Two years ago this morning, a ship struck the Key Bridge, killing six road crew workers who were patching potholes.
The collapse disrupted operations at the Port of Baltimore, halting shipping for weeks. Much of what Americans buy passes through the major hub, where colossal cranes (known as gantries), massive containers, and crews keep goods flowing.On a foggy weekday morning, Reverend Joshua Messick, the port chaplain, gave a tour of the facility, pointing out both the machinery and the people behind operations.
Driving a turbo-charged Sprinter van, Messick passed mounds of salt and coal along the roadway.
“That's where all the road salt comes in. And so there are dump trucks that have been moving it constantly. That's the soundtrack to my life recently, are these front-end loaders and dump trucks coming around to get salt,” he said.
In 2025, the port ranked second in the nation for imports including salt, sugar, aluminum, and gypsum. It was also a top exporter of coal, which helps meet energy needs abroad. Recent rail upgrades are expected to allow the port to handle 160,000 additional containers annually.
On a recent call with reporters, Mark Schmidt, president and CEO of Ports America Chesapeake, said the future of container shipping has never been brighter, referencing the near completion of the Howard Street Tunnel Project.
Of the Port’s 50 million tons of total cargo last year, about 11.1 million tons were autos, farm machinery and construction equipment, said Maryland Port Administration Executive Director Jonathan Daniels. Forest products such as rolled paper and wood pulp moved through the port too.
The total cargo handled was worth $65.6 billion, which officials say is the third-highest value in the Port’s history.
At the Dundalk Marine Terminal, Messick drove slowly past trucks and cranes, careful not to disrupt the flow of goods.
“I'm anxious about getting in people's way. I don't want to cause an accident,” he admitted.
The Episcopalian priest ministers to seafarers arriving from all over the world. He typically boards 150 vessels a month, climbing steep gangways to check on crews. But at the berth of the Ace Endeavor, a U.S.-flagged ship, Messick hesitated.
“Looks like they're busy. I don't think we'll go on board; they've got some military things. We're not supposed to see it anyway,” he warned, observing a choreographed rush to keep cargo moving.
It’s easy to get caught up in the machinery. For Messick, the heart of the port, lies with the people including the seven-member crew of the Dali, who remain waiting to serve as government witnesses after a power failure sent the ship into the bridge.
“Their lives are incredibly boring,” Messick said. “They don't have social security numbers. They've just been kind of stuck. They're bored to tears. They don't have cars. One bought a bike and had it immediately stolen.”
He added that some crew members had formed small connections, playing cricket or socializing with other Hindus, Buddhists or the diasporan Indian community.“That's been helpful, but it's still not the same as home,” Messick said.
Beyond the Dali crew, seafarers face constant vulnerability. They spend months away from home and can be abandoned if companies decide operating costs are too high. Cultural differences onboard add another layer of complexity.
“Crews are frequently mixed, and the officers are the ones that decide what kind of food they buy. On many ships, the officers are Italian, the regular seafarers are Filipino. And the Italians will buy pasta, but not rice, and that makes the Filipinos very upset,” Messick said.
He has also encountered ships with both Ukrainian and Russian crew members, despite the ongoing war between their countries. Perhaps the starkest reality is when a worker dies at sea. Messick explained that bodies are kept in the ship’s walk-in refrigerator, forcing cooks and crewmates to step over them until the next port.
For seafarers already working in isolation and danger, it’s a reminder of how far from home they really are.
“I really hope that people don’t just see the ships coming and going, but stop to ask, who makes this happen, and why does it matter to me?” Messick said reflecting on the often-invisible workers who have contributed to the port’s recovery.
