Red-winged blackbirds are back

Less than a week ago the groundhog here in Kelowna, British Columbia, popped out of his hole, peered around the brown landscape, did not see his shadow, and pronounced winter over. [For those outside North America, here's a good explanation of the folklore of Groundhog Day.]

Today, the sixth day of February, spring hit me in the ear. I was setting out on one of my Saturday pleasures, a kilometer’s hike to the Urban Harvest warehouse. That’s where we pick up our week’s supply of organic vegetables.

I was just passing the Waterscapes development (our newest neighbourhood addition of condos and townhouses). Suddenly a trilling sound caught my attention. Though the song was unmistakable, my brain dragged its psychic toes. Red-winged blackbirds set out on their annual migration around mid-February. They couldn’t have arrived so early.

The redwing blackbirds are back early this year, but this photo is from 2009. No leaves on our trees just yet.

But they have, and their song thrilled me as it does every time I hear it. I looked for the bird in the photograph but didn’t see him. We’ll know if he returns, by the featherless patch on his head.

I walked along Brandt’s Creek, listening to the red-winged blackbirds, a song going through my head. It was David Francey’s 1989 song, “Red-Winged Blackbird”. Francey has generously uploaded the song and its lyrics, but don’t stop there. Francey is one of Canada’s finest singer/songwriters. Check out his Web site.

Welcome back, spring. You’re coming after a mild winter. We haven’t had enough snow in the mountains to replenish our water. You haven’t been cold enough to stop the pine beetles munching their way through our forests. But your harbingers are still welcome. Thanks for the song.

Hawaii to Vancouver, May 2 to 8, 2009

We sailed away from Kona, on the big island, while the sun was still well above the horizon. We are on two, back-to-back cruises, repositioning the ship from its summer around Australia and New Zealand to its summer on the Inside Passage to Alaska. Although this part of the cruise began in Honolulu on the 28th of May, it still felt like just more of our extended holiday. But as the ship left the safe harbour of Kona, Robin said, “Now we’re really sailing to Canada.”

And so it feels. An overnight sail out of Kona, five days at sea, a last night’s cruise threading the islands off the coast of Washington and British Columbia, and we’ll awaken in Vancouver. From there we’ll hop a taxi to the Greyhound Bus station. If it runs on time, we’ll pull into the Kelowna station at 4 p.m. Holly will pick us up, and we’ll walk through the door of our condo around 4:30, for the first time since September 15, 2008.

I’m excited and reluctant to return home. I’m in the middle of the ocean being pulled so many ways my limbs may pop off. I’m a nester. I like being in my own space, cooking my own meals, sleeping in my own bed, reading my own books, taking clothes out of a closet instead of a suitcase, enjoying lots of privacy and solitude, sitting at a computer that’s always connected to the Internet, looking at a big screen instead of the tiny one on my laptop, inviting friends over for dinner, shopping at the farmers’ market, walking to the movies or bank or bakery or just moseying along the waterfront. I crave the comfort of the familiar.

Yet here I am, nearly eight months after leaving home, reluctant to see the end of this adventure. Every day has brought something new and stimulating. For the first time in my life, I’ve crossed the equator, seen the Southern Cross, visited tropical paradises, wandered around both islands in New Zealand, and seen more of Australia than most visitors ever do. With so much yet to see, so many people yet to meet, and my 63rd birthday only four months away, how can I stop moving?

My life surprises me. How did a kid from Twin Falls, Idaho, end up living in 34 different homes in 22 cities and 5 countries? That doesn’t include Australia, where we’ve been visitors everywhere we’ve traveled.

The Jewish saying, “Man plans; God laughs”, comes to mind. Long ago I planned to graduate from university, get married, and have a family. I started off that direction, but along the way life happened, and it wasn’t the life I had planned.

When I look back at the bumps and detours and crash landings, I’m happy about the way my life has turned out. If I’d had a crystal ball, I’d have run screaming many times. I didn’t so whatever came way, I just dealt with it – sometimes well, sometimes badly.

I’ll keep on doing that until my time runs out. And, oh, the stories I’ll have to tell.

Life on board the Rhapsody of the Seas

[Written before we arrived in Vancouver]

So, OK, some of you know I came on last September’s cruise reluctantly. I couldn’t imagine spending a month trapped on a ship that was bobbing across the ocean. How boring, like being imprisoned in a resort for weeks on end.

I know a lot of people like resorts. Maybe if I had loads of money I’d find the occasional stay in some exotic resort alluring. But frankly, from my limited experience I get the impression they’re pretty much same-same wherever you travel. Same solicitous service. Same great food. Same comfortable beds. Same high-class accommodations, entertainment, etc. But for local flavour, they’re not a very interesting option.

When I travel I want to be surprised. I want my tastebuds awakened to new flavours. I want to experience something a little more exotic than the kind of comfort I can experience right in my own home, which just happens to be a resort condominium of sorts. (I always find that designation a bit curious when applied to my home. Shouldn’t a “resort” have guest services like food and a well-informed concierge rather than just swimming pools, spas, a gym, and fabulous views?)

At any rate, here we are on our third cruise in a year. The current trip counts as two because it’s really two, back-to-back cruises – Sydney to Honolulu, Honolulu to Vancouver. And my guilty little secret is that I’m having a ball and feeling a bit sad that tomorrow we have to return to ordinary life.

The first part of this cruise we shared the ship with about a thousand Aussies. They were a friendly lot who all seemed to be having a great time. In Honolulu the demographics changed, and we became a ship with a handful of Aussies and a whole lot of Canadians and Americans.

A few things have changed along with the demographics. The casino has been a lot more popular since we left Hawai’i. The entertainers are receiving a lot more standing ovations. And the demand for Vegemite and VB (Victoria Bitters beer) has slacked right off.

Here are the four couples and one woman on her own who shared Table 106

We’ve been at a new table since Hawai’i. The other Canadian couple tried us out one night and decided the Windjammer was a more attractive option. We’re sorry about that because we enjoy talking with them when we see them around the ship. The others have stayed with it. That’s given us the real pleasure of getting to know Art and Cheryl from Seattle (far right in the photo), Jean from Florida (blue dress), Orlando and Linda from Texas (on the left), and Robyn and Jim from Queensland (standing behond Jean).

The latter proved to be the biggest surprise. In that first round of introductions, Jim said he and Robyn were from Australia. I heard America in his accent and wanted to know where he grew up.

“Idaho,” he said.

“Where in Idaho?” I asked.

“Twin Falls,” he replied.

“Twin Falls? That’s where I grew up.” Turns out Jim spent most of his school years in the local Catholic school so the only time our education paths crossed was in 1963-64. That was my senior year, his junior, and the one year we were both students at Twin Falls High School.

What are the odds of two people from Twin Falls, Idaho, who live in Queensland, Australia, and British Columbia, Canada, meeting on a cruise ship sailing out of Honolulu?

Whatever the odds, it’s a delicious happenstance that might even have wider implication. Robin suffers terribly from hay fever when he’s in both of the states where he has relatives, South Australia and Victoria. When we arrived in Sydney, his hay fever stopped completely. That’s made us wonder if we should consider looking farther afield for a home in Australia.

Before we left Canada last September, we often talked about the kind of community we’d want to live in – small enough that we could get to know people easily, large enough to offer points of connection, open enough to accept newcomers, green enough to connect us with others with an interest in sustainable living, close enough to an airport and/or train station that we could travel easily, and close enough to the people we love that we could visit them easily.

Turns out Robyn and Jim live in a community that just might fit all those criteria. Their home is in Witta, but their hearts – particularly Robyn’s – are in nearby Maleny, a town Robyn describes as “the best place in the world”. Tucked into the hills east of beachside Caloundra and just over an hour north of Brisbane, Malany is a community that attracts retired professionals and back-to-the-landers.

When Woolworth’s (the Australian grocery chain, not the American dimestore) wanted to build a supermarket in Malany, townsfolk united to keep them out. Eventually they lost the battle – but not the war. Bumper stickers changed from, “I won’t shop at Woolworth’s” to “I STILL won’t shop at Woolworth’s”.

Depending on priorities, the few people we’ve met who know the community describe it as a greenie haven or a charming, cottage-filled mountain retreat. It piques our interest. We’ll definitely check it out.

One of the first things we noticed when we began this leg of the cruise was that we had, by our new cabin steward’s definition, suddenly become “VIPs”. Robin had signed us up for the Crown and Anchor Club, entry to which is pretty easy since one cruise is all that’s required. That made us eligible for a few perks, including toiletries (instead of just soap and shampoo) and soft, warm robes. Every now and then a special treat has appeared. Last night it was a plate of petit fours, which we haven’t yet eaten.

A couple of days ago – a day too rocky for me to appreciate it – we were invited to a special luncheon for “consecutive cruisers”. (Oh, why did the day when wine flowed freely also have to be my only seasick day of the whole cruising adventure?) That same evening there was a pre-dinner reception for Crown and Anchor members. I’d taken some magic pills handed out by the purser’s desk so didn’t have to refuse the champagne.

One couple had been on 101 cruises with Royal Caribbean. Money and time must be plentiful in their lives.

As to what else there is to see and do on board the Rhapsody of the Seas, the photos below will give you a taste.

The Centrum is a soaring atrium in the centre of the ship

Cooking demonstrations took place in the Centrum

Little pirates take the stage as part of the ship's children's program

The casino was pretty empty during the first half of the cruise and hopping with people once Aussies were replaced by Canadians and Americans

When harbours are too shallow, passengers hop a tender to go on land - here, in Rarotonga

Robin managed to scale the rock wall and ring the bell - alas, I wasn't there to capture his success

There was high quality entertainment every night during the cruise

Cathryn with her trusty laptop in one of the many comfortable lounges

And did I mention the food? Lots of it, temptations around every corner, nearly every hour of the day?

Kona, Hawai’i – May 3, 2009

Robin looking toward the Kailua Pier from the deck of the ship. Notice the low-hanging smoke from the active volcano.

This was our last shore day and last day for tendering. With our priority tickets (one of the perks of joining the Crown and Anchor Society), we could climb on board without first picking up a ticket and then waiting around until our number was called.

The tender dropped us off at Kailua Pier. It’s a convenient, downtown site and also where the Ironman Triathalon World Championship starts and ends every October.

Knowing we would be nearly a week without Internet, we decided to make finding an Internet café our first priority. The Beach Dog Internet Café, very near the Kailua Pier, filled the bill. I was able to log onto the free “linksys”, while Robin paid $5 for a half hour’s connection with friends and family.

Robin finished before I did so hopped the free shuttle to Hilo Hattie’s to look for a belt. He ended up walking to a store (Ross’s Dress for Less) nearly halfway back to where he’d caught the shuttle, but he did find the belt.

Meanwhile I ran out of laptop battery so cooled off with a macadamia nut ice cream. By then Robin was back, but my eye had fallen on a shop with lovely textiles. For the second time on the trip, I succumbed to temptation and bought one of those loose, one-size-covers-all-sins tops I can wear with trousers or skirts. The shopkeeper is a woman who retired to Hawai’i with her partner ten years ago. That’s a common story in this tropical paradise. Life’s easier in a climate with good weather pretty much every month of the year.

Kona's Hulihee Palace

It was too hot for anything vigorous so we settled on a leisurely stroll around Kona’s historical sites. The first was the Hulihee Palace, which was built in 1838 by Governor John Adams Kuakini. He was the brother of Queen Kaahumanu, who was the wife of King Kamehameha I. The palace is one of only three royal residences in the U.S. Unfortunately, it was damaged in a 2006 earthquake so was not open for visitors.

Across the street was the lava rock exterior of, the first Christian sanctuary in Hawai’i. There had been a couple of thatched sanctuaries, built for the missionaries who came in 1820 and hung around to convert the “heathens”. Around  1836-37 this church was built. The tourist brochure explains the exterior was recycled from a Hawaiian temple. That sounds like a euphemism for the usual pattern of colonizer denigrating the existing religion and/or way of life and imposing the True Path.

Mokuaikaua Church

At any rate, it’s an interesting building with its lava rock walls and crushed coral mortar. Inside, the pews and timber braces are of Hawaiian mahogany (ohia) and koa, burnished a rich, deep brown. There’s a small exhibit on the north side of the church, in honour of the voyages of early missionaries. One of the most interesting pieces on display is a stick chart. Polynesian navigators used them as maps of the seas. This one uses sticks to show drift lines, swell patterns, and currents around the Marshall Islands (marked with shells).

Polynesian sailors navigated with stick charts like this one

We were overheated by the time we had seen a few of the historical sites so when we spotted the Kona Canoe Club, we dropped in for a drink. The table we chose already had one visitor, a brightly hued gecko. The gutsy little lizard was accustomed to people and let us bring the camera in close for a few shots. One of the waiters threw him a half-eaten maraschino cherry. I don’t think he took any nibbles, but he did lick the sugary juice.

Cathryn enjoying a sea breeze at the Kona Canoe club

Gecko sharing our table at the Kona Canoe Club. The waiter told us these shimmering little lizards were brought over from Madagascar and have become a real nuisance.

Ahuena Heiau is a sacred site to indigenous people

Our last stop was Ahuena Heiau, a sacred spot where now only a thatched temple stands. At one time it was the seat of political power for King Kamehameha I. It was here, during the final seven years of his reign, that he trained his successor, his son Liholiho, and united all the islands under one rule.

With the tender near at hand, we opted to retreat from the heat. Soon we were back on board our floating home, basking in air-conditioned comfort, anticipating yet another – what else? – delicious meal.

We always like to be on deck as we sail out of ports. On this night that gave us a treat we’ve only experienced once on these cruises – the chance to watch dolphins leaping in the wake of the ship, like a farewell to the giant swimmer steaming out of their waters.

Hilo, Hawai’i – May 2, 2009

We had the urge to see more of the Big Island of Hawai’i than we would if we just wandered around Hilo. So when we got off the ship in Kuhio Bay, we looked for a local tour operator.

There were lots of options, but we settled on the van driven by Cousin Joe, who offered to take a vanload of us on a tour for $55 apiece. I can’t recall the name of the tour company he drives for – something like Big Island Tours. Anyway, Joe is perpetually 58, the age at which he says he stopped counting.

He’s clearly accustomed to dealing with people from parts of the world where tipping is not common practice. Leaving nothing to chance, he had signs on the inside of the van doors suggesting a tip of $5 to $8 apiece would not be amiss.

Rainbow Falls

When he had twelve customers for the twelve seats, we set off toward Rainbow Falls, the first stop of the tour. Canadians are accustomed to more spectacular falls, and there were no rainbows that day, but we still enjoyed the stop.

Joe next drove us to the Akatsuka Orchid Gardens. Hilo is showered with 133 inches of rain per year, making it the wettest city in the U.S. All that water is good for some flowers. Hilo grows more orchids than anyplace else in the world, as well as 95% of the world’s anthuriums.

This is what a $20,000 orchid looks like

I was enchanted by the variety of shapes, colours, and sizes of the orchids. One of them on display is a rather dowdy relative, at least in appearance. It’s a muted bronze in comparison with its flasher cousins. But that drab orchid is worth $20,000. Brought to Hilo from Thailand, it is the only one of its kind in the world to have perfect symmetry. We were fortunate to arrive during its blooming period, which is April-May each year.

There were dozens of exquisite orchids and colourful anthuriums displayed throughout the shop. I’ll put photos of a handful of them at the end of this blog entry.

The main destination for our day’s outing with Cousin Joe (who seemed to be related to someone pretty much every mile along the whole day’s route) was Hawai’i Volcanoes National Park.

Two of the five volcanoes that formed this island are still active, Kilauea and Mauna Loa. They don’t explode like volcanoes on the mainland. (Remember Mt. St. Helens?) Instead, they send up fountains of fire and produce streams of lava. As the lava cools and the porous rock is eroded by wind and water, the new land it forms gradually becomes covered with lush vegetation.

Steam vents on the edge of the Kilauea Caldera

Just beyond the Kilauea Military Camp, we stopped to take pictures of the steam vents. Their sulphurous white clouds are reminders that below the black surface of this lava-covered landscape a molten river searches for outlets. [Cousin Joe says the military camp is a place for rest and recreation for soldiers. Hard to imagine anyone’s wanting to retreat to a place that’s in a perpetual cloud of volcano gas.]

Volcanic gases rise from the Halema’uma’u Crater

From the steam vents, we drove to the Kilauea Visitor Center, where we could see the broad expanse of the Kilauea Caldera and watch the volcanic plume rising from the Halema’uma’u Crater. Inside the Jaggar Museum are displays that trace not only the volcano’s history but also the science behind the natural drama.

In one glass case are the shredded remains of the coveralls George Ulrich wore when he was doing research there. Lava he thought was cool and solid turned out to be a thin crust. He broke through it and dived up to his knees in molten lava. Somehow he got out and healed enough to run a marathon a few years later.

A short distance beyond the museum Cousin Joe stopped to give us another view of the crater and a chance to stretch our legs with a walk along its rim. Most of our fellow travelers opted to stay with the van, but we welcomed the chance for a bit of exercise.

Cathryn near the entrance of the Thurston Lava Tube

When we re-joined the van we were near the entrance of the Thurston Lava Tube. The stretch we walked through has been strung with electric lights. Boulders have been cleared to make the path easy to navigate. Had we had more time and a flashlight we might have continued into a rougher section – or not. Dark, enclosed spaces aren’t something I generally seek out.

We made one last stop on the Chain of Craters Road to look at the much smaller Lua Manu crater. I grew up on an old lava bed in southern Idaho so didn’t need the warning to walk carefully over the jagged surface. My knees and legs still bear the scars of many childhood tumbles onto the glassy shards of crumbled lava. Not being particularly sure-footed, however, I did move carefully across the swirls and chunks and gravel of the cooled-lava surface.

Cathryn by one of the lava formations of the Lua Manu Crater

The colour variations you can see in the photo are created by the different minerals in the lava. As wind and water break down the lava, the resulting soil becomes mineral rich and fertile. This small bottle brush plant may have started as a seed dropped by a passing bird.

This bottle brush plant is starting the process of turning lava into soil

Edmonton cruisers Ken and Maureen pose with Cathryn and Robin at the Mauna Loa plant

After we left the park we headed straight for the Mauna Loa plant. The only major processor of macadamia nuts in Hawai’i, Mauna Loa has its own groves but also buys from other growers. I always figured macadamia nuts were native to Hawai’i, but Robin set the record straight when we were in Australia. They are actually an Oz transplant from Queensland.

This was the only shopping stop of the day. Mostly we ignore the seductions of the shops along our route, but when we saw a small bag of chocolate-covered macadamia nuts, we succumbed. After all, there’s so little to eat on a cruise.

Cousin Joe told us he wanted to take us to one more place, one the other companies never visit. So he headed to Richardson’s Black Sand Beach. We’ve seen bigger and better black sand beaches, but we did enjoy the sight of tiny tots playing in the water as confidently as they play onshore.

Richardson's black sand beach

We kept our fingers crossed as we sailed away from Hilo, hoping the captain would turn south so we could sail past the area where lava at 2100 degrees Fahrenheit meets the sea and sends up clouds of steam.

Molten lava streams through fissures and lava tubes and finds its way to the sea, where it explodes in a fountain of steam

We were not disappointed. It was dark by the time we reached the site. The full glory of fire meeting water exploded just four tenths of a mile from the decks where hundreds of us watched in awe. Even Robin, the intrepid traveler, had never before seen such a dramatic display. When we finally went to bed, we knew we’d seen something that would become one of the highlights of the cruise.

Lahaina redux – May 1, 2008

A tropical paradise is not likely in my future. The heat and humidity treat me like a taffy pull, stretching me all out of shape until I turn brittle and grumpy. Still, I never tire of the lush vegetation, the blue seas, the seemingly slow pace.

This was our third day in Lahaina, including the one last October. We picked up a brochure that mapped out a walk through the town’s historical sites. We’d already visited some of them before, such as the banyan tree and the recreated foundation of the old fort.

Pioneer Inn in Lahaina

This time we also paid special attention to the Pioneer Inn, one of the first sites that greets visitors when they step off a tender. Built in 1901, it was the only hotel in West Maui until the 1960s. Then the sleepy little beach community started attracting attention and gradually built up a collection of hotels, restaurants, and gift shops that appeal to thousands of travelers every year.

The missionary house was home and medical office for the family of Dr. Dwight Baldwin

The Baldwin House was also worth a stop. Dr. Dwight Baldwin had it built around the mid-1830s. He was a Protestant missionary whose medical training made him more useful than those who came with the sole purpose of teaching heathens the error of their ways. Of course, some of those ways were a bit dicey. Throwing virgins or first born into a volcano to appease the goddess Pele was hard on everyone. But Christian tradition has some pretty dicey practices in its history as well, and not everything the colonizers brought was a welcome change.

One of those changes was a shift from hunting and gathering and subsistence agriculture to a plantation system that saw a handful of owners amass large tracts of land. The sugar cane and pineapple plantations of companies such as Dole were outgrowths of westerners’ penchant for bigness and centralized control.

The Sugar Cane Train stopped at the Lahaina station

The plantations are pretty much a thing of the past. A small reminder is the Sugar Cane Train that travels about an hour out of its starting point in Lahaina. Robin’s a steam train buff. So even though a Maui resident on the Sydney-to-Hawaii cruise had pooh-poohed the ride as a tourist trap, we decided to hop on board and check out the ride.

The train crosses a trestle and begins its slow climb through what once were sugar cane fields

The route is through an industrial section tourists would not otherwise see, a side of Lahaina that’s grittily real but not particularly inviting. Then it begins a slow climb through an area that once was covered with sugar cane fields and is now sitting in private hands while developers eye it for future condos and resorts.

Engine backing around a Y to switch ends of the train

As an example of an old steam train, it still has some appeal. We got to watch the engine do a Y-maneuver at the end of the run, backing around until it could be hooked to the other end of the train. At another stop, we watched the water reservoir being refilled. And when the little train returned to Lahaina, we watched it rotate on the round platform, exit along a side track, and move back to the front of the train to start its next run.

Re-filling the water reservoir

Considering two cruise ships were docked on the day we took the train, we were surprised by the small number of passengers. That doesn’t bode well for the future of this little train. The rather shabby interior of the cars is mute testimony to a company that probably works on a bare-bones budget. The commentary that’s played along the way is completely drowned by the train’s noise.

All in all, it doesn’t add up to a terrific tourist offering, but we still enjoyed it.

Robin and Cathryn at Kimo’s

Our last destination of the day was Kimo’s, a beachfront restaurant that has become our favourite place to stop and cool off whenever we’re in Lahaina. The staff is friendly, and the fare looks good. But since we’re visiting from a cruise ship, where food is ubiquitous, we just stop for a cool drink and a maybe a small snack. We usually find someone to chat with. The sea breeze cools us. And the view is a million-dollar bonus.

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Diamond Head, Oahu – April 30, 2009

Last day in April, though it’s already May 1st on the other side of the International Dateline. The distinctive shape of Diamond Head beckoned today. This was my first chance to visit this Hawaiian icon, and I wanted to see it from the lofty heights of the crater whose silhouette was so familiar.

We hopped a city bus and asked for the Diamond Head stop. The bus driver said she’d warn us and took offense when we heard “Diamond Head” and started to descend a stop too early. Chastised, we sat down and rode another hundred feet to the right stop, where we started the hot, uphill slog.

Maunalua Bay seen from a lookout on the trail leading to the summit of Diamond Head. The crater is in the foreground, with the vehicle tunnel to the left.

The first part of it was along the road and through the Kapahulu Tunnel, where traffic was supposed to slow to 5 mph because pedestrians have no protective lane, just a narrow shoulder. The tunnel burrows through the Le’ahi crater and into what was a U.S. military reserve from 1906 to 1976, when it was opened to the public.

Le’ahi was formed about 300,000 years ago in one massive eruption. Erosion gradually shaped it into the most well known landmark in Hawaii.

The Hawaiian word, Le’ahi, has two meanings. One is the brow of the ahi fish, which is what it looks like to anyone gazing upward from Waikiki. The second meaning is wreath of fire. Polynesian navigators were guided safely into harbour by the signal fires lit on the crater’s rim.

Westerners named the old volcano Diamond Head. They found calcite crystals and got all excited, thinking they were diamonds.

The trail that leads to the summit of Le’ahi was built by the U.S. military, as part of the Army Coastal Artillery defense system. At the top was a fire control station. Mules carried most goods up the trail, but there were also winches for hauling things to a midway point.

The Brazilian cardinal is the first songster to greet the day

The day was hot and humid, and our destination looked out of reach for a couple of sixty-somethings still not accustomed to tropical weather. We headed past the displays and the restrooms and began the ascent up the asphalt trail. A flash of red caught my eye so I stopped to snap a photo of a Brazilian cardinal.

The switchbacks look gentler here, and generally are, but on a hot day they can seem endless

The asphalt soon ended, and we began the next stretch of the trail, a stony, eroded path that switchbacks up the steep slope. Several dozen other intrepid walkers were winding their way upward. We weren’t the speediest so occasionally stopped to let others pass by. Any excuse for a breather.

Robin in the tunnel, a cool retreat on a hot day

A long tunnel was a welcome break from the relentless heat. But after that came several sets of steep stairs, one with risers too narrow for a bit-footed woman. That wasn’t so bad on the way up, but on the way down the angle was dizzying. Visions of slipping and ending up sliding the whole 99 steps competed with all those crazy admonitions that what we focus on is what ends up happening to us.

By the time we’d made our way up the last spiral staircase, squeezed through the old gun emplacement, rounded the last switchback, and climbed the last steps, we were committed to finding the view from the top worth the effort of reaching it.

Waikiki Beach from the top of Diamond Head

And it was. Below us stretched Waikiki Beach to the west, Maunalua Bay to the east, and the deep, blue sea to the south. We spent a long time reveling in the view and listening to the conversations of fellow travelers.

Frangipani near the visitor center of Diamond Head

The trek back to the bus stop was easy, except for those crazy, steep steps. We stopped at a refreshment stand near the visitor center for a mango smoothie, took one last photo of fragrant, pink frangipani, and headed back through the car tunnel and down to the bus stop.

After a long wait for a bus that was too full to stop for us, we hopped a bus that meandered through neighbourhoods and finally deposited us at the Ala Moana Shopping Center, where we caught a bus back to our floating home.

We were tired, but having bragging rights for having reached the summit of Diamond Head made it all worthwhile.

Point Turton on the Yorke Peninsula

January 16 to 18, 2009 – Point Turton

David, Jeannette, Robin, and Cathryn in Point Turton

We’re back from one of Australia’s many perfect beach spots, Point Turton. The “shack” where we stayed belongs to Frank and Jane, friends of David and Jeannette, who very kindly included Robin and me in a weekend gathering of people who were part of a tennis club. Terry and Judy made up the fourth couple here for the weekend, and the bay-view home easily accommodated us all.

Frank and Jane, our incredible hosts at Point Turton

Terry and Judy

We arrived Friday afternoon and dined and wined our way through the first evening. Before we settled in for an Aussie barbecue, we went for a walk along the shore. Robin took photos of pelicans. I’d never been so close to one before.

Pelican on beach at Point Turton

Saturday everyone went out fishing. I opted to stay behind, needing a good walk and some time to stop, reflect, and write. My only companion was Cassie, a Rottweiler who was afraid of me. First time I’ve ever met such a timid Rottie.

Robin fishing for gar

Out in the Bay the twins were catching gar fish, one for David, two for Robin. Those were the only fish pulled in (though Judy caught five and Terry one more later in the day), but everyone was thrilled by the calm seas, pristine waters, and turquoise water – at least until one of the boats had to be pulled back to shore.

Robin was intrigued by the tractors lined up along the shore. The Yorke Peninsula is farming country so tractors are a convenient and sturdy vehicle for launching boats right into the salty water, no ramp needed. There is, of course, a ramp, down in the caravan park, for those unfortunate enough to be tractor-less.

Boat-launching tractors lined up on the beach

Innes National Park

After a late lunch back at the “shack”, the twins (Robin and David) and their partners (Jeannette and I) drove south to Innes National Park. On a glorious, calm day the native bush and blue seas offer stunning scenes around every curve.

Chinaman's Hat Island

At one stop, to look at Chinaman’s Hat Island, we saw a family of emus. Dad looks after the young in an emu family so the half-grown youngsters were being watched over by a large and very attentive parent. Not far away, along the track out to the lighthouse, we looked down to see emu tracks along the beach, possibly from the same family.

Emu siblings walking along road in Innes National Park

Emu dad guarding his young

Emu tracks on the beach

Surfers at Pondalowie Bay

At Pondalowie Bay we walked out the boardwalk to watch the surfers. It’s Mark Jarman’s (Robin’s nephew) favourite surfing spot so we stayed for a while to watch young enthusiasts waiting for just the right waves. Rounding a bend as we returned to the car park, Jeannette spotted a pair of kangaroos and motioned to us to hurry to join her. We caught up with her just in time to see a female and her joey staring at a woman coming their way. Just after I took this photo, they hopped out of sight.

Kangaroos at Pondalowie Bay car park

Aussie breakfast on the barbecue

Wattle Point Wind Farm

Our last morning in Port Turton, Frank cooked an Aussie breakfast on the barbie. After a leisurely start to the day, we drove to Wattle Point Wind Farm to see the 55 giant turbines that make up one of eight wind farms in South Australia.

Main street of Edithburgh

Elevators and red cliffs at Ardrossan

Our route from there took us to Edithburgh, with its fine examples of colonial architecture. From there we meandered through a chain of small towns and into Ardrossan, where the beach is lined with red cliffs and bordered by an enormous barley elevator, where a conveyor loads ships bound for world markets. Some ships sail away with a load of barley, others with gypsum. Both use the same conveyor system for loading.

At Two Wells we stopped to see the house where a surprised mother of twins (no ultrasound in those days) brought two bundles home from hospital instead of one.

There was, of course, much more to our trip to the Yorke Peninsula, but if you’ve read this far, I’ve taxed your patience enough. I’ll just say that the flat, golden stubble of miles of farm fields, the old limestone farm houses tucked in among gum trees, the vast stretches of salt bush, the colonial architecture of rural towns, and the ever-present surrounding sea caught my imagination every minute of the way.

Double vision in Adelaide

January 10-16 – Double vision in Adelaide

David and Robin, twins together again

When we arrived at the Adelaide train station, David and Jeannette were there to greet us. I’d seen pictures so recognized them instantly. But even if I hadn’t, the resemblance between David and Robin would have been unmistakable.

It’s not just that they are identical twins. In their forty years apart, they have aged differently and are no longer exact copies. However, in their mannerisms, their voices, their patterns of speech, and thought processes, they are a match. They even fart in stereo.

Twins at Seacliff Beach

Jeannette gave me a fuzzy little koala as I stepped off the train, a welcoming gesture typical of her warm and generous spirit. Other than photographs, it’s the first souvenir of our time in Australia and likely the only one I’ll bring back to Canada.

Elder Park along the River Torrens in the heart of Adelaide

David may know more about Adelaide than any of its other million-plus residents so our first forays into the city’s beautiful heart have been rich in historic detail. Though we have only scratched the surface of the city’s historic sites, I have already gained an appreciation for a city that was deliberately ringed by parkland and founded on principles of freedom of religion.

Adelaide was founded in 1836 by the British government as a free colony, with no convict labour. The site was chosen by Colonel William Light, who planned the city and surveyed the surrounding countryside for farming. All peoples of all religions were welcome to settle in the colony. Hence many different churches were built in the city, to the point where it became known as “the city of churches”.

There was no consultation with the Aboriginal people. After land was surveyed, settlers bought by the city blocks or farmland. The proceeds of the sale then paid the ship fare for working class people to be brought out to work for the landowners. This system was known as the Wakefield System.

The week in Adelaide has been a flurry of activity, except for Tuesday, when Robin and I vegetated after we were both hit by a mysterious tummy bug. Even that day we mustered enough energy to join David and Jeannette for a visit to the Adelaide Central Market. We strolled past most of the fruit, vegetable, meat, and deli stalls, gathering ingredients for the dinner Robin and I wanted to prepare the next night. Into our bags went free-range chicken, goat cheese, aged cheddar, crisp salad vegetables, mango, ripe strawberries, and creamy Greek yoghurt (for marinating the chicken).

Seacliff Beach, just one of many glorious stretches of Adelaide waterfront

In our week in Adelaide we have enjoyed walks along sandy beaches that stretch for miles. Our walks have taken us along West Beach and from Brighton to Seacliff Beaches and back.

At Kingston we walked a small part of the Tjilbruke Trail. David told us the Dreamtime legend of the much-respected Kaurna ancestor. His grief was so deep when his nephew was killed that the Dreaming Tracks along which he carried the young man’s body to a cave burial is marked by his tears. Wherever his tears fell, a freshwater spring marks his passage, reminding those who walk between and Rapid Bay (Patparno) of his grief Kingston (Tulukdank).

Tjilbruke Monument

Another day we joined the Marion Rotary Club for an evening at the University of South Australia’s planetarium on its Mawson Lakes campus. Two Mondays in a row we’ve gone on beach walks with the Marion Probus Club.

We have laughed our way through a superb production of Gilbert and Sullivan’s The Mikkado at the Adelaide Festival Theatre. And we have enjoyed an Aussie barbecue beside the River Torrens, followed by our first chance to watch live tennis at the World Tennis Challenge (WTC) in the Memorial Drive Tennis Courts.

For the WTC, four players now on the world circuit (Mark Philipossus, Taylor Dent, Fabrice Santoro, and Joachim Johansson for you tennis enthusiasts) played demonstration matches, with Dent and Santoro giving us the most high-powered game of the evening. The other matches paired past champions and current hotshots in a team competition among four countries: France, Sweden, the U.S., and, of course, Australia.

With nothing to lose, the past champs could salt their sets with crowd-pleasing antics. In the singles, French player Henri Leconte was clown prince. In the final games—doubles that paired the current and past champions—any semblance of serious play gave way to comedy. Our stomachs were sore from laughing by the time the winning points were made.

Mansour Bahrami and Henri Leconte at World Tennis Challenge

The surprise we’d been promised during the barbecue turned out to be Mansour Bahrami. His first appearance was during the doubles. We wondered who this short, fit but clearly elder tennis statesman was. He looked too old to have much staying power on the court.

Turns out he is an Iranian-born tennis great. Burning to play but too poor to buy equipment, the young Bahrami took up a frying pan and broom handle and rigged up a tennis racket. His chance at world status was curtailed when professional sports were banned in Iran, so he emigrated to France. At thirty he was too old to become a world champion, but he has been a favourite on the Champions Tour since 1994 and is considered the best tennis entertainer on the circuit.

Side note: Robin had his eye on another part of the tennis show, the pre-game fashion models in their bikinis. I’ll drop in one of the photos he took.

Pre-WTC fashion show

Saying farewell to Melbourne

January 10, 2009

The last two nights we stayed with Michelle and Mim. Thursday we had a touch of home, when Holly (the angel who’s checking our condo, forwarding mail, and making it possible for us to be away so long) and her daughter, Lahine, sailed into the Port of Melbourne on Royal Caribbean’s Rhapsody of the Sea. The day we spent with them was too short, but it was a real treat.

Holly and Lahine by the Yarra River

Last night we invited Rick and Mario, a couple we met on the Volendam, to join us and Michelle and Mim for dinner. Michelle took us to the South Melbourne Market to shop for fresh ingredients and then headed off to work. By the time she and Mim were home, we had the feast pretty much ready.

It was the kind of evening that will stay in our memories. Lively conversation on a wide range of interesting topics in the company of intelligent, warm, fascinating people. Doesn’t get much better than that.

Michelle and Mim dropped us off at Southern Cross Station in plenty of time to check our luggage and catch the train. They sent us on our way with a lunch that was the envy of anyone who walked by, including the best tuna sandwiches we’ve ever had (tuna with sundried tomatoes, pickles, corn, carrots, cheese, and a spicy zing – on Michelle’s freshly made bread).

We’re on The Overland, a train rocking its way toward Adelaide. We have crossed the border between Victoria and South Australia, turned our watches back a half hour, and had interesting conversations with a couple who lived on the Nullabor Plains and a fellow who has developed technology to link a laptop into the satellite system, providing GPS, Internet, VOIP, and entertainment anywhere in the world.

I was warned repeatedly that the scenery between Melbourne and Adelaide is mostly flat and boring. That might be the case if we were driving, but from the comfort and ease and higher seat of a train, I’m finding the gum trees, fields, hills, farms, and big sky endlessly fascinating.

In fact, the only shadow over the day is some pain from yesterday’s nasty fall. I’d just gone out to take Wilbur (Michelle’s and Mim’s dog) for a walk when I stumbled on a patch of broken sidewalk and took a flyer. Fortunately, unlike my header in Banff last July, I’m just a bit scraped and bruised. No cracked bone this time, and I can still type, so life’s good. Very good.

When we reach Adelaide, I’ll finally get to meet Robin’s twin, David. I got a sense of just how alike they are when we had a short visit with David’s and Jeannette’s daughter, Tanya, and ten-month-old Ella. They were here from Bangkok on a Christmas visit. Little Ella looked at Robin with a slightly puzzled look and then cracked a big smile. She’d just come from a visit to her grandparents and definitely recognized the family resemblance between her grandfather and her granduncle.

We’re going to miss Michelle and Mim, Darren and Nat and little Lily. And we’ll miss the people who’ve made Melbourne such a welcoming place for us. But we’re off on our next adventure. How lucky can we be?