Tuesday, September 3, 2013

Customs and Immigration, by Bob



What is my biggest fear of this cruising life-style?  For me it’s not wind or waves or broken engines or torn sails, no, it’s the human confrontation with bureaucracy that is necessary when entering and leaving a country.

Bahamas…It ruined half a day for me in the Bahamas and I still think the official took us for an extra $150.  Thankfully Kim was with me for this one.  I don’t believe she shares the same fear as me for this process.

Bermuda…As my father and I approached Bermuda on our Atlantic crossing we read a list of warnings and requirements and money needed for stopping for a night and it created a 150NM force field that Midwatch could not penetrate.  They also require VHF radio contact as you approach which is probably my second biggest fear of cruising.

Azores…My Dad watched me agonize a third time with negative anticipation as we approached the Azores.  The more I read the guide books about the entrance details the more I became paralyzed by dread of the whole thing.  I dodged that particular bullet when a storm threatened to trap us there allowing for a decision to scrap our entrance.

Yes I would rather confront a storm any day…for real…but one of our goals for this trip is to confront our fears and move outside our comfort zone.  So I continue to try.

Ireland…Dad and I were motor sailing slowly through the fog along the coast with about two hours to go before we would reach Cork.  I had just set the yellow quarantine flag and retrieved the folder with all our ship’s papers and read the entrance requirements.  I sat down in the cockpit and prepared to set myself in a real foul mood in anticipation of our arrival.  Dad even warned me that I was not to scrap Ireland and head straight for the Caledonian Canal in Scotland…he knew I was thinking just that!  While Dad was avoiding eye contact with me to avoid watching me freak out he said “Hey look at that boat approaching”.  I looked towards where he was pointing…sure enough a vessel was heading straight for us at a high rate of speed.  I think we both knew even before we read the word “Custaims” on the side of the boat that we were going to be boarded by the authorities.  It all happened so quickly I didn’t have any time to lose it.  This one actually turned into a pretty cool experience.  They also took it easier on us because we had not stopped at the Azores which was probably not a good lesson for me to learn.

We were travelling at about five knots and the Customs boat matched our speed at a distance about 500 feet away.  There was a long moment of awkward silence with us looking at each other through binoculars so I radioed and asked them what they would like me to do?  That seemed to get a good response.  They just said in a good natured tone “Maintain course and speed and we will board you momentarily”.  With Midwatch on auto pilot we watched them launch an inflatable off a ramp on their stern with three uniformed officers.  They motored over and two officers carefully came over the starboard rail by the shrouds where we directed them.  Five knots normally feels pretty slow but it feels infinitely faster when you are being boarded at sea.  The inflatable was driven steadily just off our starboard quarter by the third officer throughout the inspection.  They were professional and courteous.  They went through all our papers and searched the boat and chatted with us for some time.  Then it was over.  They let us take pictures and my Dad even took a movie of them leaving.  That evening at the dock in Ireland more customs officials came to meet us but kindly retreated when they learned we had been boarded.  They also let us off without going through immigration.  They witnessed the emotion of our family reunited and listened to my dad give the exhilarating tale of being boarded earlier so when I asked about immigration they simply said “Don’t worry about it, you’re good!”


 
Northern Ireland and Scotland:  Fortunately we were covered for these countries and all we had to do was change courtesy flags a couple of times and fax some paperwork to the government when leaving Scotland.  Kim did the bulk of it…all I had to do was sign my name…thanks Kim!


Norway…my confidence had grown and I was determined to show no fear on this one.  When we entered Norway at midnight we still had eight hours of motoring to get to Bergen where we would go through the Toll (Customs).  I was busy driving the boat all night and I was good and tired from the North Sea beating so I just didn’t have much in me to get myself worked up.  As we approached Bergen, I had to slow down and let a cruise ship go under a bridge in front of us…this was one of many that were docked in this town (the center of tourism for the fjord area of Norway).  We found the commercial wharf where the customs building was located through a guidebook.  As I was turning the boat to tie up I could see rats going in and out of holes in the rock foundation of the wharf (Norway Rats)…yuck!  We secured ourselves along the stone quay protected by old tractor tires and held ourselves off with two layers of bumpers and boards (nasty dock).  As ship’s captain I gathered my paperwork and courage and stepped ashore to meet with the officials.  I found the building easily enough from the map in the guidebook but when I reached the door there was a sign that said they had moved.  Fortunately it was not far away and some nice Norwegian used her fine English skills to point me to the proper door.  I entered the offices which were new and clean.  There were two gentlemen sitting at their computers and I had to excuse myself to get noticed.  I told them I had just arrived on a yacht and that I was tied up at their dock just around the corner.  The younger officer fussed with his computer for a few minutes and then called the older officer over to help.  The older officer took over and said there was a problem with the computer system and that I would need to come back later.  He also said that I needed to visit immigration at the police station on the other side of town and he printed me a map.  I asked if I should take my family and he said that would not be necessary.  I agreed to come back after lunch.

So, I went back to Midwatch and told Kim what was going on and then headed for the police station.  By now I was getting really tired almost to the point of involuntary tears but I was saved by the fact that it was a beautiful sunny morning and the walk felt really good.  I found the police station after walking a block too far.  The building had an information desk where a clerk sent me to a room down the hall.  The person there sent me to another room where I was sent back to the clerk who sent me to a different office.  This final office had a screen displaying numbers in what they call a ‘Queue’.  Apparently you are supposed to register on the internet to get a place in the Queue and then when your number is posted you can speak to someone.  Well that wasn’t going to work for me so I budged in line as soon as an opening came up.  This person made a phone call and told me to wait for an immigration officer who would come “down” shortly.   I sat in a plastic chair watching people struggle with immigration issues for about an hour.  Finally, a mountain of a man showed up in his fancy police uniform.  He listened to my situation and asked “Where are your wife and children”?   He would not stamp their passports without seeing them so he agreed to meet me later.  So back to Midwatch I plodded.  This time I walked along the town docks where visitors tied up and where we would need to go after we finished with these formalities.  The docks were filled with yachts that were rafted three deep…what a pain in the ass!

Back at Midwatch I told Kim the situation so we all got out.  We decided to try Customs again and this time they were ready.  They didn’t have any paperwork in English so the older gentleman interpreted.  The only real concern was if we had any alcohol on board, cooking sherry doesn’t count.  So with this completed we set off for the police station.  We walked in and were confronted with a sign on the information desk that they were closed for lunch!  Again, I think the only way I kept my cool was because I was so over tired I was like the human version of silly putty.

With this news we set off to waste time and perhaps get a bite to eat at the famous Fish Market in Bergen.  It was pretty awesome, and so were the prices.  Fortunately Kim could figure the conversions quickly because I might have spent all our money on the freakishly expensive smoked salmon.  The crowd was enormous…remember there were at least three cruise ships in town, including the QE II.  We did weasel some free samples and I got to eat some Minke Whale which I quite enjoyed.  It was accurately described as a cross between tuna and beef.

When we figured lunch time was over we went back to the police station and had the information clerk phone the immigration officer and then found a bench where we sat and watched all kinds of interesting people coming and going for the next hour.  Another family arrived from Australia; they were getting off a cruise ship and they needed their passports stamped as well.  This led to a bunch of confusion when the officer finally showed up.  In the end Finn saved us, lightening the mood with his wit.  We were told that it was extremely important to have our passports stamped again when leaving the country…Ugh!

So after a full and agonizing day of entrance formalities I was finally able to take a nap in the sun in the cockpit of Midwatch.  I felt that we had earned the right to leave Midwatch at the Customs dock for the night instead of rafting up in town and I felt damned good about loading some particularly stinky garbage in their dumpster.  Kim felt bad about it and tried to pay for docking at the tourist information center where they told her to forget about it…thank goodness.

We have now completed our tour of Norway and we survived having our passports stamped when departing which is another story I will not bore you with.  Back in Scotland they let us through the Caledonian Canal with a signature and copies of our passport photos faxed to customs…minimally invasive.

Kim has started keeping a fun photo log of Midwatch dressed in various courtesy flags here is what we have so far.





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