From deck to garden: The steady compass of a ship captain
BY ANDY DALISAY
Even in retirement, Captain Robinson Batan’s days unfold with the precision of a ship’s logbook. Where once he paced steel decks and issued job orders to his crew, he now tends to his ornamental and vegetable gardens, repairs household fixtures and manages his vacant lots with the same methodical resolve. “I see to it that every day, like onboard, I accomplish something,” he says. The cadence of his life remains anchored in purpose—only now, the backdrop is a quiet home rather than the vast, unpredictable sea.
Captain Batan’s transition from shipmaster to home steward is not a tale of slowing down, but of recalibration. Gone are the 24/7 duties and the pressure of command, replaced by a self-imposed discipline that mirrors his decades at sea. “There’s no pressure, no time limit,” he reflects. “Anytime you think you want to rest, you can rest.” Yet rest is rarely his default. Rain may halt his gardening, but it simply redirects him indoors, where tasks await and idleness is never entertained. His ethos remains unchanged: adapt, act and stay engaged.
Though his days are now land-bound, Captain Batan’s heart still sails. After 44 years at sea, the ocean is etched into his identity. He speaks of his career with reverence and warmth, recalling the thrill of visiting over 60 countries, the camaraderie of shipboard life and the pride of rising through the ranks from Ordinary Seaman to Master Mariner. “I terribly miss my job at sea,” he admits. “Also, the fun, challenges and experiences in visiting different countries around the globe.”
His journey was anything but linear. Not a sponsored cadet by any shipping company, Captain Batan began at the bottom, slowly climbing the ladder through grit and perseverance. He faced setbacks—being bypassed for promotion despite promises—but never let disappointment steer him off course. “Maybe my time has not yet arrived,” he told himself. And eventually, it did. He spent just 14 months as Chief Officer before being promoted to Captain, a proof of his competence and the industry’s urgent need for capable leaders.
Among his most memorable assignments was aboard the Stolt Sakura, where he became its first shipmaster. He fetched the 12,817 dwt chem/oil products tanker from Japan’s Usuki Shipyard, where he remained for two months preparing for the newbuild’s delivery. His Sakura’s helm’s takeover began an engagement that lasted to about four years as the ship’s permanent Master. “Almost every month we had a great party,” he recalls. “We even fabricated a portable swimming pool using scaffolding and canvas, filled with seawater.” The ship frequently called at Manila, allowing crew families to visit onboard—a rare and cherished experience. “Imagine 24 crew members, each with his own wife aboard. The steward had to feed them every day!” he laughs. “It was more than like a whole ship.”
Captain Batan’s leadership extended beyond logistics and navigation. He fostered morale, built trust and created spaces where crew members felt valued. His anecdotes reveal a man who led with integrity, even when pressured to compromise. He recounts a moment early in his command when a superintendent suggested dumping sludge overboard—an illegal act. Captain Batan stood firm. “I told him to send me a black and white copy of his instructions. He didn’t push me after that.” His quiet defiance was not just about legality—it was about principle.
Throughout his career, Captain Batan balanced duty with dignity. He sent his children to reputable private schools, built a comfortable life for his family and maintained strong ties with colleagues. Even now, he regularly meets with a circle of five fellow captains along with some friends from the USA, all former STOLT crew, sharing stories and camaraderie. “We maintain good communication,” he says. “When they come home to the Philippines, we also meet.”
His reflections are tinged with humility and wisdom. He once aspired to be an airline pilot, but financial constraints led him instead to Iloilo Maritime Academy (now JB Lacson Foundation Maritime University). “Schooling was short, job-offered a competitive salary and the chance to go to different places,” he explains. That pragmatic choice blossomed into a lifelong vocation. He commanded 42 ships—all chemical tankers, served as OS to Chief Officer on 22 other vessels and weathered crises—from collisions in the English Channel to mechanical failures in the Atlantic Ocean. Each challenge became a lesson, each voyage a chapter in his evolving story.
Captain Batan also witnessed the shifting tides of maritime regulation. He recalls spending entire vacations on training and certification, a burden that shaped his off-duty life. “No training, no certificate, no dispatch,” he says of the past. Today’s refresher courses are shorter, but the pressure remains. He completed the IMO 6.09 Instructor Training Course, hoping to teach post-retirement, but company policies delayed that goal. “They don’t allow part-time jobs,” he explains. “So I said, okay, I’ll do that upon retirement.”
Now officially retired as of July 2024, Captain Batan is contemplating his next chapter. Teaching remains on the horizon, though he’s mindful of perceptions. “Sometimes I’m ashamed to train at my age,” he confesses. “People might think I haven’t saved enough.” Yet his financial stability is clear, and his desire to share knowledge is rooted in generosity, not necessity. “I’m happy that I shared both my theoretical and work-related experiences to the young generation.”
His legacy is not just in the ships he commanded or the ports and cities he visited—it’s in the values he upheld. “Never give up, always think positive and never waste an opportunity,” he says. These words guided him through setbacks, shaped his leadership and now inform his retirement. Whether tending to his garden or mentoring future mariners, Captain Batan remains a steady compass—grounded, purposeful and quietly inspiring.
As the maritime industry evolves with automation and modern technologies, Captain Batan believes Filipino seafarers will continue to be prioritized by the shipowners. He sees improvements in working conditions and benefits, and hopes crewmen’s rights such as the shore-leave—once restricted post-9/11 and during the pandemic—will be fully restored. “It’s part of the IMO Convention that we should grant the crew their liberty,” he reminds.
In the end, Captain Robin Batan’s story is not just about a career—it’s about character. It’s about the quiet strength of a man who rose from humble beginnings, led with integrity and now cultivates his home with the same care he once gave to his ship. His days may no longer be logged in nautical miles, but they are still measured in purpose, resilience and heart.SF
Photos courtesy of Capt Robinson Batan