Mt. Cook and Rotorura

Writing this in Auckland with about an hour or so to go before the bus leaves for the airport and home. Wow. What a trip this has been. Left Queenstown for the drive north to Mt. Cook. The terrain along the way was merely beautiful, so I'll save the superlatives for Mt. Cook. Since Mom had the catbird seat (#1 row) in the bus, I joined her to be able to look out the windsheild. We spotted Mt. Cook from about thirty-five miles away, and it was an impressive sight. Took some photos through the windsheild, which I'll probably delete when I see them. Some more from a turnout about 25 miles away, but the best were at the Hermitage hotel which is about five miles from the mountain. I have to say, on a clear day like we had (only 3 days in 10, according to Scotty, this is something to see. The distances here are immense, as we drove up a huge glacial plain with steep mountains on either side, but many miles away. Cook was snow capped and looked like someone stuck a giant picture up there. I pity those who make this trip and end up with an overcast or misty day when the mountain is shrouded. We took a 2 mile (each way) stroll to a lookout point. Poor Loni was suffering from excruciating back pain, which we think is caused by the cold she has lodging in her muscles. She can't lift her arm above her waist, so I'm the beast of burden. She's gutting it out with mega ibuprofen, which isn't helping much. Once back from the viewpoint it was time to re-hydrate with another local brew. Very nice sitting on the deck of the lodge gazing at the mountain with ale at hand. Another buffet for dinner, but absolutely grand. Finally got my rack of lamb, cooked perfectly, along with salmon, etc. Fabulous desserts. Major diet when we get back. Nothing to do after the sun goes down, so plopped down in the room and watched (endured) "The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen." Good God, does Sean Connery need money that badly? Up at 5:00 am for an 0-dark hundred departure. At least everyone got another chance at 40 winks as we motored off to Christchurch to fly to the North Island. Once the light comes up, we were crossing the Canterbury Plains, which are wholly unremarkable. More dozing. One hour flight to Rotorura. We were warned it often is better named Roto-Rooter, as this is the home of the steam vents, geysers, sulphur pots, and not-so-ancient volcanoes. Turned out not to be bad at all, just an occasional hint of putrid odors. Did a quick bus tour around town and stopped at Rainbow Springs. This is a tourist trap, and the only one on the trip that everyone agreed they could delete from the itinerary. Who needs to see scads of Californian rainbow trout, no matter how big they are, nor the comatose kiwi bird, which wasn't at all fooled by the dark enclosure to make it think it was night (nocturnal beastie). Looked like a ball of feathers back in the gloom of its enclosure. Checked into the Rydges hotel, which had a nice gym, so I got my first (and only) workout of the trip. Oye. Going to need many more. That night we had dinner in the hotel showroom for an alleged traditional Maori hang-feast. Everything was supposed to be steam-cooked in the ground, but I didn't see any earth in the place, and what we had was your basic overcooked British-style meats. This was the worst of the included meals, again by unanimous acclaim, not just your finicky reporter. The show was ok, but I don't think the ancient Maori had guitars. At times, it resembled a Don Ho show, but the warrior posturing was kinda neat. They grimace and stick their tongues out to intimidate the enemy into not fighting. I kept trying to get a photo of this, but the #*$%)$*!@ 1-second delay on the camera while it's focusing caused me to "miss the moment" more than once. I think I'll go back to my 35-year-old SLR and film. After dinner, Dave passed out the group photo that we had taken in Sydney with the bridge and opera house as a backdrop. Also had a name-face guide so we can remember who everyone was. Tuesday morning it's off to see the geysers and mudpots. They also had a darkened kiwi enclosure, this time housing the stupid ones that thought it was night. Still, its hard to make anything out even when they're moving about. The steam was not so bad-smelling, and the geysers were not on schedule, so we took a few photos while trying to keep sulphur mist off the lens. Next stop was the Maori cultural center, and that was pretty interesting. They have apprentice carvers working away in a big room surrounded by a walkway that we tourists can stroll along to watch them chisel. Pretty intricate designs coming out of those logs. Saw the traditional houses, a demonstration of stripping some plant leaf to make twine and ropes (very neat). The weapons display was interesting and sobering. When the tongue routine failed, they ended up in hand-to-hand combat with short-handled axe-type weapons, with predictably awful results. They never had a weapon that was thrown or launched. Until Whitey arrived, anyway. Free time in the afternoon, so we roamed town looking for a place to eat, and ended up in a Robert Harris cafe. We thought it was local, but there's another here in Auckland, so I guess it's a chain. But great panini sandwiches and . . . homemade scones with raspberry jam and whipped cream. Oh yeah. Decadence personified. Walked to the local museum which is in a fantastic Victorian building that was a failed attempt at a world-class health spa. The terrible corrosion of the local waters was too much to keep up with. The surrounding grounds had lawn-bowling greens, so we watched for a while. One of the players came over to explain what was going on. We almost understood 3 words in 10 of his Scottish brogue. The balls aren't round, but slightly flattened and off-center weighted so they can throw them in huge arcs to try to go around the opponent's balls and get closest to the target ball. It's like watching paint dry, but some of the shots were amazing to watch unfold. Dinner that night at Hennesey's Irish Bar, with enormous plates of bangers and mash and Irish stew, with of course another local brew, topped off by a short Guiness. I appear to be drinking my way through NZ, but there's worse ways to go. Early crash that night, which was short-circuited for me. Poor Loni's cold has clogged her sinuses and she put on a virtuoso snoring performance. Had to retreat to the bathroom and set up bed on the floor, with predictable poor results. Zombie-time the next day. A three hour drive to Auckland, which is the only homely place we've been to on this trip. It's ... just ... a ... city. However, this is where our group splits up, with one half going on to Fiji, and the rest of us spending a bonus night and day in Auckland due to unavailability of plane space. Instead of putting us up in some dump, Collette put us in the best hotel of the whole trip, a place called the Duxton. The suite had not only a microwave, but a counterop stove, and a washer-dryer, all set into some very modern cabinetry. Very cool. For dinner we lucked into finding an Italian place that I'd like to transport back home. After several courses and a bottle of great Shiraz, I felt no pain and slept through the night. Running out of time now on this machine, so will bid adieu and run for it. Gotta get up the hill and make the bus. Adios!

QUEENSTOWN

But I'm ahead of myself. Left Christchurch by train to go over or through the Arthur's Pass. Great Gorges! Both an exclamation AND a description. Not a steam engine (they've got one of those down here), but old cars and spectacular views down into the river below. Very high tressels for the gulp factor. Went outside on the viewing platform, which is nothing more than a small space at the end of the car, outside, so the wind blows the camera around and you get to jostle the *&^)$$#!s who are hogging the prime viewing footage. Shot some stuff over one guy's shoulder so the results are questionable. The skies are darkening and it ... is .... raining, again. The views shut down to rain forest and mist-shrouded mountains. Stopped at the town of Hokitita for lunch in the downpour, exiting at ---- naturally --- the jade factory. Managed to keep Loni down to a small purchase. Wandered around and found "Sister Browne's" cafe. Four black-shirted local maids (as in, bound to be old-- ), actively making homemade meat pies and pitas for sandwiches. The small kitchen-ordering counter opened into the lobby of the local theatre which was doing double duty as a dining room. Had my back to the ticket booth and the signboard warning the local miscreants that anyone found trying to use an old ticket would be reported to the police and PERSONALLY BANNED FROM THE MOVIES FOR ONE MONTH! I think I know which was the worst fate in this rather remote hamlet. Couldn't order anything with lamb. Sorry mate, all the lamb gets exported to the States. Settled for beef pie which was quite tasty. Back to the rain to find some batteries which the Canon seems to be eating at a rapid clip. Avoided the "you really should use" lithium package at $49, and got some Kodak alkalines. They seem to be holding up quite well. We continued in the bus up the switchbacks in the mist to Franz Joseph Glacier, an even tinier and more remote spot in the road. Driving rain and the windshield wipers on the bus stopped working. There were surreptitious "clicks" heard throughout the bus as we one-by-one started fastening our seat belts. Scotty got us there. One-story motel accommodations, with excellent location: the only pub within 50 miles was 50 feet out our back door. Trying the local brews is a must-do part of my tour. I rate Montieth pretty good, especially the black. Amply fortified, we weaved our way to dinner and were greeted with lamb shanks! Yeah! Sister Browne lies. Great steamed cake-pudding with ice cream and raspberry coulie. Ready for our first laundry break, where I had a hilarious time pantomiming and finally doing for a Japanese tourist who couldn't figure out the washing machine. Bowing and domos in return.
Thursday -- Rain. More rain. Drummed all night on the metal roof of the motel, like white noise. Soothing, actually. Off to see the glacier, the wonderful glacier of Oz. Oops, wrong country. The Kiwi's definitely have a thing about the Aussies. Scotty is glaring at all the Aussie gear that people bought, and is encouraging a switch to Kiwi garb. An amazing number of people accommodate him as our trip progresses. Anyway, the glacier, a huge mass of dirty snow that winds down the mountain to a terminus across the way. The claim to fame is that it's only one of two (Chile has the other) that terminates in a temperate rain forest. Ferns and stuff. Wet, drippy ferns. On our way down the West Coast, which is almost unpopulated. Some grumbling from the troops whose luggage got wet in the underfloor baggage compartment. This Volvo bus seems to need a few repairs. Considering the roads we're on, I hope the brakes are in better condition than the rest. Climbing up to go through the Hasst Pass and along the Haast River. Now this is the NZ that we had imagined! Huge and numerous waterfalls shooting out and down the sides of sheer mountain sides. Lord of the Rings! And, right on cue, out comes the sun so we can see things. Now we've got great water flow and vision too! The bridges thoughout the south of NZ are all one laners. It's truly amazing how well the wait and go system works. You get the idea that this is how we might have been as a society about 100 years ago. Courtesy is alive and well. We pass sheep, more sheep, cattle, and deer farm after deer farm. Quite a sight to see hundreds of deer munching away quite contentedly. Stopped now by a long line (400 yards) of dairy cows, two by two, going back to the barn for milking. There goes the farmer at the tail end, wearing his wellies and looking like he just escaped from James Herriot country.

Stopped on a high hill overlooking our first view of Queenstown. We look down the mountainside at a series of switchbacks that would do Lombard street proud. Scotty plunges us down to ooohs, and ohs! The 180 degree turns are taken by taking up all of the curve very slowly, nosing the front out over the abyss, with full wheel lock pivoting the bus around the rear wheels. Quite a sight. Into Queenstown, which is actually quite small in terms of year-round population. We've seen estimates from 8,500 to 12,500, but they get 1.2 million visitors a year! I can see why. This is the most drop-dead gorgeous setting for a city that I've ever seen. Huge Lake Wakatipu, which winds in an S-shape through these towering cliffs all around. This is the most expensive real estate in all of NZ. Cheapest housing for a condo is about $300,000, and the homes go well north of $1 million. Egads. What do they do to afford them? (Those are NZ$, which is about US 75cents). To the north is a mountain range aptly called "The Incredibles" for the way the setting sun bounces off. That's something we've yet to see, as the clouds are back again. Our hotel is the nicest one thus far (the "Mercure"), but is the first not located in the center of town. It's a $10 cab ride into town. Our room didn't make the no-smoking cut, and seems to be the only one with an obstructed view (tree) of the entire sound. Oh, well, we'll be out and about, not lounging in the room. Off to dinner at the Peak, which is a 4-person gondola ride almost straight up. I kid you not. It seemed like an 80 degree climb. Rained all the way up, so we couldn't see anything once we'd left the station. Got a wind blast at the top that sent the gondola swinging and me gulping. Exited into the restaurant and saw nothing but white through the windows. Augh! We were the first of our group up the hill, so we waited for everyone to arrive and listened to a couple of Maori singers do their thing. Sounded Hawaiian. Once everyone arrived, we turned around to go into the dining room and . . . BEHOLD! The rain stopped, the clouds lifted, the town and lake and mountains appeared, all under a gigantic rainbow. Egads. I felt like Dorothy gazing upon the Emerald City. I'm going to have to permanently park my pessimism. We sat right next to the window for, well, I've said it before, but a drop-dead view. Great buffet dinner with every kind of shellfish imaginable, carved roast beefs and lamb, and venison stew. Endless dessert table that was very very good. We looked like we'd been starving instead of feasting for days -- pigged out to the max. Everyone was in a very happy mood, and that is woithout any booze.

Friday. 7:15 departure for Milford Sound. Scattered clouds, windy. Traveled all around the upper arme of Lake Wakatipu viewing the snow-capped peaks. We're in the #2 seat row now, so I can actually see out the front. The rain started up again and it was pretty dreary across the plains until we started into the mountains and passes, then it was mostly light drizzle with low clouds covering the tops of the sheer cliffs. However, the rain is a bonus. Waterfalls are shooting out or coursing down in giant ribbons everywhere around us. We truly have reached Middle Earth. I think I just saw a Hobbit. These valleys are all glacier-carved, about 2-3,000 feet high sheer granite walls. It's like Yosemite extended for a hundred miles. Because of the rain, the permanent falls are twice their normal size, and there are hundreds of falls that only appear during and right after a rain. So says Scotty. Where the slopes are a little less sheer, thick forest covers them. But the trees, which have been growing for hundreds of years to reach any size, have no real soil to cling to, only moss debris and such that has built up over time. So they give way in dramatic fashion every so often, and a tree slide ensues, which is just like a landslide without the dirt. One of them closed this road some years back for about 3 weeks, and the tourists had to be helicoptered over the Milford Sound. Actually, it's a fjiord, since it was carved by glacier action, but the misnomer took hold a long time ago. More wild switchbacks down into the final valley, to the small town where the tour buses meet the tour boats. We join a zillion chinese tourists on the Spirit of Milford, a giant 3-decked catamaran. We got crummy box lunches with sandwich and apple, the Chinese got nifty compartmentalized boxes with much nicer stuff. Once underway, I went out on deck to take my viewing with the mist, bow spray, and wind. Well, all I can say is, everything I've said before pales by comparison with Milford Sound. Once again the rain had done its thing and the falls shooting off the glaciated cliffs into the Sound were spectacular. I hope my pictures do them justice, but it's hard to tell on the tiny viewscreen on the Canon. I doubt any photo could, since you lack the roar of the falls at the least. The boat noses right into the bottom of a couple of falls, and its time to stow the camera as the blowing spray from hitting the sound is drenching. As we head further out into the mouth of the sound we pick up some nasty swells and the deck suddenly starts pitching pretty good. Guy next to me lost it and fell very hard on the deck on his elbow. Ouch. He insisted he was ok, but he's going to be hurting tonight. I played the Leonardo Decaprio bit on the bow and am sure I looked a perfect ass to the passengers inside. Tough. I was loving it! On our return we got oncoming porpoises that were riding the bow wake of an approaching boat. They peeled off and jumped their way toward us and then dove between our cat-hulls. Very nifty. I tried to get some shots, but the lousy 1 second delay on the camera shutter meant I got a lot of dark water instead. I''m going back to film! Back on the bus for the 3-4 hour ride to Queenstown. Everyone is bushed from all the bus travel, so lots of Z's coming from the back. Tomorrow is a free day, so we can sleep in for virtually the first time since we left. I think it's pub-time tonight for some grub and, of course, the local brew -- Speith, this time! Later.

CHRISTCHURCH

Greetings from even further down under. It's 9:00pm here in Christchurch, and we've just finished having dinner in the oldest residence (the first, actually) in Christchurch -- the Deans' home. First started in 1850 or so. But I'm getting ahead of myself, perhaps the result of again some fine NZ viniculture with dinner. Last night was in Sydney at the Opera House. I steeled myself by visiting a fine English pub at 3:00 in the afternoon and joined the rest of the punters sipping ale and watching the still incomprehensible cricket on the big screen tellies. You'll want to know, I'm sure, that Enland was 36 to 3 over South Africa, and the last bole was at a speed of 89.9 mph, and England has 15.4 overs, and that 242 is the average 1st innings total at Centurion. Got that? About all I understand is that Abba is on the jukebox. Oops, here's an update. Andrew Hall has 4 overs, 1 ball, 1 maiden (you think I'm making this up?) and 2 runs. Time for more beer. Black Ale. Yum. Some dwarf on the tool opposite me is rolling his own ugly ciggie. Is this atmosphere or what? Back to the hotel to pick up Mom and Loni, and off with the Squeaker to the Opera House. Today's lesson: designed in the 1950's by a Danish architect who entered only a "concept design." He was very surprised when he won, but not as much as the local engineers who had to figure out how to build the thing. The first company quit. Engineering didn't catch up to the design until the 60's. What was budgeted as a 4 year build at $7 million ended up 14 years later at $102 million. No problem. The ever resourceful Aussies simply funded the whole thing through their lottery. It was paid off in 2 years! Took a tour with Wayne, who started on a six-week gig and has been there for 15 years. The original architect -- the Dane -- got in a squabble with the local politicos over redesigns for the interior, and left in a huff. He has never been back to see his finished creation, and is now 86 years old in Denmark. Talk about a grudge. The building is as pretty close up as it is in the panoramic photos, but surprisingly smaller than it appears. It's almost intimate inside. The actual halls-- there are two main ones, one for symphony and one for opera-ballet -- are separate wooden buildings within the concrete shells. After the tour, we had dinner on the back veranda with a view of the Sydney bridge and the harbor. Not too shabby, especially with --- yup -- more wine. It was cool to the max to be sitting there in that setting with a nice glow on. Sydney at night is quite beautiful. All good things must end, and we trudged upstairs to the opera. Carmen as a story is no more comprehensible than any other opera, and it was made more difficult by the fact that our seats, although on the main flloor, were back under the overhang of the balcony, thus we couldn't see the translation screen above the stage. This made for major ZZZZZZZZ, at least after they did the Toreador song. I'm afraid my plebian tastes just zone out after the first few arias (if that's what they're called). The cognoscenti around me assured me that it was a fine performance. What do I know? I can say that the accooustics were terrific. Even I could make out some phrases with my 1966 French. Outside afterwards, the night was fairly magical. A soft summer night with Sydney glowing in the background and the Southern Cross beaming overhead. Back to the hotel afterwards to pack for the 6:00 suitcase call. My packing definitely is leaning more to the throw-it-in-and-sit-on-it style. I think I'm going to sleep in for two days when we finally get back. I think I forgot to tell you about our hotel room. Our view was of the office building across the 12 foot alley. Our bathroom also had a picture window facing the same way, with the glass being that pebbled sort that they make shower doors out of. Unfortunately, we could see through it fairly clearly to the windows directly opposite, and I'm sure it was a two-way street. I'm sure we disappointed the voyeurs by not turning on the bathroom lights. Got enough light through the window from the alleyway to get through most functions.

Off to the airport on a glorious morning, unlike the doom and gloom of the previous three days. Figures. We got seats even further back in the plane, but at least the heat was working and the flight was fine. No breakfast this time, because as soon as we got on board they told us to turn our watches ahead two hours to Christchurch time. All of a sudden it's lunchtime. Watched Sky Pilot And The World of Tomorrow, which I had seen in the theatre, just to use the Sennheiser's. Gotta amortize that cost, right? The approach to Christchurch was spectacular as we came over the mountains, which had snow on the peaks even at the height of summer. Mount Cook loomed big to the south. We're off for there tomorrow morning and will spend the night at Franz Joseph village. After landing and clearing customs (which we're now more savvy about --- declare everything, down to the smallest item, and they don't bother you), we took a brief bus tour of Christchurch. I have to say my mental image was MUCH different than the reality. They have great parks and gardens here, with some old English stone buildings scattered about, but the rest of the architecture is early (or late) Oakland. Frankly, the one afternoon spent here is about all you need. We did have a great meal tonight, as I mentioned at the beginning. The residence is on the river Avon that winds through Christchurch. They even had some punts tied up on the shore! Was built in stages from 1850 to 1900 by the Deans family, a star-crossed lot if ever there was one. I say that with all admiration as they were truly pioneers who accomplished a lot in relatively short lifetimes (tuberculosis being the villain). We had the place to ourselves and had a lively meal in the great room. We shared our table with an ex-Navy, ex-LAPD, Model-A Ford afficianado and his wife who were a lot of fun to talk with.

By the way, no pictures again. This setup in Christchurch doesn't even have individual computers at each station, just a screen, keyboard, and cables disappearing into the table. It does a floppy disc drive glued to the underside of the table, but no USB port. The camera has been crapping out anyway, eating batteries at a prodigious rate far in excess of what we have experienced before. Time to get out the manual and figure out what's going on. That's it for today's excursion. Off tomorrow to the mountains. We're boarding a train for a 2 1/2 hour trip through passes and over gorges on the way to Mount Cook. Sayonara.

SYDNEY

Sorry, gang, still no picture access. This cafe doesn't even have machines with USB ports, so can't even try to get frustrated with uploading. Can't remember where I left off, but probably after the snorkeling at Cairns. Next morning off to the Aboriginal center which is the only one in the country run by the Abos, thus presumably "authentic." Sort of like the setup in Hawaii for the Pacific Islanders. Had a completely depressing introductory film about the grotesque treatment of the Abos for the first 150 years -- makes our treatment of the Indians almost pale by comparison, but not by much. Presentation of the "dream-time" origin of the world. Apparently we all sprang from the right calf of the original being. Not sure what to make of that, and the rest of the story was equally obscure, but then so is Catholicism. Diggereedoo (sp??) exhibition was cool. They can breath in and out while making the continuous drone. You too can have one for about $300. Or you can get some PVC pipe and do your own. It'll sound just like the originals. Abo food and natural medicine talk focused mainly on those things that give or cure diarrhea, which seemed wildly amusing to our speaker. Got some leaves of some sort for Mom to sniff at to try to cure her cold. As I write this, it's several days later, and she's still coughing and wheezing, so . . . My spear throwing (with a sort of assist-thing to multiply your arm leverage) and my boomerang attempts all ended with plowing the earth about 10 feet in front of me. I'd clearly starve in the outback. The return boomerang was principally used to curve around behind game or birds and scare them towards you where you waited with presumably a better spear aim than I can muster.

We then took off for the mountain and the rain forest where our Army Ducks awaited. These are WW II relics that have been sort of restored for motoring along rough paths and plunging into lakes and streams. Yup, six wheel drive and propellers. Rides like putting your butt on a skateboard on a cobblestone street. Our driver was an enthusiastic sort who sported a handlebar mustache, bush hat, and 22 years of the same jokes. Still, he was much better than the guy piloting the craft behind us who barged past during one of our longer exposition stops and his group finished 15 minutes before ours. About all I learned was that rain forests grow quite slowly in Australia as the downpours wash all the nutrients from the soil, leaving precious little to sustain growth. Some of the things we were looking at had been holding on for hundreds of years. We had the rearmost set of seats, so we got the most bounce for the buck when on land. Also right above the exhaust, so we jounced and wheezed our way through the jungle. Dinner was at the park after the hoards of Chinese tourists had left, and we had some tranquil time. Aussies don't know how to cook meat except full bore. Forget that barbie stuff. Back to the hotel with the intrepid Carl at the wheel. Our last evening there, so Loni and I took a walk. Still 85 degrees and 100% humidity, only now the noseeums were out in force and Loni got eaten. Our wakeup call was for 3:00 am as our bus left at 4:00 for the airport. Tried drying the clothes in front of the airconditioner, but no go. Had to pack them damp. Yuck.

Breakfast on the flight to Brisbane. Change planes. Breakfast on the flight to Melbourne (Mel-bin, here). We eat everything in case we crash in the outback. Melbourne is a very nice place, with much strange preservation of old buildings by incorporating them into new structures. The most bizarre was an old brick tower from some foundry which was preserved under a conical dome that went up at least 250 feet. This was the centerpiece of a new indoor shopping mall that was being constructed as we walked through. It's the day before Chinese New Year here, and all of Kowloon is vacationing in Melbourne. Naturally we take leader Dave's suggestion and eat at . . . his favorite Chinese restaurant! Major major mistake. No service, indifferent food, healthy prices, and athree cockroaches that appeared out of the wainskotting next to Loni's elbow. Quick work with the napkin left some nasty business for the vacuum.. G'day Dave, no more recommendations. I didn't find the authentic British pub I was looking for until just before we left the next day. Friday morning, had a good breakfast at the hotel. Always bacon, sausages, grilled tomatoes, many fruits, a strange (and untried) porridge, excellent breads for toast, etc. This is consistently the best meal of the day. Even the coffee is delicious. They grow their own beans here which supposedly have much less natural caffeine. Whatever, it's good, and even when you order it from a fast-food kiosk, they make it fresh, like expresso. Melbourne has great parks, which we walked through for hours, and one has Captain Cook's father's house transported from England and set in the middle of one of them. Except for the lack of hills, we had a strong impression of being in San Francisco. Trolly cars, great neighborhood bars and cafes, and people on foot everywhere. In the afternoon, we boarded the bus for a trip to Phillip Island, about 2 hours away, the home of the Baby Penguin parade. Those caps are intentional, as that is their official name. The smallest of all the species, they stand about 11 inches high. They burrow in the hills, and go to the sea each morning to fish all day, then return at nightfall to cross the beach and climb back to their holes to regurgitate and feed the chicks. Watching this has become the principal industry in this area, and they've set up concrete grandstands at the edge of the beach to watch the penguins emerge and waddle towards and under you. I had visions of a mass migration, which the pictures in the brochures certainly encouraged. Actually, they reluctantly come out in ones or small groups of 3 or 4, take forever to decide whether to cross the beach, and then painstakingly waddle up. Being so small, and us so far back, this is an interesting phenomenom but a less than exciting event. Thank goodness for free wine with dinner, and for Mom who doesn't drink hers! Since nightfall isn't until about 9:00, we got back to the hotel just before midnight for, yup, a 5:00 wakeup call. Off to Canberra, the capitol. Guess I'll bring that up to speed later. We've been in Sydney for two days, have seen the Koala/etc. farm, the national opal collection (and salesroom), sailed around the harbor, ate dinner (actually, very good!, supplemented by our own bottle of Sauvignon Blanc) in a revolving restaurant overlooking everything. I sure wish I could post the pictures, as some of them are pretty nice. Our bus tour around the environs had highlights Nicole Kidman's garage door (brown), the church where Elton John got married in the early 70's (say, whaaat?), and the end of an entire commercial pier that was bought by Russell Crowe for his residence. Not enough, you say? Well, stick around for the Tom Jones concert in the park at night! Be still, my heart. Today we saw the immobile wombat, sort of an overstuffed koala-type thing, and had the obligatory picture taken petting it behind the ears--don't stick you hand in front or you lose digits. Also the koalas, of course, which were placed on a railing for our photgraphic amusement, but which immediately began traversing the rail, dropping unmentionables and leaving a liquid trail. So much for cuddling up for a photo op. Oooh, musn't forget the double wattled cassowary, the fearsome echidna, or the sleeping dingo. We're now whiling away the afternoon at the ecafe, waiting for Mom to have her hair done. We left her in the care of a rather dubious looking sort, upstairs in an old building. Hope we find her again. Tonight we're off to dinner at the Sydney Opera House, and then a performance of Carmen. I'd almost rather watch the wombats again. Til next time. -J

DOWNUNDER (at last)

Well, we survived four plane trips thus far, and I'm writing this from an internet cafe in Melbourne (Mel-bin, as they say here). It's been a circus trying to get on the internet. The hotels want way too much $$ for far too little time, and yours truly is still as Scotch as ever, so no go. The cafes either don't open when they should, can't get their equipment to work, or operate at hours when we're off on a bus or plane. Thus no posting until now. The problem now is that I can't seem to get the program to open my photo files. They mysteriously appear to be in an unknown file format. I'll keep trying, but I spent the first half hour today trying to get the *&^))%!!@# thing to work. So, a quick recap, with the hopes that pics can come later.

Got to LAX 4 1/2 hours early (flight at 10:30 pm) Saturday night, thinking we could get a good seat selection. Hah! They'd been checking in other tours that apparently paid more money to Qantas than did ours, as they had blocks of seats up forward. Ours were all the way in the rear. More noise, colder, bumpier, and, of course, the glamour (sp?) of being adjacent to the bathrooms. Qanta uses a seat pitch suited for amputees. I was using the reading lens of my bifocals in order to comfortably view the back-of-seat-in-front-of-you t.v. At least they had four films I hadn't seen before, some for good reason. You have to be trapped at 39,000 feet for 14 hours in order to watch "I [heart] Huckabees." Food was passable, service was "let's get it over with, ok?" The bright star in all of this was my $expensive$ investment in a pair of Sennheiser noise-canceling headphones. Those babies actually worked! The engine noise virtually disappeared, and you could turn the volume way down for comfortable listening. At half the price of the Bose, they're almost a deal. Anyway, got to Sydney at 8:00 a.m. local, only to shuffle our way to the domestic wing of Qantas for boarding our 3 hourflight to Cairns (that's CANS, mate). Zombies move quicker and more fluidly. We had pilfered some fruit from the previous flight, and Mom had brought all sorts of snacks in her luggage, none of which we thought to declare. The drug beagle was wagging furiously, and we got called over to open the cases. Fifteen minutes and some stern finger-wagging later and we avoided the $250 fine for undeclared foodstuffs. They freak out over that stuff here. Landed in Cairns to rain and leaden skies. Did I mention that this is the rainy season in the tropics? Cairns gets an average of 16.5 inches in February. I could see my snorkeling disappearing in the gloom. We met our guide, Dave, at the airport, and formed together as a group for the first time. So, 105% humidity and 85 degrees, we sweated our way on to the bus in the clothes we'd all been in for the last 35 hours or so. We stayed at Palm Cove, which is a beach resort area north of Cairns. Very nice, in the Hawaii resort style. They keep the air conditioning on full blast in order to dehumidify the rooms, a practice that we caught on to only after turning it off to avoid freezing in place. All our clothes were damp when we returned. We were drying them last night here in Melbourne. But I'm getting ahead of things. Dave, our guide is a genial big lug who hails from Providence RI. Go figure. That's where our tour operator is based. Anyway, he appeared at our first orientation meeting to be a font of misinformation, but I think that was our jetlag causing confusion. He's been doing this for 21 years, and we really benefitted (most of the time) from his advice. He turned out to be a little shaky on restaurants and pubs. Since we lost a day crossing the dateline, it was Monday when we arrived. Tuesday we set out on a high speed catamaran to go 15 miles offshore to Green Island in the Great Barrier Reef. Smooth as glass all the way out, even Loni didn't get sick. Green Island is about 30 acres or so, with a long pier for all the tour cats to dock at. Our good fortune continues in that we were informed it is the Chinese New Years and all of China is off for vacation in Australia. At least that's what it looked like. As we got off the boat, a large hole in the clouds opened up, and we had sunshine for the rest of the afternoon. That's more like it. Snorkeling was great. I took a bunch of dopey pictures of fish and coral, all of which are on a Kodak one-use underwater camera, so those will have to wait until we get back. [perhaps like the rest of my digital photos unless I can unlock them] Loni and Mom toured the Island while I snorkeled away. Oh, I forgot to mention our initial piece of luck. At noon on the Saturday we were leaving, Loni dislocated her knee. This happened once before and required a trip to the emergency room, much pain killer, and muscle relaxant injections. This time she managed to straighten her leg, push down on the knee, and there was a resounding POP as something went back into place. Very sore, very unstable, so she got out her cane from the last time this happened. I look like a Sherpa carrying all the bags while she hobbles along. It is getting better, thank goodness, but it's still painful. I'm running out of time on this computer, and have to go meet Loni and Mom, who are shopping at the Queen Victoria Market, a glorified food and flea market that covers a couple of city blocks. In our next episode, we'll catch up on the rain forest, the Army Ducks, the butterflies, and the Aborigines. Until then, this tidbit of info: Why is there no "U" in Qantas? Hmmm? Well, it got started in the 20's as Queensland And Northern Territories Air Services. Thus endeth our lesson for today. [[ actually, I'm back; just as I typed the "today," and was looking for the "send" button, the machine went blank and said I was timed out. Thought I lost the whole thing. But, with more money, I got back.]] I'd better figure out the send function, and get this off. Later.