The morning is spent running between the offices of the port agents, having our boarding letters prepared. In the office I meet Markus, the only other passenger on the ship. Cargo ships only ever take a maximum of five or six passengers (plus stowaways, of course) and the agent explained that often they are friends of the captain, elderly, in search of the slow pace of life aboard.
But by a stroke of luck, Markus is also a young, starry-eyed and equally excited traveller, en route southwards from his home in Finland. Double-checking our passports, the agent says that we are the youngest travellers he's ever dealt with.
It feels good to be side-by-side with another backpacker as we tramp across an empty service bridge into the port, and we share a silent moment as we catch our first glimpse of CMA CGM Lamartine, looming in wait alongside the pier and stealing away any view of the sea or the sky as we approach.
The cranes stand on the quayside with their necks reared over the deck, gently lowering onto it container upon container from the tiny lorries below. A metal staircase has been run down the port-side of the ship, which bounces with ever step as we too climb onto the back of this huge, majestic beast.
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