"Ooo-wee, baby, ooo-wee; ooo-wee baby, ooo-wee; won't you let me take you on a sea cruise?"
My oldest pals, and I mean that in a literal sense, will recognize those lines as a lyric from a Paleolithic pop tune. They also happen be reflect what Laura and I more or less asked ourselves a few months back as we approached our 35th anniversary. So here we are, as today's sun rises, deep into the South Pacific's Coral Sea, about 2/3s through an 18-day celebratory trip through Oceania. It begins in New Zealand, explores the east and north coasts of Australia, touches parts of Malaysia, and ends in Singapore. Sea cruise, indeed.
Honestly, we really didn't mean to do this. But the idea was floated by our pals Paul and Ginger Aragon, who were doing this trip with their pals, Dave and Judy Hooff. Why not tag along?
Sounded like a good idea at the time and the rates were too reasonable to ignore. We were enduring the worst winter in central Oregon in decades, so a bit of sun seemed like a good idea. Plus it's a significant anniversary. So, why not?
Still, I wasn't sure that I was up to a trip over water. But we think we'd better travel to see the sights while we can. These are uncertain times and the world is an uncertain place. So here we are.
One bridge to cross? Care for the house and cats while we're away. A friend is up from our old hometown to take care of that while she gleefully shops for a new home in our area. And the cats, those same cats who are so shy and careful that visitors never see them, adopted her like she'd raised them. Traitors, I tell you!
We get a sense of what we're in for at San Francisco International Airport, from which our trans-Pacific flight departs. We get it from the throngs of passengers waiting to board the Boeing 777 that's set to take us all to Hong Kong, where we will transfer to a similar aircraft for the long flight down to Auckland. We get it from the variety of faces - Chinese, of course, but also Indian, as well as those of a few westerners, like us. And we get it from the Babel of language that surrounds us. Mostly, this crate is a flying Chinese village. With a few of we minorities thrown into the stew. It's a good thing.
Now it's time to hunker down and endure this long, boring ride. Did I say long? This first leg is long, nearly 7,000 miles, 14 hours in the air. And our connecting flight is nearly as long. In total, we will fly something like 23,000 miles this trip.
It's been tiring so far, and we've barely started. To the airport in Redmond Tuesday afternoon for a short flight to Portland. Where we'll spend the night, the better to catch our Wednesday 7 am flight to Frisco. We both slept badly. Hoping to catch some shuteye on this flight.
Portland to Frisco to Hong Kong to Auckland. It added up to about 37 hours of travel made longer, at least seemingly, by crossing the international dateline. We both love being in new places, but we both despise the process of getting to those places.
But finally we arrived in Auckland on what now is a Friday, where we overnighted in a hotel. Boarded on Saturday,
which I will call Day 1 of this cruise. It was a bit of a mess, with 2,500 people herded into a shed and filtering through too few check-in agents. We were told that the process for obtaining an Aussie visa would be conducted aboard. Fine. Here on the right is Auckland, in a shot taken from the deck of the Norwegian Star. As always, to see the photo fullsize, just click on it.
Then it got worse. Hundreds of us were told that we could not board without that visa. The line for that visa, they said, was that long one over there. There was one computer working on the problem, though several more eventually were added.
Then it got worse. At about 4:30, being in line since about 2:15, my turn finally came. The computer at the Aussie consulate didn't like my brand new passport, and refused a visa. No reason given. The rep tried it again. Same result. Totally confused and frustrated, we began pondering alternatives. Setting ourselves on fire, for instance. Or perhaps just renting a car and touring New Zealand, a beautiful place that actually seemed to like us. Then the rep tried a third time and the visa was granted –$20 was the cost. It was now 6 pm, still 90 degrees and very humid, and sailing time. We finally made it into our stateroom by 6:30, exhausted.
We're told that this visa requirement went into effect on January 19, the day before Herr Trump, who insulted the Aussie president, was inagurated. I kinda understand that. But I'm just a bit miffed - peeved, you might say - at Norwegian Cruise Lines. There is no excuse for the mess of a boarding process that they conducted. And there is less excuse for not making sure that the visa problem was handled beforehand with one universal set of instructions. Perhaps in their direction one should hurl imprecations. I'm not sure.
Day 2 – But we at least we're aboard the Norwegian Star, all 935 feet of it, with 2,500 other passengers, and spent a calm night at sea. Awakened in paradise, the Bay of Islands, at the northern tip of the North Island.
Went ashore, toured Paihia, aka "paella," according to one of our companions, a nice little town clotted with tourists, and then took a ferry across the bay to Russell, which was indeed paradise.
Lunch at the Duke of Marlborough Hotel, seafood chowder and beer. Delicious. Then back on board for the two-day cruise to Sydney.
This is what paradise looks like.
Days 3 and 4 - Aboard ship: interesting weather. It's February and late summer here in the Southern Hemisphere, with temps and humidity both in the 90s. Some sun, some clouds, a breeze, some mild seas. At home, there's snow on the ground with daily high temps of 40 and now in the 20s.
We've spent part of Day 3 planning shore excursions. We've got something for every stop, not least of which is a visit to see the Komodo dragons, on Komodo Island. Perhaps we will be afforded the opportunity to feed a Norwegian exec to one of them.
Plenty to do aboard. BBQ for lunch on deck 12, best food so far. The grub in most of the ship's 12 restaurants is, at best, quite ordinary. We find, however, that three of the six extra-cost restaurants do really well. The others, not so much. Our stateroom came with the Universal Beverage Package, so refreshments are without cost, a benefit which helps assuage the unfortunate fact of kitchen mediocrity. Please think of these comments not as whining, but as reportage.
The Star is huge, 935 feet in length, but if you don't grab a deck chair early, you don't get one at all.
Our stateroom is tiny but comfortable, the bathroom is smaller than the smallest closet at home. Hey, I'm 6' 4"', 250 pounds. I think the same troll who designs airplane seats designed this thing.
We're now in the middle of the immensity of the Tasman Sea, between NZ and Oz. Moderate seas, whitecaps, maybe 7 feet, the horizon so long and unbroken that you can discern the curvature of the earth. Would not care to be alone out here on, say, a life raft. But this is an experience I don't think we will have the opportunity to repeat, so I'm enjoying it to the most - from the comfort of our stateroom's veranda. A serene way to travel, this.
I'm hoping that this photo will provide a sense of Earth's curvature.
The Star rocks and she rolls as she encounters seas and swells. One had best acquire sea legs, and acquire them quickly. This is not for those with vertigo.
Entertainment everywhere. Right now, Beach Boys recordings rocking the topside bar, the denizens of which are nicely lubricated by mai-tais and such. Stage shows, lounge acts, and more at venues all over this huge ship. Sadly, no banjo, no guitar, no Americana. But at least a violin/cello duo playing very nicely.
The weather? It cannot be faulted. A few huge cumulus clouds, nature's own top gallants, ghost along the horizons like a celestial squadron of square-riggers, with a light breeze and brilliant sunshine.
We have had two lazy days of these conditions. That ends tomorrow, when we set foot on Aussie soil in Sydney. We have not a lot in the way of a plan. Just explore the city via the hop-on, hop-off bus.
The view from the Star's foredeck as we arrive in Sydney's harbor.
Day 6 – Yay! Abroad for the day in Sydney.
We like it, a huge, busy, bustling, gleaming city filled with healthy, polite people, but also a quaint old town. Saw immediately that hop-on, hop-off bus was a bad mistake. I guess we're way too independent for that sort of thing. We left the bus and hoofed it around town, seeing gardens, cathedrals, and the most amazing high-end shopping district.
Had lunch in a tower that jutted skyward from an enormous, 6-story shopping mall. The restaurant was one of those revolving things, one revolution per hour. So high that the seagulls needed oxygen masks. Or so I was told. Food was good, the view, freakin' spectacular.
Caught a tender back to our ship after inspecting the city's most historic quarter,
complete with cannon made in 1823. Fired 46-pound iron balls. You'd need 46-pound balls to load and fire the thing. Laura lines up the huge cannon's sights.
Day 7 – Wollongong, a town maybe 50 miles south of Sydney, served by Port Kimla. It's a pleasant place anchored by steel mills and surrounded by mountains and forest. Laura and Ginger visited a Buddhist temple,
the largest in the Southern Hemisphere, and had a grand time. Paul and I visited the Historic Aircraft Restoration Society, with features extensive shops and a museum filled with aircraft of all descriptions, in all states of repair, with interesting parts stacked everywhere, and likewise had a grand time. Here's Laura's shot of the temple she and Ginger visited.
Days 8 and 9 – We're at sea, on our way to Airlie Beach and Cairnes as a school of dolphins races and jumps alongside. These are good days to chill and read, and also to use the many pools and hot tubs aboard this huge ship. I dread this sort of thing because I'm no fan of water for either sport or relaxation, but also because I can be charitably described as a fat old man. I am not at my best in a bathing suit. My 6-pack long ago gave way to a beer pack. But it doesn't matter at all, I find, because everybody aboard - everybody - is at least as old and fat as I. So there is no need at all to feel self-conscious, something I'm good at.
And speaking of all those people: what an amazing polyglot. A few Americans, sure, but lots of others from everywhere else, too; east, west, north and south. All manner of skin colors and languages. So if we were to arrive at our next port to find that some madman had destroyed the world, we would have all the ingredients required to to start it right back up again, with all the same old tensions, resentments and hatreds. I don't know if that's good or bad.
After dinner tonight, we stood out on our veranda and marveled at the celestial display, aided by the profound darkness of the night skies over the open ocean. This featured the constellation we most wanted to view - the Southern Cross.
Truly special. Hey, celestial photography with no tripod from above a ship on the high seas is not for sissies. The Crux is either there in the upper right corner or in the lower left. I think, because of the orange color of one of the stars, it's the set tars in the lower left, but I'm not sure. Sorry, it's the best I could do. But one way or another, we've seen it.
The Cross, or Crux, as it sometimes is called, is to the Southern Hemisphere as the Big Dipper is to the northern hemisphere and is composed of four of the brightest stars in that part of the sky – Epsilon Crucis, Gamma Crucis, Delta Crucis and Kappa Crucis. I found it subtle, but in its way, spectacular, to see; not least because it is embedded in a broad swath of stars as bright as spilled cream. Kind if a southern version of the Milky Way, or perhaps a continuation of it.
To Be Continued....
-JFT