Category Archives: Blog

Wet weekend in Sydney

Saturday 1st and Sunday 2nd March

Sydney reputably one of the world’s most spectacular harbours. It is impressive, I’ll give you that, but spectacular? not too sure. We were up early full of expectation. Early morning light was fighting with thick cloud and for the most part losing. It was a murky morning. Where was all that sunshine the Aussies promised us, it was here last week we were told. Last week’s no good, we are here today and Australia is supposed to be the land of eternal sunshine. Any way we approached the entrance through the impressive Heads, North & South. These are massive cliffs that together with middle head served to disguise the entrance making it difficult for early mariners to find, as when sailing past it looks like one continuous rocky coastline and without today’s modern navigational aids it would still be difficult to find, looking towards the shore from out at sea. As we nosed through the narrow gap and into the harbour, those twin features appeared far to starboard, Sydney Harbour Bridge and Sydney Opera House. We turned to starboard making for them, as if suddenly getting our bearings so to speak and realising where we were. As we bore down on the bridge we were surrounded by helicopters and light aircraft flying round and round like angry hornets, one of the helicopters (channel nine) repeatedly swooped down to almost sea level, headed towards us before soaring up and over us. Not sure that would have been allowed in the UK, but it all served to create an atmosphere of excitement especially when the ship unfurled our surprise. Our visit coincides with Mardi Gras and to show our support we are joining in with the celebrations by flying a 126 metre long Happy Mardi Gras cape, 12.5 metres high, complementing this was a 2.2 metre high stiletto. We were to be bathed in pink light and designated ‘Queen of the harbour’ hmmm and were to party the night away, ‘were’ being the operative word, more on that later. All the tower blocks around the harbour were twinkling away as hundreds of cameras clicked and arms appeared waving at every accessible point around the quays. We slipped slickly between the Opera House and the bridge as if we did it every day of the week.

Immigration was a doddle here as the immigration officials sailed with us from New Zealand. (NB. America). After breakfast we disembarked for our trip which was ‘Leisurely Sydney’ an overview of the city in order for us to decide what we were going to do in our own time. We boarded our coach and set off through the traffic (which as in all cities was nose to tail) fortunately our driver drove contra to the main flow so we were not as impeded as we could have been, but it would not really have mattered if we had as the heavens opened and we stared glumly out of the coach windows as our guide enthused about what we would have seen had the visibility been good.

Rain was on and off the whole morning and in this it was kind to us when we arrived at Bondi Beach it was during an off period. Bondi was smaller than we imagined from the stories we had heard, perfectly formed for rollers, but the surfers did not want to perform. There were hundreds of surfer’s heads in the sea all waiting for that one big one which never came. Every now and then a brave soul would have a crack only to be swallowed up in a mass of white froth as the wave broke before even getting going. There was a continuous stream of fed up surfers leaving and optimistic surfers arriving, we spent about 35 minutes watching the fun but the rain showed signs of returning so we resumed our Leisurely Tour.

On over to the high point where we would have seen spectacular views of the harbour, but for the fact that the weather had once more closed in and some unfortunate soul had jumped so the area was closed off by the police whilst they carried out their grim inquiries. This is apparently the number one spot for suicide and is covered by dozens of security cameras. There was however one bright (if it can be called that) side to this place as our guide pointed out a small ordinary bungalow opposite, where, apparently until he died a few months ago, a gentleman lived who is credited with saving over 440 lives during his time there. It seems he would keep an eye out for potential jumpers and would rush out and invite them in for a cup of tea and a chat, ending in talking them out of it. It was voluntary, he wasn’t paid anything but had received various honours for his work, it left us wondering how effective video cameras would be in taking his place. Anyway suitable cheered up by this positive spin on an otherwise depressing story in depressing weather we moved on to Mrs Macquarie’s Chair. Mrs Macquarie liked to walk around the point opposite the botanic gardens but needed somewhere to sit to admire them as governor’s wives do, so she asked her husband to get the convicts to carve a seat out of the solid rock so she could sit and stare across the bay, which he (and they) duly did. One could only guess what was going through the convict’s minds as they sweated in 40 plus degrees in the hot sun so she could have somewhere cool to sit. It was not that kind of weather for us, because as we were contemplating life in those days the heavens opened again and we were caught in another torrential downpour.

I was not going to miss my ice cream for a spot of rain so I bought a cornet from an incredulous Australian lady and clambered back on board the coach, drenched. We finally got back to the ship for a shower and a change of clothes a bite to eat and then guess what? It stopped raining, so off we went round the Rocks the oldest part of Sydney (where the first convict’s tents were erected) and now home to markets, shops and other tourist attractions. Rain still attempted to discourage us but most of the markets were under cover and a lot of the pavements were sheltered by overhangs. We found some WiFi with a bar attached and managed to get rid of all the photo’s we had accumulated. Then back on board for dinner before venturing out for the Mardi Gras. Well that was the plan! We went up to the cabin to get some cash, went out onto the balcony to see how warm it was only to see rain falling out of the sky like out of a bucket. Not a soul in sight and not a sound, so plan B the bar. I guess the Mardi Gras was a washout which is a bit of a shame as they plan for it all year round.

Sunday was a little better so we shot off first thing for the Opera House and then into the Botanic gardens. We were surprised at how quiet everywhere was, the train we took for the guided tour only had about eight people on it. It took about half an hour and we then went to walk around at our own pace having had the overview. This was too good to be true the rain held off and the sun even had the temerity to show it’s face for a while. About twelve thirty we decided to go back for a bite to eat before exploring under the bridge. As we made our way back past the Opera House we realised we had made a good choice by going early as the crowds were pouring in. Word had got out that the sun was shining. 🙂 It was not to last, we were almost back on board when the rain returned and we watched from the Lido as the crowds melted away as fast as they had arrived. Another three hours of rain and we nipped out again with a brolly to explore under the bridge and round the “fingers” quays that stick out into the harbour on the other side of the bridge. Although we had some bad luck with the weather, the tour that went to the Blue Mountains travelled two hours to see nothing, no mountains, no blue and they got drenched as the windows in the bus leaked. The bridge tour got drenched climbing the bridge and couldn’t see much when they got to the top and we daren’t ask the cycle tour people how they had got on. Never mind, we are now back at sea heading for Brisbane and we have changed a huge chunk of Australians for a huge chunk of Japanese and the food has changed to reflect this.

Turned out nice again

Tuesday 4th March

Today’s Tuesday so it must be Brisbane 🙂 . We were to pick up the pilot at 3.15am and due to berth at 8:00am which indicated a tortuous entry into the port. And so it was to be, entering and transiting the North West channel, passing Caloundra Head, Transit the Spitfire Channel, into the Main Channel, passing Cowan Point, then south into the East Channel taking us into Moreton Bay. Crossing Moreton Bay, past Mud Island, transit between Fisherman Islands and Luggage Point before entering the Inner Bar Reach and finding our berth. Phew! Got that? Good cos you have to find your own way out 😉 . Our view from the cabin? A pale blue corrugated iron wall, bearing in mind we are eight decks up that was some wall and once more it is raining. We went up on deck and saw that we were deep in the Industrial docklands of Brisbane, surrounded by acres of cars parked for transit, in or out, we did not know. Huge mountains of what looked like sand but turned out to be sawdust, and what looked like salt but turned out to be sand, and huge mountains of what looked like coal and turned out to be coal.

We were not doing a trip here as the only one on offer was a trip round the central business district, not exactly a life changing experience. To make matters worse we were told that the shuttle bus took 40 minutes to get into Brisbane, but not to worry as there were two, one going in the other coming out! Deep gloom, things can only get better as a politician once had us believe. Still during breakfast the sun started to show its face and we chatted to a couple who knew the place and were quite enthusiastic about things to do. So after giving it a little time for the crowds to clear we left the ship and walked the couple of hundred yards through a tented walkway (so we couldn’t see all the dockside activity) to where the queue was for the shuttle bus.

First surprise there was a queue, but it was moving quite quickly and as the bus filled up another took its place and then another, (two bus myth busted). The journey in did indeed take 45 minutes but traffic did not hold us up and we were dropped right in the centre of town. The centre of Brisbane was a hive of activity and extremely pedestrian friendly. The central mall area was an entirely pedestrian precinct with dozens of street cafés and bars. Large plane trees everywhere provided shade from the sun which by now had decided to show its face and they had suspended large triangles of lattice panels to provide shade at all the central crossroads which made them natural piazzas and a place where the street entertainers entertained and people gathered to chat, creating a lovely bonhomie atmosphere. Brisbane is a delightful mixture of old and new. All the old buildings are pristine and with the modern building towering over them but not oppressively so. We passed the Anzac Gardens noticing that steps led down beneath them to air conditioned shopping malls. The whole effect was one of spaciousness and as we walked slowly up Queen Street (the central mall) enjoying the blasts of cool air from malls leading off left and right, it was easy to see how they have managed to cram over 650 stores along a stretch of less than a kilometre without it being overpowering (Brisbane City Precinct is home to over 1,500 retail stores in total). The top of Queen Street culminates in Brisbane Square, a huge square that is faced on one side by the sandstone Treasury Building which is now a casino (very apt) and on the opposite side the Supreme Law Courts, facing us was the river Brisbane. But as we stood there we realised where all the traffic was. To our left cleverly disguised, was the entrance to a tunnel into which traffic was pouring like water down a plughole and slightly further across traffic was exiting at the same rate, right under the area we had just been strolling. Alongside the river ran the freeway that supplied and received the tunnel traffic the whole system designed to keep pedestrians and traffic well separated. And talking of well separated, all footpaths were strictly organised, a line running down the centre of the path with arrows keeping pedestrians to the left, avoiding people getting in each other’s way. Signs every so often read “Cyclists, Skate Boarders and Segway’s give way to pedestrians”, followed by “Pedestrians do not block the pavements”. It seemed to work quite well, possibly because there were police patrolling on mountain bikes. We crossed the river and wandered through the gardens on the far riverbank before returning to Brisbane Square where Carol spotted a closing down sale and strode purposely towards it as only Carol can when she senses a bargain (and yes I got a photo).

We, well I was getting a bit thirsty by this time so we found a café/bar in the main thoroughfare and plonked ourselves down, idly watching the crowds walk by when I became aware of the longest pair of legs culminating in the skimpiest pair of shorts standing right in front of me. As I tore my eyes away and up to see who the owner of this delightful pair of pins was, it dawned on me that it was Anna, ashore with a friend. She had spotted us and came over to chat. Remember Anna? Our waitress? She who got the other red rose on valentine’s night? Anyway it was her and I shall be requesting she dresses like that at the table in future. And no I didn’t get a photo.

Anyway we had to go as Carol wanted some hairspray, so off we went passing a street artist dressed as a statue and sitting in mid-air (or so it seemed) not sure how he did that, but he was getting a lot of dollars for sitting around doing nothing. Back passed the Anzac gardens where there was live music, so we found ourselves a couple of deckchairs and sat in the sun for a while listening to a young girl singing (cut your wrist music) to an acoustic guitar. After about half an hour when the wails began to echo off the skyscraper walls we decided that others would be more appreciative of our deck chairs (that and the fact that our last bus left at 4:30pm) so we moved on.

All things considered I think I marginally preferred Brisbane over Sydney, take away the bridge and the Opera House there is little to choose between them. Brisbane due to lack of traffic is definitely kinder to those who want to wander around without constantly watching out crossing roads and for some reason Brisbane felt more friendly. Oh and Brisbane definitely had the best WiFi, I didn’t need to look for it, it found me. Every time I took a picture it was uploaded without me needing to do anything.

Monday 3rd March

Woke to another day at sea with the sun now shining. Up to breakfast later than usual for a sea day, but what does it matter when you have the whole day ahead of you? We went to another of Diane Simpson’s talks, this time on mindfulness. Not as interesting as the others, in fact as she was teaching techniques to explore the mind, I fell asleep and only woke up when Carol nudged me to tell me I was snoring. Still they can’t all be fascinating. Dinner table now empty apart from us. I suppose they can’t put Japanese speakers on as there would not be much to talk about. Let’s see what happens after Brisbane. Clocks go back tonight so we will be ten hours ahead from tomorrow. That’s about it for today, off for a pint now.

Whitsunday Island and The Great Barrier Reef

Thursday 6th March

We woke shortly before anchoring in Pioneer Bay on what was Queen Elizabeth’s maiden call to Whitsunday Island some 700 miles to the north of Brisbane and, contrary to what we had been told, we found ourselves 6 nautical miles off Airlie Beach, quite a trip ashore. Not to worry, instead of the ships tenders (holding about eighty people and travelling at about 7 knots) we had local catamarans holding some three hundred plus and travelling at 22 knots. We waited for the initial rush to subside which in 300 tranches took no time at all. Airlie Beach is a small town (population 4,000) with no building older than 35 years but it is the gateway to the 74 Whitsunday Islands and the Great Barrier Reef so is an important tourist town with all the facilities of such. It is a major yachting and boating centre as well as having many hotels, back-packers accommodation, holiday apartments and camping sites. The town has a very new look about it with pristine facilities, a bathing lagoon just above the beach which at first sight seems superfluous as it was immediately adjacent was a very attractive beach, until that is, we read the notice about the dangers of stingers (or jelly fish as we know them) some of their stings can be fatal and the season for them stretches from November to May. Incredibly there were people swimming. But for all its superficial attractions there was the odd sinister hint that conditions were not always as tranquil. Passing along a boardwalk through some mangroves we spotted the bow section of what was once a very expensive catamaran or a very sleek yacht and not very old as the glass fibre broken edges were pure white and the metalwork was still gleaming. It would have taken some powerful waves to get it embedded as far into the mangrove as it was and once our attention was drawn to it we began to notice other storm detritus that they had not been able to clear away. It would appear that there is a price to pay for living in paradise and in this part of the world that price is set and levied by the forces of nature.

We spent a very enjoyable few hours in Airlie Beach culminating in a pint or two in a Bar overlooking Pioneer Bay which was where I first noticed something odd about the ship. It was still very much in the same position as when we disembarked, not I hasten to add, that I expected it to have sailed or anything, but the tide had clearly turned whilst we were ashore and the ship hadn’t. Furthermore the wind was on the port beam so even if the tide was not sufficient to shift her the stiff breeze should have, very odd, especially as when we returned on board it was clear that not only was there a strong tide but the wind on the port beam was causing a list of a degree or so to starboard. So I wandered down to deck 3 to see if they had a stern anchor set that could account for this. But it was simpler than that. The ships engines were running, the starboard pod was pointing to starboard countering the pressure bought by the wind, and the port pod was countering the pressure bought by the tide. I have never been on a ship that kept her engines running whilst anchored before, but it is probably to avoid the destruction of sea bed coral, I’ll let you know if I find out. One very disappointing aspect of this part of Australia is the sea. I had expected it to be crystal clear, but it is opaque, almost milky in appearance so no chance of seeing the coral (even in a glass bottomed boat) again I’m not quite sure what the reason for this is but if I find out I’ll let you know.

Wednesday 5th March

Navigation in this part of Australia is tricky to say the least. Most of the sea bed is covered in protected coral where is even illegal to drop anchor due to the damage it inflicts on the sea bed, not so much the anchor itself but the long length of chain that is laid out on the sea bed after the anchor is dropped. As the tide turns and the ship swings round into its new position, it drags this chain round, crushing and damaging a huge circle of coral that’s taken hundreds of years to grow. When you get hundreds of ships dropping anchor, you begin to realise the scale of damage this creates. So for all the smaller boats that want to spend the night in a particular anchorage the reef authorities have provided buoys to moor to free of charge. The majority of people here are extremely careful about the reef so it tends to be self-policing. Last night we retraced our wiggly course out of Brisbane, re-entering the Pacific Ocean and turning North then North West into the Capricorn Channel which led us into the Great Barrier Reef (not the sort of place you want to wander without a pilot) and so for the whole time we are in the GBR we will have a pilot on board.

We went to the first of a series of talks by a forensic dentist on some of the cases she has been called to help solve from bite mark evidence. More gruesome crimes and fascinating switches in cases brought about by bite marks or not (as in the case where the marks turned out to be crayfish bites as the body had been in water for 24 hours). Not really a job I’d relish doing, looking forward to her other talks.

Towards the end of the day we were heading into Whitsunday Passage which leads us to Pioneer Bay where we will anchor off. Yes I know! but more about that tomorrow.

Departing Australia

Saturday 8th March

This morning was to be an unusual day at sea in as much as we were so close to land we could almost touch it. We had barely sat down to breakfast when the distant islands started to get closer, (I know we were getting closer to them, but you know what I mean). We were taking a scenic route round Doini Island and entering the Waibuyounna Channel. It was an amazing sight as we passed between these tropical Islands, some the usual volcanic shape, tips of cones covered in jungle sticking out of the sea whilst others were really quite flat and surrounded by coral lagoons but still covered in undergrowth, their tropical nature underlined by palm trees poking above the surrounding undergrowth. If I say we were as close to shore as we would have been sailing up Lake Windermere you will get some idea of how narrow these straights were. Dozens of what we thought at first were kayaks were dotted around the straight, these turned out to be fishing canoes and the incumbents waved their hands and paddles as we passed. Exiting the straights we turned to pass closely between the islands of Samarai and Sariba and then into the Kawanasausau Straight. By 10:00am we were passing Isulailai Point which is the Eastern tip of the main Island of Papua New Guinea, after which we headed out into slightly more open waters, though we were still surrounded by dozens of islands many of which are wrapped in stoles of white clouds. The temperature was only in the high twenties but with the humidity also very high, it felt just like the whole sky was laying on you. The humidity was creating some interesting effects on the islands as we passed. Some of the smaller pointy head islands looked like volcanoes as the moist air rose up the slopes and turned to white cloud near the top, giving the impression of an eruption taking place. On other larger islands the slight wind carried the moist air diagonally across the face of the slopes, turning to cloud as it passed over ridges in the landscape, giving the impression of multiple forest fires pouring out white smoke.

Talking about weather, last night after dinner, I wandered up to the Garden lounge for a nightcap or two and was fascinated to see the rain. The Garden lounge has a glass roof and glass walls between it and the lido deck where the swimming pool is. We were sailing through a very intense tropical storm and the rain was so heavy that there wasn’t room for all the individual raindrops. In amongst the torrential rain, drops were clumping together in what I can only describe as huge gobbets of water landing with great splats on the roof of the Garden lounge and the deck outside, in the flood lights it looked like lumpy rain. Water was cascading off the upper deck surrounding the pool like a circular waterfall, intensifying first on one side and then the other with the roll of the ship. It was a first for me, I didn’t venture out, for two reasons, one, I was still in black tie (last night being a formal night) and two, I’m sure that being hit on the head by one of those gobbets of water would have been painful, from the sound they made on landing.

Anyway later in the day we passed some larger islands, altering course several times as we wended our way through this congested area, squeezing between Daloloia and Fonoie islands, then passing between the Trobriand and Marshall Bennett Island groups before finally entering the Solomon Sea.

We went to another of Diane Simpson’s talks in the morning. This time on the left and the right side of the brain, I didn’t fall asleep this time as she was quite funny. The day ended almost as wet as yesterday, with most of the nearby islands disappearing into the murk and gloom but it was still hot and humid.

Friday 7th March

Day at sea with a short stop at Yorkeys Knob (no one got ashore as it was for ship clearance on leaving Australia)

We went to an insight lecture on three weeks that changed the world, given by Michael Howard (now Lord Michael Howard). It detailed the events in cabinet during May 1940 when Winston Churchill took over as prime minister and just how near we came to taking the appeasement route with Hitler. The ‘War Cabinet’ were minded to give it a go and contact had been made with Mussolini to facilitate it. Churchill who was fervently against it but looked like being out voted, staged a coup of his own and thwarted the move, but only just. It was a fascinating insight to what actually was five crucial days. The theatre was packed and included a lot of Aussies and Americans so there were some great questions afterwards which he handled extremely well and diplomatically. An interesting fact that came from an American in the Audience was that the USS Winston Churchill is the only American warship named after a foreign leader, the only American Warship that flies a Union Flag (Jack) and the only American warship that carries a Royal Navy officer as part of the permanent ships company. I hope the rest of his talks are as good.

Formal night tonight, we have four new people at the table, Aussies and both guys are ex Aussie Navy (Musicians) one ended up as director of naval music, but they both have a navy sense of humour and are constantly being told off by their wives and the lamp is always swinging.

Life next to an active volcano

Sunday 9th March

Not exactly the ideal way to be woken up in the morning, but it was a first for me. In response to my shoulder being vigorously shaken, I opened my eyes and saw an arm extended over my head pointing to the patio doors. My eyes slowly followed the direction of the pointed finger and focussed on, of all things, a volcano with a plume of smoke and ash pouring out of it on the far side of a small bay. OMG! (as I believe modern vernacular would have it), what are we doing so close to such a menacing looking vent? Has the Captain gone mad? It would appear so, as we are in the process of mooring alongside in Rabaul, Papua New Guinea. The town and port of Rabaul is built would you believe, inside the remains of a volcano or caldera as those who know about these things call it. Not only that, but the caldera is surrounded by active volcanoes one of which is sitting right on the edge of the very same caldera in which we are floating, looking like an angry black boil, belching all sorts of nasty’s into the sky. A bit too close for comfort if you ask me, but nobody was so I got up took a photo of Mr Nasty or Mt Tavurvur as it prefers to be called, had a shower and a shave and went to breakfast. By this time Mr Nasty had calmed down and only a couple of wisps of steam could be seen around the rim, I took another photo, so I had a before and after if you get my drift.

Rabaul has not had a happy history since its foundation in 1910. In 1937 there was a catastrophic volcanic eruption which killed 507 people and left large areas in ruin. During WWII it was home to over 100,000 Japanese troops and thus attracted a large number of American air raids. Having rebuilt it into a popular commercial and recreational centre of prominence it was again destroyed and buried under several feet of ash when in 1994 Mr Nasty (Mt Tavurvur) blew his top big style, closely followed by Mt Vulcan on the opposite side of the harbour. We didn’t need reminding that Rabaul lies on the Pacific ring of fire as the last eruption that closed the airport was in 2008 and Mr Nasty remains extremely active. Whilst we were ashore he had a big belch and we watched as a cloud of ash rose up over the ship (Paul will post the photo’s when we get them uploaded, but we are at sea for five days now).

The town from the ship looked a very sad affair following its various misfortunes. The harbour was home to quite a few semi sunken ships (victims of the heavy ash clouds) and the area in front of the ship had an oil terminal to the left an empty car park and a container park with a dozen or so containers. Right in front of the ship was an empty corrugated iron warehouse with no doors. Someone had placed a container in front of the opening to prevent theft of the non-existent goods within. A line of ramshackle minibuses queued to take passengers on some of the organised trips, missing windows covered up with polythene and tape. You have to hand it to the inhabitants of this devastated area for persevering in the face of continuing aggression from the likes of Mr Nasty.

After breakfast as we made our way ashore we encountered Graham and Janet who were ‘also exploring’ and as we left the dockyard gates we sort of followed the “ant trail” of returning passengers. As you have probably gathered, the town is not too big and it seemed like every inhabitant had turned out with a stall selling various tourist souvenirs etc. Up the road we walked turned left still following the ant trail, Graham asked one of the returning ants, “is the forage worth it?” and got the answer “keep foraging” (or words to that effect). So we ploughed on through the turgid humidity (temperatures now hitting 36°C) and by now the pool back on board was becoming almost irresistible to Janet, but she persevered and we wandered into a local supermarket. Now I know a lot of people knock Tesco, but I think the looks I exchanged with Janet said something along the lines of “phew! we don’t know how lucky we are”. For all the problems these people have, we couldn’t help but notice how they were all smiling and we were not pestered by anyone, the stall holders, the children, or the people selling trips. All we got on our walk was “good morning, hello, and other welcoming messages. As we were retuning past the stalls near the gates, one of the passengers with a young son (5 or 6) was talking to a stall holder about a necklace her son had picked up was holding and we overheard the mother saying how much? and the ladies behind the stall were saying “no no it’s ok, you take”. I have never seen that, in all the places I have visited, as we walked on I heard the mother thanking them, saying you are so nice. In the local market some of the stalls only had a bunch of sad looking bananas or a few shrivelled sweet potatoes but everywhere people were smiling.

We didn’t stay there long, we were due to sail at 15:30 but were delayed by a tour that was late returning. It was 16:00 by the time we let go and inched away from the wharf, through all the little boats with families out for a days fishing, all of them waving up and giggling when we waved back. We performed a 180° turn very gingerly before picking up a bit of speed and headed for the gap in the caldera, past the old airport now under a metre or two of ash, past Mr Nasty still puffing yellow smoke and ash and grumbling away, out through the gap and turning left we felt the engines pick up to increase speed as we sailed through Mr Nasty’s plume smelling very strongly of sulphur. I really don’t know how those people can live so peacefully and happily inside what is effectively a very live and feisty volcano. The big caldera of the first volcano has within its walls two smaller active volcanoes one of which is continuously venting. This means that the chimney that fed the original eruption is still wide open and liable to blow at the drop of a hat with little or no warning. Now that’s either very very brave or very very stupid or perhaps both.

That’s about it for today folks, oh! Except for one thing. Thanks to Ruth for spotting that I was reliving February. Days here drift by like the ports and the countries, one day merges into another, I don’t know what day of the week it is let alone what date, so I follow the auto text suggestion when I start the next days blog little realising that it was still suggesting February.

That’s how I managed to forget my 21st birthday, but an even sadder side to this is, it looks like only Ruth is reading this :’-( .

Day at sea

Tuesday 11th March

Woke today to find that someone had had run a roller over the sea during the night, it was still flat but instead of a bright blue gloss finish, it was now a gun metal blue with a stippled finish and although it is warm, the sky is a mass of cotton wool clouds, with the odd patch of blue showing through. This is not the end of the good weather, it is not the beginning of the end, but it is the end of the beginning (apologies to Winston Churchill). Downhill all the way now (temperature wise) to Japan. Talks today Life and times in politics Michael Howard and Graphology (handwriting analysis) Dianne Simpson. Both very good and very entertaining. Michael had some very funny anecdotes in what we were expecting to be a rather dry talk. And Dianne mixed humour in with some very revealing aspects of famous (and infamous) people. She had samples of Peter Sutcliffe’s handwriting, from the days leading up to a killing, on the day of a killing and the days after which she displayed on the screen. As he was a delivery driver they had lots of examples, which they analysed in detail after he had been committed. And weirdly the same changes occur today when he approaches and goes through a psychotic period (though of course they hide all the potential weapons when he does). She had us all do writing under various conditions showing how our writing is influenced by circumstances and after having us write a sentence, accurately (in both mine and Carol’s) told us some of our character traits from things like the positioning of the dot over the i and the lead in (and out) tails on letters.

Heavy Weather

Wednesday 12th March

The sea got lumpy overnight and we woke to 45mph wind and 3.5m waves, rain was heeming it down, flooding the balcony but the temperature was about 23°C so wasn’t all bad. Sailing through the Philippine Sea, we passed over the Challenger Deep, part of the Mariana Trench named after HMS Challenger who (in 1875) was the first ship to record its depth of 7 miles. Seven Miles Deep! don’t know how they did it, unless they had a 7 mile long piece of string and a very long tape measure.

We had somebody fall overboard today and in all that rough weather too, then we sank! It all started with a small fire in the officer’s quarters which spread until we had to abandon ship. I didn’t bother as I was having a cup of tea in the Lido, but all the ships company were having a lot of fun playing what we used to call in the Navy “war games” We went down to book a tour in Bombay (sorry mumble; or something like that) in the foyer there was a huge group of people in life jackets (or preservers as they now call them) and as I passed through the group I noticed the captain talking to a young girl. He was asking her questions like, what is your name? and, what is your number? Ah, I thought, some things never change. Poor girl was so flustered that she was having difficulty answering those questions, but I shouldn’t laugh it wasn’t that long ago I was asked for my name and when I paused to think, the young lady said quite sweetly “question too difficult for you?” so I know how she felt.

Anyway we booked a full day in Bomubia, may as well make use of those visas. Talk today was by John Penycate on religions of the world, he had some interesting things to say about the USA.

Carol spent most of the day asleep, didn’t even make the gym, it’s the rocking motion that does it. That meant that she read her book till four in the morning so I guess she will need to reset her body clock. That’s about all for today, by the way Laura, no one really fell overboard, there was no fire and we didn’t really sink just in case you were wondering, it was a practise just in case.

Wind Up

Thursday 13th March

We are still in the Philippine Sea (far Eastern edge), relentlessly making for Japan. North that is; towards the cold that is; just as we note that the UK is getting a mini heat wave. Funny that. We arrive at places and they say oh! Look, you’ve bought the rain we’ve been waiting for rain for over a year, yippee, humph. Never mind, after Japan we do a handbrake turn and head south again. Today is warm and sunny but still a bit windy, the sea has swung round to the south and is lighter, so as it is coming at us from astern, conditions have eased somewhat. Two talks this morning one by Sandra Howard on becoming an author, how she got into writing at 65, it was sort of OK a bit like the curates egg ‘good in parts’. The second by Diane Simpson on handwriting again, this time using samples of anonymous guest’s handwriting (we, the audience knew who they were, she didn’t) she gave an overview of their character, which turned out to be remarkably accurate.

We were on our own for dinner tonight as the other four on our table were going to the Jasmine restaurant for an Asian meal, so as it was a formal night I decided that as a bit of a wind up for Anna, I would sit on one side of the table and Carol would sit over on the opposite side. Which we did and it was a few minutes before Anna spotted us, she came over a bit nonplussed and tried to be polite; Sir, Madam, she began. We are dining alone tonight I informed her the others are going to the Jasmine, a hesitant oh? was all she could manage, as she clearly didn’t really know what else to say. Unfortunately at this point Carol could not maintain a straight face and Anna immediately knew she was being wound up. The relief on her face as she realised she would not be serving us across an otherwise empty table was a picture as I walked round to sit next to Carol again. Had I been paying more attention I would have noticed that glance across her shoulder as she went for the bread rolls, which could only mean one thing. She returned with the basket of rolls and placed one on Carol’s plate before coming round to me and as she placed one on my plate she said quietly enough for only Carol and myself to hear “sir is teasing me again?” Yes I’m afraid I am I admitted feeling rather pleased at the effect it had had on her. Nothing more was said, the wine waiter served the wine and Anna came back to pour our water and we chatted idly whilst waiting for the menus. Anna bought them over and handed Carol hers and then handed me mine, before walking away, again with that glance over her shoulder which this time I did notice, hmmm something’s afoot I thought as I opened my menu. And it was. My menu was written entirely in Japanese! Where do women learn that innocent look? Anna came over and asked, are you ready to order sir? as sweetly as ever and feigned complete surprise when I showed her my menu. Oh sir I am so sorry! I don’t know how that happened. I do I said, Anna is getting her own back. “I’m afraid I am sir” she said with a giggle replacing it with the English version, sigh! there was a time you could get away with these things scot free, not any more.

Free line dancing lessons

Friday 14th March

Now well into the North Pacific Ocean and closing in on Kagoshima (300 Nautical Miles remaining), temperature still slowly falling towards the high teens, weather blustery, sea state lumpy (I know that is not a technical term but it adequately describes it). Wind has backed round to port which means that the veranda door now yanks open when the handle is pressed, as opposed to having both of us lean against it to force it open, as happened a couple of days back when the wind was on our starboard beam.

There was a basic Japanese language class today to help enhance our experience whilst visiting Japan, which I did not attend on the grounds that by approaching a local and reciting in perfect Japanese your well-rehearsed phrase “excuse me could you tell where the train station is?” you are merely inviting the individual to assume you are fluent in their language and will understand perfectly the voluble flood of Japanese you get in return. As you haven’t a clue what they have just said, you then recite your second well-rehearsed phrase in perfect Japanese “I am sorry I do not speak your language” at this stage you can no doubt begin to understand why the British have acquired a reputation for a strange sense of humour, and you have merely served to irritate the local who then storms off muttering blurry inglish, which does not exactly serve to enhance your experience (or theirs). Judging by the large number of ‘students’ in the class, there are going to a heck of a lot of irritated Japanese around by the time we leave their country.

Talks today were World challenges in 2014 Michael Howard, which was very good and he handled the questions extremely professionally, as he should do being a barrister. John Penycate’s was OK but he reads his talks and they sound like an episode of Panorama, when he switches to personal anecdotes his style changes so much it could be two people delivering the talk. He also made a laboured joke about Michael Howard which many people (myself included) felt was in poor taste and unnecessary.

The weather got progressively worse during the evening and walking down the main drag to dinner I noticed that all that was missing was line dancing music, as everyone moved in unison first to the left and then to the right. I was tempted to clap on each change of direction but didn’t think Carol would be amused. The battle with Anna goes on, as tonight I ordered my pudding in French and without batting an eyelid she replied in Polish.

Clocks go back an hour tonight which puts us nine hours ahead of you. Oh and if you want to reply to anything without logging in to the blog and filling in that little box (which incidentally is posted for everyone to view) you can just hit reply to the alert email you get when a new item is added and the reply comes direct to me as a private email and is not posted on the blog.

Volcanos, graffiti & songs

Saturday 15th March

We arrived in Kagoshima to a welcoming crowd of Japanese well wrapped up and madly waving little orange flags like their lives depended on it. An excellent band played their hearts out as we berthed at a brand new liner terminal on a huge rectangle of reclaimed land. The terminal took about a 1% of the available area that had been reclaimed which looked a bit incongruous as this strip had been landscaped (including mature trees) whilst the remaining 99% was white compressed hard core with a frame of reinforced concrete, most of which was currently being used as a temporary car park for the assembled crowd. The backdrop to this visage was the city of Kagoshima, scrunched together at the base of a mountain range that looked like it was deliberately nudging the whole community into the bay. In fact as we were to learn later, the whole population of Japan of over one hundred million souls inhabit just 5% of the country that is available, most of it similarly surrounded by mountain ranges like the one surrounding Kagoshima. On the far side of the bay nestling in amongst a dozen or so peaks we espied yet another smoking volcano. I wondered if that was Sakurajima. Impressed that I know the name of Japanese volcanoes? Don’t be, Sakurajima is the destination of our trip today and as it is a volcano it was a safe bet that, this was the one. I am not sure how wise it is climbing the side of Japan’s most active volcano, but if my blog stops here then you will know it turned out to be not at all wise.

Immigration turned out to be the usual scrum with the queue going twice round the ship (or so it seemed) and like the Americans, the Japanese wanted everyone’s finger prints, though their fingerprint machines proved far more temperamental than the American ones. The times allocated for everyone to attend were quickly ignored by most passengers. Those going on trips jostled with those due to leave the ship at this port as their departure times loomed large. Harassed ships staff attempting to improve things by changing instructions and fast tracking these passengers only succeeded in raising the ire of those who had been assiduously queuing for an hour or more. Once more we were reminded of how effectively and efficiently immigration was achieved when immigration officials sailed with us from the port prior to entry. One can’t help wondering how a company with the experience Cunard have, keep getting caught with their pants down by immigration procedures. Everything else they organise seems to run like clockwork. Luckily we were near the front of the queue and our tour was only delayed 30 mins because of those caught in the mêlée. The main complaint we heard, was as always, lack of information, though I suspect the reason information was not forthcoming was because the delays were caused by difficulties with the fingerprinting devices and to broadcast this would only serve to embarrass our hosts. I was efficiently processed, my finger prints were taken by a pretty young girl who was very apologetic when her equipment didn’t work, she wiped my fingers with a pad and kept saying push harder sir, push harder! which I did and finally when she was satisfied she cleared me for entry.

We disembarked into a beautiful sunny spring morning and boarded our coach. We had a delightful tour guide called Hiroko who’s English was excellent and her knowledge of the ancient history of the area prodigious. She introduced us to our driver Mr Sugarshitta who was more smartly dressed and smiled more than any military man I have seen and off we went into? Yes you’ve guessed, traffic. We think we have bad traffic but Japans traffic is different, it flows like toothpaste, very smoothly, but very slowly. We sort of oozed along rather than flowed, which is why we were grateful for Hiroko who worked valiantly at keeping us informed and entertained. Remarkably for a high-tech country, her presentation aids were decidedly low tech. She had hand drawn in felt tip pen her pictures to describe the subjects she was talking about (inadvertently showing us a drawing of a Buddha upside down, which we all thought was deliberate, a sort of Buddha doing yoga). Her map of Japan which was stuck over the TV kept falling down and the Cunard lady volunteered to hold it up while Hiroko used an unnecessary extending pointer to indicate the areas she was talking about (a finger would have worked just as well), I loved it. We eventually turned up at the ferry which we drove on and ten minutes later drove off at the ferry terminal on Mount Sakurajima. Now people say Mount Sakurajima is impressive from a distance (and it is) but up close it is not! It’s alarming, there is a steady rain of ash which we were told was nothing to worry about as the volcano was behaving itself today. From the state of the cars parked outside it was hard to believe, they looked like they had been parked there for years. We wandered around the paths below the main vent which was about a 1000 metres above and realised that the noise we were listening to was not the wind, but gas hissing; no roaring out of what looked to us like a very small crater. Anyone who has heard a pressure cooker hissing will know the feeling. Unbelievably this volcano has erupted 830 times in the previous twelve months, (it is the world’s most active volcano) it sounded like it was about to go again when we were there, but all that was happening was puffs of smoke and ash like a contented pipe smoker sat by his Tele. 5,000 people live on the island and they have an ash collecting service, we think we have enough different coloured bins, but if you live on the island you place all the ash you sweep up in yellow plastic bags which you place outside in a little covered area to be collected. Everywhere we went there were little shelters not unlike an Anderson shelter (that ages me) but constructed in cement, just in case there was a belch, because then the volcano spits out rocks as well as dust and these are a bit dangerous if they land on your head. I picked one up (about the size of a small plum) and they are not light. The islanders were not only happy to live there, they were proud of the produce they could grow in the ash. Giant radishes were their best produce, apparently one of their radishes appears in the Guinness Book of Records as the largest radish ever grown, but everything else grew better, sweeter and bigger. Makes you think that there is a market for the ash as a growth enhancer. Anyway after tasting the radishes and the tiny sweet oranges and the baked sweet potatoes it was time to bid farewell to the world’s most active volcano and we drove onto the ferry and back across the Bay (which by the way was created by? Yes you’ve guessed it a volcano, about three thousand years ago). On the way back Hiroko informed us that she had forgot to sing the song she was supposed to sing to appease the volcano on the way there, but she would sing it now on the way back, which she did. A delightful little ditty in the manner of all Japanese songs, ie not easy to join in with, however it got a round of applause which pleased her. Next stop was Sengan-en Garden which was three hundred years old and used to belong to the ruling samurai. As we pulled into the car park we were directed into our bay by a young lady in another very smart uniform and a very loud referee’s whistle, which she used as a reversing signal. As we reversed in she gave intermittent long blasts on the whistle which shortened in length and increased in number the closer we got to the wall, upon reaching the desired position this changed to a long steady blast. Japan the home of all the latest gadgets in cars was still using someone with a whistle to reverse coaches into bays, perhaps they have a very powerful car park attendants Union.

They were very proud of this garden which used something they called ‘borrowed scenery’ using Mount Sakurajima as a garden hill and Kino Bay as a garden lake. I think Capability Brown called it Landscape Gardening. Everything was immaculate, the lawns, rockeries, hedges you name it. But there was some strange incongruities, for instance high up on the hillside was some Japanese writing on a big piece of cliff face which Hiroko explained was put there by an ancient samurai as a joke. He had 4,000 workers carve the cliff flat and then engraved the characters ‘THIS IS BIG’ Well I don’t suppose anyone told him it wasn’t funny because samurais could get a bit nowty if you didn’t laugh at their jokes. But I couldn’t help wondering what the 4,000 workers thought about having to carve what was after all, ancient graffiti and not very good graffiti at that. There’s nothing new in the world of vandalism. We spent a good hour or so wandering round appreciating things like the 300 year old falling down tree, a statue of a lion standing on its head (another ancient samurai joke) we tasted a local drink made of vinegar and honey, it tasted of vinegar and honey (another ancient samurai joke? No, but it tasted like one) it was supposed to do you all sorts of good. We asked Hiroko if we could taste some Saki she said no but she knew a song about that and bolstered by the success of the previous song, she sang us the song of Saki, which sounded a lot like the previous one, except we could hear the odd mention of the word Saki in it.

On our way back as we oozed along in the traffic Hiroko once more launched into her routine of facts and figures about Japan, it was amazing the sheer magnitude of information she had stored in her head. Of course she could have been making it up but I doubt it as it was obviously a passion. She explained the difference between a temple and a shrine (Buddhists worship in a temple and Shinto’s worship in a shrine) and explained the paradox of the total number of Buddhists, Shinto’s and Christians’ in Japan totalling about 250 million. Japanese love festivals, especially Christmas, so to be able to take part in all of them, they worship and take part in all three religions. Someone asked her when the Cherry Blossom bloomed? Big mistake! Some of the early blossoms were blooming already, but she explained that the big burst of blossom would be in two weeks time. However she knew a song about cherry blossom which she proceeded to sing. This song was quite a bit longer than the previous two songs so it was quite a relief when she got to the end, unfortunately she also knew it in English so she then sang the whole song again in English! Sigh! Perhaps we should not have applauded her singing so enthusiastically, Hiroko was obviously not into irony.

When we got back to the ship the quay was crowded and there was a strange thundering noise which we finally tracked down to some traditional Japanese drummers who were bashing their drums quite ferociously, so took a couple of videos, then we had a look round the rest of the stalls that were set up, kimono wearing ladies and traditional dancers. They were all having a great time and cars were still pouring into the car park. Chairs were being put out for what looked like a fully fledged orchestra and about half an hour before sailing this turned out to be so, except for one thing all the players were school children and they really were superb. They played Glenn Miller numbers and the soloists, both boys and girls displayed a maturity way beyond their years and they played a large selection of his repertoire. As we cast off and reversed away from the quayside a huge cheer went up and there was once more a mass of madly waving orange flags. The band broke into “In the mood” once more and the ships foghorn let rip with a series of farewell blasts.

Drummers - 55MB