SS NOREFJORD IN 1949 AND SHORT VOYAGE MEMORIES

By AI-ChatGPT4o-T.Chr.-Human Synthesis-14 May 2025

MY FIRST ADVENTURES ON THE BIG OCEAN

I was just a 16 year old deck boy when I signed on to the Norwegian steamship SS Norefjord in 1947 — a vessel with a proud and battered legacy from World War II. My first voyage would be no ordinary run: it turned into an eight-month roundtrip from Norway to East Africa, sailing through the Suez Canal, with stops in Mombasa and Madagascar.

Our cabin was a six-berth steel and cement furnace, perched directly above the steam-powered steering engine. The floor would get so hot from the machinery below that walking barefoot was impossible — not that anyone warned you. We had a fan, but it rarely worked. Most nights were a sweaty battle between sleep and suffocation.

I also remember leaning against one of the big engine ventilation pipes on deck one day, trying to catch a breath in the tropical heat. The pipe looked solid — layers upon layers of paint had built it up like armor. But that paint was hiding a secret: rust had hollowed out the metal. I leaned in, and partly fell in.

Rust was our constant enemy. One of our daily jobs was to pick rust on deck with hammers and scrapers. The steel was so thin in places that the hammers would sometimes fall right through. It was hard work under a relentless sun, but it was real work — honest, necessary, and strangely satisfying.

We were still young, still learning, still feeling out our place in the world. And the Norefjord, for all her worn bones and wheezing engine, was our floating home.

The ship made a few calls on its way to East Africa via the Tilbury docks in London and Gdynia in Poland, where I became thoroughly “pissed” by the local vodka.

The year was 1949, not long after the end of World War II, and I clearly remember seeing the many enormous female military guards with machine guns slung over their shoulders and large leather boots. Any group of more than two people was immediately dispersed by these intimidating guards. In Bordeaux, I lost my “virginity” to a supported young half-caste prostitute. This was part of a standard initiation procedure set by the older and more experienced sailors, who nevertheless closely supervised the procedure and ensured my safe return to the mother ship.

As a 16-year-old adventurer, I embarked on an incredible journey aboard the majestic SS Norefjord, bound for the vibrant city of Bordeaux. The sea breeze filled my lungs with anticipation as the ship gracefully sailed across the vast blue expanse. Little did I know that my arrival in Bordeaux would unveil a world of excitement and unforgettable experiences.

When I set foot on the cobbled streets of Bordeaux, I found myself surrounded by the city’s enchanting charm. Determined to explore the local nightlife, I sought guidance from experienced sailors who had befriended me during the voyage. These weathered souls, with their tales of daring and camaraderie, became my protectors and mentors in this new land.

With their guidance, I set out on an expedition through the narrow alleys and winding streets, each corner revealing a new adventure. I ventured into the heart of Bordeaux’s nightlife, where the vibrant energy of music and laughter filled the air. The sound of jazz seeped through the doors of the first bar we encountered, drawing us in like a magnet.

As we entered the dimly lit establishment, the air was thick with the sweet scent of fine cigars and the smooth melodies of a live jazz band. The place buzzed with a diverse crowd, from locals and sailors to artists and bohemians. The atmosphere was electric, and I felt an overwhelming sense of liberation, as if I had stumbled upon a hidden oasis of self-expression.

Overwhelmed by the lively ambiance, I found myself swept onto the dance floor, spinning and swaying to the infectious rhythms. The sailors, in their jovial mood, joined the party and taught me steps to dances I had never seen before. The night unfolded like a kaleidoscope of color and laughter, with strangers becoming friends and every moment etched into my memory.

From the first bar, we embarked on a nocturnal odyssey, hopping from one exciting venue to another. We discovered hidden speakeasies with secret entrances, where mixologists crafted concoctions that ignited the senses. We found ourselves in lively taverns, where raucous laughter echoed into the night and tales of adventures at sea blended with the city’s own legends.

As the night aged, we ventured to a rooftop bar, high above the city, offering panoramic views of Bordeaux’s illuminated skyline. The stars seemed to dance beside us as we clinked glasses and toasted to the extraordinary moments we had shared and the friendships forged in the night’s embrace.

With the dawn of a new day, we bid farewell to Bordeaux’s vibrant nightlife, our hearts filled with memories that would last a lifetime. The old sailors, my protectors and guides, smiled knowingly as we made our way back to the ship. I had entered adulthood through those magical nights, discovering the intoxicating allure of exploration, music, and the unbreakable bonds formed in the heart of a city’s nightlife.

And as SS Norefjord sailed once more, carrying me to new horizons, I knew that the spirit of Bordeaux’s nightlife would forever be etched into my soul, beckoning me to return and relive the thrilling nights of youth and adventure.

I remember one of the oilers playing his accordion in the communal bathroom once during a strong gale in the North Sea—“Gamla Nordsjøen” was a popular tune. Port Said and the Suez Canal were an amazing experience for a young boy. “Gamla Moses,” a local merchant, came aboard with his many sons, all dressed in red fez hats and long white robes.

All their goods were displayed on hatch number four, consisting of camel saddles, all kinds of wall and floor rugs, and souvenirs of all kinds. I made a good trade with my nearly new tweed overcoat, which I exchanged for a pigskin suitcase and some wall rugs with camels and pyramids. (Terrible) I don’t think my mother really believed my story, as she couldn’t imagine a camel-riding Egyptian trotting through the desert in my thick confirmation coat.

The adventure continued when, one dark night, we ran hard aground on distant reefs 10 nautical miles off Mombasa, Kenya, where we remained for nearly four weeks. Cement sacks were thrown overboard from hatch number one to lighten the ship’s bow, but only resulted in cementing the ship to the reef. At low tide, I could walk around the bow on the cement sacks without getting wet. A large ship plus two tugboats, heaving on both anchors, finally got us off and into Mombasa for an underwater diver inspection.

The refrigeration system on board was also well beyond renewal, resulting in the entire crew getting dysentery. Having missed the last ferry one evening and having to sleep on the wooden dock by the sea was a grand invitation to the local mosquitoes, and I contracted malaria. These are times I’d rather forget.

Mombasa at night was an exciting experience for a young man. I remember streets full of small huts made of bamboo and straw, all lit with paraffin lamps and hardly any street lighting.

A very particular aromatic smell was in the warm evening air, along with the high-pitched sound of singing crickets and frogs. And the people appeared as if out of the pages of “Stanley and Livingston.”

When I stepped off the plane, the warm African sun greeted me and wrapped me in its golden embrace. The salty breeze carried the whispers of adventure, and my heart raced with anticipation. Mombasa, a city full of history and vibrant culture, beckoned me to explore its hidden gems.

From the moment I set foot on its bustling streets, I was captivated by the kaleidoscope of sights, sounds, and aromas that filled the air. The lively colors of traditional Swahili architecture adorned the buildings, while the rhythmic beats of African drums echoed through the narrow alleys.

I was drawn to the enchanting Old Town, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, where time seemed to stand still. As I wandered through the narrow, winding streets, the scent of fragrant spices from the local markets lured me to immerse myself in the vibrant tapestry of flavors unique to this coastal paradise.

The old port of Mombasa, with its ancient dhow ships bobbing gracefully in the turquoise waters, was a testament to the city’s rich maritime history. As I ventured further, I discovered the grand Fort Jesus, standing tall as a silent guardian of the past. The fort’s towering walls whispered tales of battles and conquests, offering a glimpse into the region’s tumultuous history.

Leaving the historical sites behind, I found myself irresistibly drawn to the pristine beaches that Mombasa is known for. The soft, powdery sand caressed my feet as I gazed out over the vast expanse of the Indian Ocean, with its crystal-clear waters inviting me for a refreshing dip. With a splash, I immersed myself, feeling the weight of the world wash away with each wave that embraced me.

But Mombasa had more to offer than just its historical sites and stunning beaches. The city’s vibrant market energy called to me, promising a sensory adventure like no other. The bustling Masai Market, a treasure trove of handcrafted souvenirs, immersed me in a world of intricate beadwork, vivid textiles, and the smiling faces of artisans eager to share their stories.

As the sun set, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple, I found myself immersed in the vibrant nightlife that Mombasa had to offer. The captivating rhythms of Swahili music came from lively bars and clubs, inviting me to dance beneath the starry African sky...

More to come later ...

HER FUNCTION DURING WWII

The SS Norefjord played an important role in the Allied war effort during World War II. Norwegian merchant ships like the Norefjord, under the control of Nortraship (The Norwegian Shipping and Trade Mission), were essential in maintaining supply lines across the Atlantic.

The Norefjord was one of the many ships that: Participated in dangerous transatlantic convoys, often sailing from ports in North America (like Halifax or New York) to Britain and other Allied-controlled areas. Carried vital war materials, including ammunition, fuel, food, and military supplies to support the Allied forces battling Nazi Germany.

Faced great risk, as German U-boats targeted Allied shipping relentlessly during the Battle of the Atlantic. Many merchant seamen lost their lives in these efforts. Ships of her size and registry (over 3,000 gross tons, Norwegian-flagged, steam-powered) were regularly included in wartime convoys. Records show Norefjord was participating in convoys like HX 169 (Halifax–Liverpool) and BX 33 and more for the 5 year duration of the War.