the water in front of the ship. That way, far less water actually breaks on the bow to create a bowwave. What this ultmately means is that the bow-bulb makes the ship far more efficient in slicing through the water, thereby significantly reducing its fuel consumption. Brilliant invention, really. It is a design that has become standard on virtually all big post-war vessels.

From the ferry I also got a pretty good look at her new lifeboat arrangement, a topic of cosiderable interest since the 1994 sinking of the trans-Baltic ferry Estonia, a disaster that claimed over 900 lives (a sort of second Titanic) and shocked the world into recognition of the need to reconsider lifeboat design.

The system on Stena Primorsk is the best method found thus far. The crew board the little orange lifeboat from the ship's supersturcture, close the hatch and cut 'er loose. The lifeboat goes shooting down a short track and plunges bow-first into the sea. This 'escape pod' set up is by far the safest method of launching a lifeboat in stormy seas.

Well, that's 'The Shipping News' from Stockholm.

The recurring nightmare...

While in college at Beloit, I built 3 models of Middle College, the campus centerpiece. Those of you who knew me then undoubtedly remember my 3 year long frustration with that project. Who knew that building a sqaure box would be harder than a ship's hull full of compound curves?

Anyway, the amusing point is that I was recently going to class on the Stockholm University Campus when I encountered this. Seeing this giant model of one of the campus buildings brought back the nightmare. I think this builder--using actual bricks and building in roughly 1:4 scale--eventually got fed up and kicked it over on its side. It thereby evolved into an art installation.

"Look out lads, the Navy's 'ere!"

Enter the Royal Swedish Navy, a far stronger naval presence on the world stage than most people realize (over 320 vessels). Indeed, that statement goes for all of Sweden's armed forces. Contrary to Sweden's global reputation as the nation of peace, it is actually a major power and one of the world's biggest producers of military technology. This contradiction is what I've described in earlier posts as a sort of Scandinavian schizophrenia.

I was reminded of this phenomena on a fine, grey, spring day aboarded the Djurgården ferry on my way to work. As we pushed out from the dock I spotted a Swedish naval vessel coming up the channel past the cruise ships.

She was exhibiting two day signals (the black balls hanging in the rigging) indicating that she was towing something astern. The ferry skipper veered far over to the edge of the harbor to let the naval vessel pass.

As she came closer abeam I could see she was a minesweeper and was sweeping the harbor--not a very comforting sight, really. The implication that a threat existed was hard to miss, especially after a German mine from WW II was just discovered in the Mersey River prompting the closure of all nearby port facilities and tunnels while a Royal Navy minesweeper came in and towed the dangerous device out to see and detonated it.

But it was interesting to see the Swedish Navy in operation and nice to know that they were keeping the harbor safe. Many mines from WW II and the Cold War have been found in Swedish waters over the years and the sight of this minesweeper reminded me that despite Sweden's two centuries of unbroken peace, it is one of the most heavily armed countries in Europe.

Today, the Swedish Navy has one of the largest mine-laying and mine-sweeping fleets in the world--a type of warfare the United States declared obsolete until several of our supply ships were sunk by Iraqi mines at the start of both Desert Storm in 1991 and the current war in 2003 (we are really good at learning from experience). The photo is not mine...of a mine--nothing was blown up in Stockholm harbor--but it shows how actively the Swedish Navy practices and prepares to carry out mine warfare.

Not only is Sweden heavily armed with a rather intimidating military, but it is also one of the world's leading arms producers. This fact gets back to that Scandinavian schizophrenia I've written about. Sweden is a global icon of peace, yet it sells loads of high-tech weapons to foreign countries--many of whom are using them on their neighbors (the Balkan nations, India, etc.). For example, the Kockums shipyard in Malmö, pictured above, has become known as a high-tech, stealth technology naval yard...

...recently launching the Visby class corvettes--big ugly things that thankfully can't be 'seen' (on radar).

...and the Gotland-class diesel-electric submarine, the most technologically advanced non-nuclear powered submarine in the world. It is so advanced that one of them is on loan to the United States Navy's sub-hunter training program because of their superb stealth technologies. To date, detection systems aboard US Naval vessels and aircraft have never been able to locate the Gotland when she is submerged.

Then there's SAAB (Svenska Aeroplan AktieBolaget). Note that the acronym makes no reference to cars. That's because SAAB's real specialty (and money-maker) is military aircraft. Some of the finest and fastest combat planes in the world today are built by the SAAB Aircraft Division. Israel used to buy a lot of them before they started building their own.

Then, of course, there is Bofors; the most famous artillery and anti-aircraft gun manufacturer of all time. The Bofors anti-aircraft guns were a staple of both Allied and Axis forces in WW II (being neutral, Sweden traded with both sides) and were renown for never overheating or jamming thanks to the Swedish steel from which they were machined. Today, Bofors is still producing the world's best artillery weapons, selling regularly to India, Venezuela, Australia, and dozens of others.

Then various smaller arms producers in Sweden turn out all kinds of technological and mechanical gadgets covering everything from light-weight rifles to missile guidance systems and radar technology and even these tracked troop carriers that can do quite well anywhere from the deserts to the frozen north.

So all of this was brought to mind when I saw that minesweeper. When I came back on the ferry after work I discovered that a good-size chunk of the coastal defense fleet had come in to Stockholm for a sort of Navy Day celebration. The entire seawall around Gamla Stan was blackaded with naval vessels moored Mediterannean style (perpendicular to the quay).

The ferry came in right alongside one of the bigger vessels, the mine warfare auxiliary vessel A265 that we met in earlier posts about the Beckholmen drydock back in January and March. Note that she carries some of Bofors latest innovations, the rapid-fire 75mm turret guns. Apparently those things are radar-aimed and can fire dead on-target every two seconds even when the ship is rolling in heavy seas. This is a product of the nation known as the global icon of peace...

The fleet was so completely dominating the shoreline that the ferries could scarcely sneak in to their terminal.

I wondered what the passenger ship Birger Jarl, sailing to Åland, was going to do when she arrived to see her berth occupied by a menacing flotilla of patrol boats.

Just up the quay, two heavy coastal patrol vessels had been brought up alongside the pier, showing off their nasty array of high-tech Bofors guns, missile launchers, mine-laying gear, and absolute thickets of antennae and radars.

On deck stood a few Marines armed with wicked-looking rifles. Troops were everywhere, partly to show off their uniforms and equipment and partly as heightened security.

But I still managed to sneak in and get a picture of a genuine Swedish outboard motor on one of the ship's rubber-hulled motorlaunches.

There was also a fleet of Sweden's very successful (in performance and sales) high-speed, coastal attack boats. There were a number of these constantly growling around the harbor churning up the water.

Indeed, despite Sweden's reputation for peace, it is as militarily active as it was in Vasa's day. However, there is one significant change. Vasa was to be a new kind of warship big enough to make long voyages and carry the war across the Batlic to Sweden's enemies.

The Royal Swedish Navy of today has no long-endurance vessels and is structured as a primarily defensive, coastal navy. So in view of that, perhaps Sweden's identity as a nation of peace is not so far off. After all, Sweden has remained neutral in armed conflicts since the end of the Napoleonic Wars. Yet, the fact that Sweden is one of the biggest arms producers providing weapons to conflicts worldwide can't be overlooked. Sweden's schizophrenia persists.

"Secure the gunports!"

Yesterday I stepped out into the shiphall after hours to go talk to Ole who was 'burning the midnight oil' in the conservation lab and noticed that something was different with Vasa. She didn't look right...The gunports were closed!

All of them, slammed shut. She looked so different, so sleek and streamlined--so peaceful.

But why?

Rounding the stern, my ear caught the whir of a vacuum cleaner. It was time to vacuum Vasa! I had heard of this two-day event. With thousands of visitors surging through the museum bringing in all manner of dust and dirt and shaking it about, the ship has to be cleaned fairly frequently. The decks are easy enough to vacuum, but the broadsides, sloping inboard and banded with heavy rubrails jutting out from her sides, are a little bit tougher to free of the piles of dust that collect there. For such obstacles, we turn to the crane.

Vasa Museet has a huge overhead crane that tracks along the ceiling over the ship. It can lift several tons and has a basket that can be lowered down for crews to perform work on the rigging or, as in this case, to vacuum the ship's sides.

Armed with respirators and a shop-vac, Ova and Mikael 'descend' on the wreck to begin sifting through the layers of settling particles that have accumulated on all the little lumps and ledges. It really is a bit reminiscent of the diving operations on the ship in the 1950s, especially with many of the museum lights turned off, leaving the ship in a dark void pierced only by a few spotlights, the cleaning crew descending from above with special breathing aparati to begin clearing the ship.

Adding to the mysterious appearance of the ship, the lights under the hull and cradle that have been switched on for another cleaning crew working beneath the ship. Here we are dead astern of Vasa's rudder.

It is an interesting place to run about, crouching under the massive hull planks of the 400 ton behemoth overhead. Then there is the fascinating details of the creadle construction and blocking, designs that have worked thus far but may soon be replaced for a more supportive system similar to Jylland's.

So...that's how we clean Vasa.

Americana...

Last weekend I had a most surreal experience. In a way, it was another one of those outings that has won me the nickname 'Magellan', an aimless wandering off into unknown territory just to see what I might find--a 'Bambosh' as it is known in my family. However, it turned into a cultural experience like no other--true 'culture shock'.

It began as a simple Saturday evening stroll through Stockholm's north side. It is lovely just to wander the streets, listen to passers-by speaking Swedish with all its wonderful melody. To catch the delicious aromas wafting from the streetside cafes and restaurants, and to admire the ornate yet tasteful European architecture. There is so much energy brewing in Stockholm, especially on a Saturday evening. The bartenders are all busy setting out extra chairs, lighting candles, and stacking fresh beer glasses for the coming crowds. Stockholm has its own sort of 'Saturday Night Fever' and as I strolled those streets, I could almost feel the temperature rising. Then, all of a sudden...

... I was caught in a crowd of people wearing American flag bandanas, jeans and cowboy boots, and black leather vests with Confederate flags stitched to the back. There were handle-bar mustaches, mullets, mutton chops, fu-manchus, and sideburns. The crowd reeked of beer, gasoline, and burned rubber. Aging hits like "Bad to the Bone" and "Rebel Rouser" blared from blown-out speakers, almost smothering the din of drunken shouting, clattering beer cans, and a familiar rumble of engines......."Glory be, American cars! Cadillac, Dodge, Chevy, Ford, Jeep, Nash, Pontiac, Buick, Oldsmobile.....It has been so long since I ..... Wait. What is all this doing in Stockholm?... Where the hell am I?... Am I back in Illinois?

It was 'culture shock' if anybody ever had it, let me tell you. Not just to unexpectedly encounter icons of your own culture abroad--although that definitely threw me for a loop. Nor was the real shock even in the fact that I was able to look at my culture from an outside perspective (I've now been outside the US for over 8 months). The really shocking part was that it was not American automotive culture but rather a cartoon of it. Everything--the beer, the hairstyles, the clothing, the love for the Confederacy, the beat-up Buicks with (ceramic) cow skulls hung on the grill and ropes lashing the hood down-- it was all a cartoon, a cartoon these people really seemed to feel was genuine Americana.

I must say, it was fascinating to see what aspects of American culture people latch on to over here. I certainly did not expect American 'rednecks' to be iconic emblems that thousands of Swedes of all ages would strive to emulate.

Of course, the root of this phenomenon lies in the universal appeal of machines to mechanically-minded individuals all over the world. These people were mechanics and auto buffs first; auto-junky rednecks second. Their passion was clearly under the hood--as that is where a great many of them were spending their evening in the big city--and I can see how a love for machines, focused on a love for American machines, would invite the inevitable love for American machine culture. That can lead to only two places--museums and private collections full of pristinely preserved cars and airplanes or the like, ....or....to country redneck car-junkies.

Swedes falling into both categories of machine-lovers were there in force to show off their projects, but the latter group definitely had numerical superiority.

They are known as raggare here and the word appears to apply to them and no one else. This cartoon more or less sums them up. By definition, raggare are "gangs of young males riding around in large American cars (preferrably from the 1970s) trying to pick up girls." That dry, official explanation is only the half of it. Beyond that, raggare are generally defined by loud, drunken, and generally lewd behaviour in their barely-operable piece-of-shit cars--much like their role-models in the American Midwest and South. Yet the vital difference remains; raggare are not American redneck car-junkies. They are cartoons, caricatures, of American redneck car-junkies.

Now I don't say that because I am an elitist or because I am American and they are not, but rather because I have lived in Beloit, Wisconsin where true American redneck car-junkies still flying the Confederate 'stars and bars' are readily found. I've had a taste of that culture. I've been to the Pecatonica Raceway's "Night of Thrills--drag racing, demolition derby, roll-over contest, school bus racing, Dollar Beer Night." So when I say that raggare are not real American redneck car-junkies I have some sense of what I am talking about. The difference is that they are cartoons of American redneck car-junkies, taking every stereotype of the American redneck car-junky and making it into a defining element of raggare culture. Every urban-legend becomes fact and every bonehead idea becomes a paragraph in the Swedish police reports. It is Americana on steroids, really.

...and this is what I had the dumb-luck to wander into one night on Stockholm's north side.

Well, as it turned out, what I had found was the Wheels Magazine annual Stockholm Pow-wow (I'm not sure if they used that name 'pow-wow', but it wouldn't surprise me. You ought to see the Indian immitators selling South American flute music while wearing full Plains Indian garb--complete with headdresses--in central Stockholm).

The streets were clogged for blocks with vintage cars dating from anywhere between 1925 and 1995. There were Chevy vans jacked up on gigantic tires, low-rider Cadillacs with fuzzy dice hanging from the rearview mirror. There were massive Buicks with drunken people hanging out of every orifice in the battered metal body--including the trunk. It was chaos, like a bad dream written by Hunter S. Thompson or a Mad Max movie.

There were other cars there, mostly antiques like 1957 Chevies and earlier vehicles, that were beautifully restored by skilled craftsmen-mechanics. There were a few WW II Army vehicles in mint condition like and old Dodge Army ambulance that came sputtering and grinding down the thoroughfare. It was an impressive parade that crept down Sveavägen. Three lanes of iconic car bodies ranging from gorgeous to shitty and spanning half a century of the American experience.

Lots of the cars were sporting special features like tinted headlights, Lacoocooracha horns, and fox tails. However, as darkness fell--as did many of the most obscenely drunk raggare--all the refinements and detailings were lost in an eerie haze of headlight-illuminated exhaust fumes. I had really forgotten how much more American cars pollute--especially those aircraft carrier-sized 1970's sedans. The back of my throat began to burn and just when I thought I had found a nice haven where fresh air blew in from an intersecting street, two guys on motorcycles began spinning their tires on the pavement to make a smoke screen for the crowd. Cheers and whoops went around as a column of acrid burnt rubber smoke climbed into the air.

By then the ambulances were weaving through the old cars every few minutes. Raggare being raggare, there were plenty of people sliding around ontop of moving cars, drinking beer with their make-up-caked, NASCAR-clad girlfriends, raggarebrud. It was only a matter of time before people started getting carted off to the hospital...but in a way, that's a part of the life. That's part of being in or emulating the American redneck car-junky existance.

And honestly, I could see in their grease-streaked faces and their bloodshot eyes that for them, this was their night. They had come to the big city and taken over. They were the sensation of the town, filling the night air with the sound of rumbling engines, squeeling tires, and the haze of exhaust as only an American automobile can make it. They were revelling among their fellow automobile lovers, here to show off their treasured machines--their blood, sweat, and tears, everything they fought for--here in the national capital. It was a night to be proud of and to remember for all time, 'the night when my Cadillac convertible shot flames from the tailpipes and peeled out down one of Stockholm's main avenues to the defiant growl of "Bad to the bone".

And so fittingly, Sweden's raggare celebrated their big night, breaking out the beer and loud music, having a tailgate party and checking out other people's machines.

Yet for the happenstance American onlooker still confused by the sudden appearance of an American auto show in central Stockholm, it would take some time to absorb the highly-familiar yet somehow 'not quite right' sights and sounds of the evening. It was a bit like witnessing a catastrophic car accident. It all seemed real enough at the time, but there remains an aftertaste of disbelief, a sense that it was all an illusion, right down to the the raggare with the 1947 Volvo "Pilsner" having a round of its namesake. This brush with an exaggerated, 'idealized' Americana honestly left me with a bit of 'culture shock' and I must admit, a wistful longing for the freedom and down-to-earth people of Wisconsin.