Breakfast
Years ago, a friend of mine, who was a Canadian Naval officer, invited me along for family day on an older wooden hulled mine sweeper, which was still being used as a training vessel. Sailing the strait of Juan De Fuca off Vancouver Island, it was cold on the open bridge. We ate lunch in the tiny officers mess and I was absolutely ravenous. I learned that aside from old ships still in use, the crews ate very well indeed. That memory came flooding back when we walked past the Coast Guard Ship, Samuel Risley, and glanced in the portholes to see the crew having breakfast.
Breakfast
Years ago, a friend of mine, who was a Canadian Naval officer, invited me along for family day on an older wooden hulled mine sweeper, which was still being used as a training vessel. Sailing the strait of Juan De Fuca off Vancouver Island, it was cold on the open bridge. We ate lunch in the tiny officers mess and I was absolutely ravenous. I learned that aside from old ships still in use, the crews ate very well indeed. That memory came flooding back when we walked past the Coast Guard Ship, Samuel Risley, and glanced in the portholes to see the crew having breakfast.