The history of mankind is the history of supply chains. As early as 3000 BC, when the cities of the Bronze Age in the Indus Valley traded in carnelian beads in Sumer, Omani vases and lapis lazuli from Afghanistan, the growth and development of our world was carried on the backs wrapped on the beasts, drawn in carts, sailed on ships and were transported in the trucks of merchants and passengers, who made and earned their living by transporting goods.
Take the elevator a long distance by truck, as I did, and you’ll see the world from a startling new angle. Countless trucks that move every day and night, and the country are the red blood cells of the circulation of our planet. Yet this circulation has seldom been so erratic. Falls and jumps in oil demand and prices, heart rate in the global pulse caused by Covid-19, war, sanctions, Brexit, extreme weather conditions and container congestion threatened the system. The mess is written in gaps on the shelves of supermarkets.
Janet Yellen, the US Treasury Secretary, said recently: “Our supply chains are insecure and unsustainable. . . this is a threat that needs to be addressed. “
In Dorchester, southern England, I joined an important supply chain last month, traveling in two trucks carrying aid for refugee children in Ukraine. Our destination was Suceava in Romania, 1600 miles away, and my prejudices began to crumble in the first 10 minutes, when it became clear that we would not use satellite navigation. Forget the predictability of smoothly drawn routes and timelines. Container ships follow these, as I discovered when I traveled with them. Road freight is a very special and exciting business.
“We will not succeed,” Ian said six days later on a hands-free cell phone from his truck. We had traced the blue back of his huge 40-ton DAF truck with 460 hp. all over Europe to Suceava, guided by memory cards in Ian’s head. I rode in the second truck with Charlie Bailey, 23, owner of the British General Haulage, driver of one of his company’s three trucks and employer and student of the 23-year-old cargo veteran Ian Payne.
Their driving time was running out, which is monitored, along with breaks, by tachographs in their cabins. Night was approaching, the day before we had crossed all of Austria and Hungary, and today a thick part of Romania. Now we needed parking, food, sleep and ideally showers. Ian’s first choice is out of range, we moved on to his second.
They move the world. That the world remains largely motionless by them does not seem fair or correct
Our mission saw more than 200 volunteers fill boxes with over 10,000 children’s backpacks full of supplies. But it is very good for caring people to organize a mission to help Ukraine. Without two men with licenses for Class 1 heavy vehicles and the kind of know-how to travel that can be won, all you get are tons of good intentions sitting in a warehouse in Dorset.
Without the knowledge, experience and carelessness of the drivers, we would never have reached the delivery deadline in Romania. As we thundered into that first night, avoiding checkpoints and weigh-ins, gathering information on queues at Dover and chaotic ferries (P&O was out of action due to failed ship inspections), we watched for police, tight turns and bad drivers. we watched constantly from tachographs monitored by hundreds of automated number cameras, I began to understand how resilient and resourceful drivers like Charlie and Ian are and how complex and annoying their world is. No satnavigation shows the truth about road transport.
And no computer would design this world of commerce the way politicians do, with the chaotic hurdles caused by Brexit, such as requiring trucks to go to the Republic of Ireland from the United Kingdom to present 700 pages of documents that take eight hours of preparation.
Ian Payne, 23-year-old long-distance truck driver: “We tracked his 40-ton truck across Europe with memory cards in his head” © Mary Turner for The Financial Times
Archie Norman, chairman of Marks and Spencer, said this week: “Some of the descriptors, especially of animal products, have to be written in Latin and in a certain font. Each sandwich containing butter, he said, requires an EU veterinary certificate, which means hiring 13 veterinarians and budgeting 30 per cent more time for the driver.
The six-mile queues in Dover and the 18-mile lines in Calais this year were caused by post-Brexit inspections, aggravated by a small number of trucks with incorrect documentation.
We can expect more delays in September, when a new security system may require drivers to leave their vehicles for face or body scans, and more next year, when trucks will be inspected at the new internal border in Sevington, near Ashford, Kent.
The metaphor of “supply chains” makes the process sound orderly and smooth, but at first this journey was more like an adventure through a wild ecosystem in which we were prey, racing between safe habitats such as truck parks and gas stations, pursued by the authorities. , legislation and customs rules that seek to charge, delay or stop us.
It was not that the trucks had any shortcomings to bother the police or the Driver and Vehicle Standards Agency, which regulates the transport of goods in the UK. It was that many drivers hated and avoided DVSA and checkpoints of all kinds in all countries.
“They are not on your side. They go out to catch you. It’s like they want to punish you for doing your job, “Ian said. “They want to fine you and take your money.”
Heavy trucks waiting to board ferries at Dover Harbor last month © Mary Turner
DVSA has an A243 checkpoint. So we went through Calais, Baston, Luxembourg, Karlsruhe, Munich, Vienna, Budapest and a small place in Romania called Jurka (a single track of crumbling asphalt over a hill, with power lines touching the wing mirrors), but you’ll never take A243 to Leatherhead.
As we reached Dover, after escaping from the truck the police were assembling on the M20 as it descended the A20, I saw my companions as adventurous merchants, dazzlingly resourceful, quick to improvise, cunning and fun as hell.
“Don’t start Ian with Covid,” Charlie warned me. “He won’t stop.”
Ian and I disagree about Covid, immigration, Brexit, Nigel Farage, history, the shape of the Earth and the BBC. We agree on everything that really matters. I recorded our trip for a Radio 4 documentary “I’m Writing the Road to War.” They approved, to some extent. I have practiced caffeine diplomacy on them in every service.
“Cappuccino with sugar, latte a lot of sugar!” I cried. “According to the BBC. You will be big fans until we get there. “
“Never!” Ian responded and started the government-controlled fake media. He transported the continent by truck during the pandemic, without filling out passenger-finding forms at all, overcoming disputes with border guards.
Charlie, Ian and people like them (there are women truck drivers – I saw two in 10 days) think they have no political influence. Transport unions, the Freight Association and their deputies say they are not defending or defending their interests.
Britain, their favorite country among the dozens who travel, offers them dangerously bad food, extortionate and harsh places to stop, greedy and harassing surveillance, low status and zero agency.
Ian in his cabin. His advice to anyone thinking of becoming a driver: “Don’t do it. Not worth it “© Mary Turner
I asked Ian for advice on anyone thinking of becoming a driver, given the shortage of carriers after Brexit in 2021, when some supermarkets offered salaries of £ 56,000.
“Do not do it. It’s not worth it, “he said.
The way your money is taken from you is part of the problem. The driver actually makes about £ 700 net, Ian says, in exchange for more than 70 hours. Amazed by the way we were taxed and charged during the trip, I imagined caravans of camels chased by hyenas. Recreation areas, borders, highways and road networks of entire nations want to pay constantly.
Consider licenses, maintenance, diesel, subscriptions to brokerage websites where freight forwarders offer freight and tariffs, plus fixed travel costs, and you have thin margins. They were then stopped by French police.
Charlie loves his business and his truck life. He hopes to expand to five trucks. But you have to hear about France and the gendarmerie. Henry V would blush. If your truck can travel more than 56 miles per hour, no matter how fast you do it, they can fine you.
They like to check your tacho. It is almost impossible not to break the tacho. You have to stop at intervals for a minimum time – but let’s say you have nowhere to stop, you are on deadline, under severe pressure from your employer, you can’t afford the fees for this rest area, your driving time is up and you’re detained for traffic or road works, you are late. You exceed the set driving time, the police or an inspector checks your tacho and they fine you.
In the UK, you see trucks from Eastern Europe on small roads and parked in strange places, because many of their drivers receive less than 100 euros a day.
Do you spend half of that on a relaxation area? No – you carry and cook your own food, defecate in the bushes, stay without a shower for weeks. By supporting your family, you are away for months, taking loads from wherever you are to wherever they want, all the time. You become hard and cunning.
Decades ago, Ian was interviewed for a job.
“How long can you stay awake?”
“Three days?” he said.
“You are not good to me. I don’t need maneuvers, “came the answer. It was a legendary carrier that sent trucks from England to Kazakhstan, to the Chinese border, to Africa. Traveling non-stop to Italy or Spain would be nothing then and is hardly a reason for comment among drivers now, if it could pass.
“Some drivers took speed [amphetamine]”Ian said. “It’s not me. There was …
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