Sneakers, drones and Berger cookies: Inside the Port of Baltimore, these locals help seafarers get what they need

Seafarers aboard the Anglo Alexandria were eager to finish loading coal into the belly of the bulk carrier moored at the Port of Baltimore. The captain was craving Texas-style barbecue and a bearded dockworker with “Gravy” embroidered across his jacket wanted to know who could escort the international crew onto land for a provisions run.

Several stories below on the dock, the Rev. Josh Messick gripped the gangway’s soot- and salt-crusted rope handle to board the Anglo Alexandria, with a trash bag full of goodies for the seafarers slung over his shoulder.

To be a seafarer means spending months — sometimes a year or more — living on international waters, where internet connections are limited and isolation boundless. Messick and his tiny team at the Port of Baltimore say their job is to greet visiting seafarers with a warm welcome and a question: What do you need?

“Everyone’s always happy to see me,” the Episcopal priest said. “I get to meet people all over the world. They tell me their stories and what they’re missing at home.”

Visiting the Port of Baltimore is a lot like peeking under the hood of the world’s engine. Each year, about 2,000 ships pass through its public and private piers hauling billions of dollars in goods and materials such as sugar and coal, luxury cars and carnival ride parts, furniture and farm equipment. A daily ballet of cranes, trucks and trains keep the imports and exports moving through the hub.

Still, much of that activity happens out of Marylanders’ sight, creating a phenomenon Messick calls “sea blindness.” The port’s busy terminals are tucked in the city’s periphery.

Rarely do the estimated 30,000 to 50,000 international seafarers who pass through the Port of Baltimore each year attract notice. And out of the nearly 140,000 jobs linked to the Port of Baltimore, just a miniscule fraction of them cater specifically to the needs of ships’ crews.

Many crews rely on help from two organizations: the Baltimore International Seafarers’ Center near Fort McHenry, which is run by Messick and affiliated with the Episcopal Church, and the Stella Maris International Seafarers’ Center in Dundalk, which is affiliated with the Catholic Church. Some are represented by the Seafarers International Union.

Seafarers coming through Baltimore typically have precious few days — sometimes just hours — to stock up on basic necessities such as toiletries, warm clothes and snacks, and crucial forms of entertainment, such as drones and gaming consoles, that they use to pass the time during voyages.

Those who are cleared to leave their ships often call on Messick and about 10 volunteers for rides to retail hubs or the seafarer center, where they can access a reliable internet connection to get in touch with family. For those who can’t leave their ships, the center volunteers hand-deliver Amazon parcels and, during the winter months, care packages complete with toiletries, hand-knit hats and scarves, Berger cookies and a souvenir Baltimore postcard.

“Some folks don’t expect it at all,” Messick said of the care packages. “When they realize people in the community put it together for them, they’re so happy. It goes a long way. ... It reminds them somebody was thinking of them.”

Messick, whose own family has a strong maritime background, took over the Baltimore International Seafarers’ Center about two years ago. The Eastern Shore native said he’s grown passionate about ministering to the vital yet vulnerable workers who live far away from community supports. Running the seafarer center within the Port of Baltimore is a dream job, he said.

Subarus were finally rolling off of the Hoegh Berlin on Dec. 7 and the Filipino crew was cleared to go on land. Seafarer John Belalo’s Nike sneaker had a hole in the sole. And Rolin Bitas wanted to buy a few pairs for his parents back home.

They had less than a day before the roll-on-roll-off cargo ship would set sail for a 10-day voyage to Southampton Port in the United Kingdom. So, six crew members followed Messick like a mother duck down the Norwegian ship’s ramp to one of the center’s silver vans parked on the Dundalk terminal. They buckled their seatbelts and stacked the crew list, visas and passport photocopies to present at the security checkpoint on their way to the Arundel Mills shopping mall.

American ports weren’t always so strict about entry and exit, said Ervin Tomilluso. The 38-year-old native of the Philippines, who has worked as a seafarer for 20 years, recalled how trips to the mainland became harder after security tightened in the wake of the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attack on the World Trade Center.

The COVID-19 pandemic ushered in even more restrictions for seafarers that tethered them to their ships even when moored a tantalizing few feet from land. Nations treated seafarers with suspicion that they would bring disease from abroad, Messick said.

“They were unfairly stigmatized and isolated,” he said. Messick believes seafarers were indispensable during the lockdowns, when many people on land were placing orders and getting deliveries to their door. “They were the people making that happen.”

These days, Tomilluso said he and his peers rely heavily on seafarer centers and people like Messick for rides — especially when ports are located far from urban centers or retail districts. Inside Arundel Mills, the seafarers fanned out in pairs across the sprawling shopping center.

Belalo was easy to spot wearing the bright green hand-knit hat and scarf that came from the winter care packages Messick delivered to the crew a day prior. He wandered through the aisles of a shoe store comparing prices to the sneakers he saw during a similar stop in Jacksonville, Florida. The 31-year-old was seven months through a nine-month contract and mulling over what sort of presents to bring home to his wife and 3-year-old.

A few aisles over, Bitas slipped on a pair of sneakers to see how they felt. The 26-year-old was still finding his sea legs during his very first contract. Bad weather struck an earlier part of the voyage between the Philippines and Japan, reminding the rookie of the Titanic. He brushed off the thought and went back to looking for shoes.

After two decades at sea, Tomilluso is less concerned with souvenirs or poor weather. His favorite ports to visit are the ones closest to parks, where he can stretch his legs and gaze at something green.

“It’s an abnormal life for normal people,” Tomilluso said.

Even with the help of the Baltimore International Seafarers’ Center and its volunteers, some crews never get the chance to set foot on Maryland soil.

After Messick boarded the Anglo Alexandria, he unloaded about 25 care packages from his sack, each with a Christmas card addressed to a “Seafaring friend.”

“All for this ship?” an officer asked.

Messick nodded before adding that the crew need only call him with an hour’s notice if they wanted an escort on land.

The seafarers never called. The Anglo Alexandria’s crew set sail again for a 30-day voyage to India without ever leaving the ship.

Lillian Reed

lillian.reed@thebaltimorebanner.com

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