Wanderings

The blog lives on...back here where it started (probably)

2010-09-22T07:29:00.000-07:00

These pictures were intended to frighten you off this page...

AND entice you to check out other, pictures online at my Apple-sponsored website. Alas, Apple is cutting off MobileMe, so I guess it's time to return to BlogSpot (if I can just figure out how!)

Charleston to Savannah

2010-03-17T18:33:00.000-07:00

On to Charleston, where we stayed in the "Brazil Room" of the NotSo Hostel on the edge of the historic area.

We took a stroll downtown and wandered the streets for hours--peering into walled gardens,

stolling the Battery, admiring the blooming camelias.The bright sunlight was a relief from a too-long winter.

Next up: Savannah, where we stumbled onto the nation's 2nd largest St. Patrick's Day celebration.

We checked into the ramshackle, charming (in its own way) Savannah Internationale Pensione in the middle of the week-long celebration. St Pat's Eve was the best Irish fest

we'd ever seen with streets closed, impromtu bagpipe concerts, beer stands on every block

and people filling the streets. By morning, the entire town had turned out, with tents and tables filling the squares, green water flowing from all the fountains and a wonderful throw-back parade winding through the city. St Patrick in Savannah--who knew?

Road Trip Numero Dos--to Wilmington

2010-03-15T17:58:00.000-07:00

Bill picked me up after my last day at work (most recent stint at the Postal Service). After a quick stop for dinner in Fredericksburg with Bill's mother Roberta and a nothing-worth-mentioning overnight south of Richmond, we drove to Wilmington, NC, to visit friends Liz and Lee Porter.

Great time catching up with them. On Sunday, they chartered a boat for a cruise along various of Wilmington's many waterways. Lots of birds to watch and big houses and boats to gawk at.

The weekend was too short, but we headed south on Monday morning...

Egypt!

2009-10-30T20:00:00.000-07:00

The Truly Great Pyramids

When I expect to be impressed by something, I often end up underwhelmed by the actual experience. Not so Egypt. Whatever I imagined about standing on the Giza Plateau and looking up at the pyramids was eclipsed by the reality. The sheer scale. The geometry. The vast flatness of the landscape. The dry heat radiating from blocks of stone put in place 5,000 years ago.

For a sense of scale: More than one million limestone blocks form the Great Pyramid, king Khufu’s final resting place. Some of the biggest blocks at the base weigh as much as 15 tons each. Until the 19th century, the Great Pyramid was the tallest building in the world.

Not only did we get to walk around the Great Pyramid, we got to climb inside it to the King’s Chamber, a stark airless room holding only a lidless sarcophagus but ripe with atmosphere. And then the coup de gras...we rode camels around the pyramids.

Where we've been lately

2009-08-20T08:39:00.000-07:00

With the grand roadtrip behind us, we've been wandering a little closer to home...

We strolled along the National Mall one summer evening with my brother John and his lovely ladies (after seeing the latest Night at the Museum at the museum!)

Another weekend: camping somewhere in Pennsylvania (?!) with a day trip to New Hope, where we met up with the Smiths of New Jersey, Mary and Lee. Lots of shoppes, bikers, blazing sun and cold beers.

On a beautiful Saturday in August, Bill dropped me off in Bluemont for lunch with friends in a beautiful 200-plus-year-old stone house, where we enjoyed a fantastic feast prepared by our charming hostess, Annabel.

And we're back

2009-07-27T15:12:00.000-07:00

We crossed the line back to the Old Dominion--and decided to celebrate by stopping by Blacksburg, site of Bill's undergraduate days and Matt's birth.

From there, it was on to Lynchburg and a short visit with the Jensens. Saw some of Jill's latest masterpieces and did a drive by the house that nurse Melissa plans to buy.

Naturally, we paused in Charlottesville long enough for a walk about the Grounds and a lunch at Mellow Mushroom.

A couple hours later, we made our return to Arlington--more than 11,000 miles after our start on June 3. Life on the road was good to us. What comes next...it's anyone's guess.

Smoky Mountains

2009-07-22T11:03:00.000-07:00

We made the mistake of trying to drive to Gatlinburg, TN, on a summer weekend. There was a backup 20 miles out of town. So we skirted the town and found a back way into Great Smoky Mountain National Park.

By that time, all the campsites had been claimed, so we spent the night in overrun Gatlinburg. The next day we decided to take a hike and then cross the park to North Carolina to find the cabin that my aunt has rented for the summer.

We found a nice short but steep hike up to the peak of Clingman's Dome (supposedly the highest point on

the Appalachian Trail). Lots of clouds passing by, but still a pretty 360-degree view of the surrounding peaks.

We stopped long enough in the Cherokee reservation on the other side of the park for a couple games of Skee-ball and mini-basketball.

During a nice couple days with our pal (and aunt) Ann Garnjost, we took another hike--and saw another bear! And we spent a half-day rafting down a local river with our old friend

Ann Craven and her brother and his wife.

What struck us as odd was the green of everything around us. After all the brown landscapes of the west, it was fun to look around at all the lush greenery we take for granted.

Opry-time

2009-07-19T18:58:00.000-07:00

So, we left Elvis and Memphis behind--and headed straight for Nashville. We pulled into town just in time to buy tickets for the Grand Ole Opry.

And it was grand. Two solid hours of entertainment. Each half-hour has a host, who does a bit of stand-up and a bit of singing, along with introducing the other acts.

Highlights for us: The G.O.O. debut of a 13-year-old we had marveled at a year ago at the Round Hill Bluegrass Jam. And, of course, the stylings of Mr. Roy Clark. (Life hasn't been the same since HeeHaw went off the air....)

What a night. What a place. There seemed no point in seeing anything else in Nashville--so we set out sights on the Smoky Mountains.

An added treat: on our way out of town we saw the "General Lee" pull out of Cooter's Dukes of Hazzard Museum!

Elvis!

2009-07-16T13:50:00.000-07:00

Needing to be as close to Graceland as possible, we checked into a cabin at the Graceland RV Campground after finding out that the Heartbreak Hotel was 100% booked.

A pink Cadillac picked us up for dinner at Marlowe's ("Home to Elvis Fans Around the World"). Marlowe's, with all its Elvis pictures and Elvis tchotchkes, just heightened our anticipation.

Graceland didn't disappoint. It's a time capsule, for one. It's imbued with the Elvis vibe, for another. Not to mention that we met a woman on the way in who had met Elvis!

What did we love the most? Jody wanted to spend a little more time in the Jungle Room. (We all need more monkey statuettes, right?) Bill loved Elvis's well-appointed airplanes. On our Platinum Tour, we actually got to walk through them! (Who in the world wouldn't appreciate a gold-plated sink?!)

When the Graceland tour was over (much too soon!), we spent a little time on Memphis's Beale Street, basking in the glow of all things Elvis.

For more pictures of Graceland, see http://web.me.com/jody.brady !

We get a lot of miles out of the way

2009-07-15T12:50:00.000-07:00

After the Grand Canyon, we realized it was time to cover a little ground. We stopped in the Painted Dessert and gazed out at a few scenic overlooks. Then we zoomed over to Albuquerque and had a nice evening stroll around the Old Town.

The next day we took a detour onto Route 66 around Tucumcari, NM, to see some of its curio shops--may of which, sadly have closed. But not the Tepee Shop!

Then we took a detour near Amarillo to see a pair of giant legs in a field.

After another day of driving, we spent the night just east of Oklahoma City. We didn't see anything there but the hotel and the guy who delivered our pizza to the room.

The grandest of the canyons

2009-07-14T14:51:00.000-07:00

Zion and Bryce are two pretty darn impressive canyons. It was good to see them first, though, because the scale of the Grand Canyon eclipses other landscapes.

One mile deep, more than 250 miles long and up to 18 miles wide, the canyon was created by the Colorado River. That's hard to believe when you look out from one overview after another and can't see the tiniest patch of river. (But, eventually, on the western end of the park we did see sections of the distant Colorado.)

We wanted to hike into the canyon on our second day, but we were warned that the temperature was likely to climb over 100 degrees by 9 in the morning. So, we got up at five and took the shuttle to the South Kaibab Trailhead. We shared the trail with a handful of other early risers, walking 1000 feet down the canyon on the first

mile-and-a-half of the trail, one of two trails that descend into the canyon on the South Rim.

As beautiful as the canyon is from all the many overviews, it was more impressive with each step down. We're going to have to come back and make the trip all the way to the river. (Bill thinks riding a mule back up would be a good idea--but says it would have to be "one big mule.")

Hoodoos!

2009-07-12T07:11:00.000-07:00

Ever since Kelly and Dan showed us pictures from their 2005 cross-country trip, we've wanted to see the hoodoos of Bryce Canyon. They didn't disappoint.

Thousands of years of erosion are responsible for the improbable shapes of these tall, thin spires of stone. The hoodoos are works of art in progress, changing all the time--just very slowly.

When we were trying to decide where to hike, we couldn't resist the trail advertised in the park brochure as "The Best 3-Mile Trail in the World."

It was pretty good. (Bill says 2/3 of it was pretty darn great; he just didn't care for the final 1/3 of the trail that was straight uphill to climb back to the rim.)

Polygamy Porter and a mile-long tunnel

2009-07-11T16:01:00.000-07:00

After pulling into Zion National Park, we stopped by the camp store to stock up on all the essentials: firewood, ice and, yes, you guessed it, beer. We went with the local brew, whose label and tagline ("Why have just one?") inspired us. Welcome to Utah!

The soaring sandstone cliffs of the park stand guard over a ribbon of green, where the Virgin River (really!) winds its way through the canyon. The Zion campground may be the loveliest we've seen yet. After hiking, we sat in our camp chairs and stared out onto the walls of the canyon.

On our way out of the park, we wound our way east on a road with more switchbacks and tunnels (including that miler) than I can remember on any other road we've seen.

From the City of Angels to Sin City

2009-07-10T14:10:00.000-07:00

On another sunny California day, we lingered along the coast, stopping in Morro Bay and Santa Barbara before arriving in Marina del Rey, where we visited with Bill's brother Pat and his son Ryan--who was also in town for a visit.

The next day we got to catch up with old friends.

We had lunch in Pasadena with Esme and Bob Gibson, who I met on the Queen Mary II cruise earlier this year. After lunch, Esme took us to the Huntington Gardens, where we toured the new Chinese Garden and enjoyed strolling together through other parts of the grounds.

Then back across L.A. to Redondo Beach, where we rented bikes and rode along the shore before meeting Erika Berglund, a friend from high school, for dinner. What a fun night catching up with her.

We decided it was time to turn east, so we set our

sights on Las Vegas. We spent the evening wandering the strip to see its recreations of Venice, Paris, New York and more. (Who needs to travel any further than L.V.?) The Kitty Glitter slot machine was kind to us and we walked away with cash in our hands.

Just a quick glimpse of Hoover Dam this morning, and we're heading for Zion National Park.

San Fran to Big Sur

2009-07-06T13:25:00.000-07:00

After the natural highs of Yosemite, we both suffered from a little city shock our first day in San Francisco. But that didn't stop us from finding the ballpark to watch the Giants thump the Astros 13-0. (Well, we watched all the runs, which happened in 4 innings and then

we left to get WARM.)

The next day, we checked off the SF cliches: ride a cable car, drive down the loopy section of Lombard St., eat sourdough bread, stroll through Chinatown. All good, but the best part of our quick trip through San Francisco: riding bikes across the Golden Gate Bridge and into sunny Sausalito, with a return trip on the ferry.

We drove the coast after San Francisco, and stopped to sit on the beach in pretty Santa Cruz. Then we wasted time and

money getting suckered into driving the 17-mile Road between Monterey and Carmel. (Don't do it! Rich people get you to pay to drive on their roads and see ho-hum coastal views.)

But the day ended wonderfully. We loved the drive along the Big Sur coast on US 1, and then we found a campground overlooking the ocean. Nice people to talk to there, plus a killer sunset.

We see a bear!

2009-07-02T00:16:00.000-07:00

Okay, so we saw bears at Bear Country U.S.A. But it wasn't until we went hiking in Yosemite National Park that we saw our first bear in the wild. The little cub was scared up a tree by a dog, and he eventually got the courage to scamper off into the woods.

Our views of Yosemite's famed cliffs were a bit obscured by all the smoke in the air from the ongoing "managed fires." (The fires that the Park Service sets and monitors in order to manage the park "more naturally," as the rangers explained.)

But that didn't stop us from enjoying our stroll through a giant sequoia grove, our walk to see Half Dome or or our rock scramble at the Lower Falls.

Two days were not enough. We vow to return!

The bluest blue

2009-07-01T14:47:00.000-07:00

As soon as Crater Lake came into sight, every car including ours veered for the first pull-off. The water is such an incredible shade of blue that it takes your breath away just to look at it.

The reason for the deep blue color is the depth of the lake, site of a long-ago collapsed volcano. At more than 1900 feet deep, the lake is not only the country's deepest but one of the deepest in the world.

The road around the lake was only partially open, with the park still recovering from winter. We saw more snow and survived more cold June nights with the help of campfires and coffee.

After one last hike, we headed south and crossed the state line--on to California.

Almost to the Pacific!

2009-06-27T15:08:00.000-07:00

After our last night in Glacier National Park, we aimed the car for the northwest corner of the country. Two days later, we were in Seattle--just in time to NOT see a baseball game. Yet another team out of town when we show up.

We got to catch up with an old high school friend of Jody’s, Greg Bartholomew, and his partner Rick. And, by coincidence, we also caught up with Jody’s Aunt Ann, who had flown to Seattle for a wedding.

Still plenty of time to wander the streets, zoom up the Space Needle, ride the monorail and eat lunch on a Puget Sound ferry.

Then on to Portland. After being greeted by Mr. Paul Bunyon, we proceeded to the city’s much-touted gardens to see if Portland deserves it’s nickname, City of Roses. It does.

Before leaving town, we listened to music in Pioneer Square, sampled some local microbrews and wandered the aisles of Powell’s Books. Bill seemed inclined to settle down for good in Portland. We had perfect weather in a pretty town--who could blame him?

Want to see more pictures? We're putting them online at http://web.me.com/jody.brady

They're not all gone yet

2009-06-24T22:17:00.000-07:00

June 22-24. The glaciers are shrinking, but there are still
a few to be seen in Glacier National Park.

We had to explore the park from the east and then from the west side -- because winter damage on the one roadway that runs across the park still hasn't been repaired along the highest stretch.

Both sides were beautiful. Mountains, lakes, waterfalls and rushing creeks everywhere. On the east side, we took a boat ride on Two Medicine Lake and went up to the Jackson Glacier overlook.

On the west end, we spent a night inside the park, in a cabin complete with a picture window looking out on a teal-colored creek. (Much of the water here is teal -- very pretty.)

The next day, we drove high into the peaks on the Going to the Sun roadway (as far as they would let us!) and enjoyed the snow as well as the amazing views.

After a hike to Avalanche Lake and a boat ride on Lake MacDonald, we returned to the road to head toward Seattle.

(Note: I'm working now on setting up a website, where I'll have more pictures: http://web.me.com/jody.brady/Wanderings/Welcome.html. Still very much a work in progress!)

Where the buffalo roam

2009-06-19T22:12:00.000-07:00

June 19-21. After almost 500 miles of driving, we were ready to find a campsite and call it a night. But Yellowstone was full up. So it wasn't until the next day in the area that we pitched our tent in the park -- just in time for the rain to welcome us with a downpour.

Day one we headed south to see a collection of geysers

and "paint pots." All the boiling water and steam made us eerily aware of of the magma hot spot sitting below the ground we walked on.

We loved the show put on by Old Faithful, the star of Yellowstone's many geysers. So, we waited around another 90 minutes to see it erupt a second time.

Day two we explored the Grand Canyon of Yellowstone. Waterfalls everywhere, plus massive rock walls showing off the yellow stone that gives the river and park their name.

Tons of wildlife sightings in the park. Elk, mule deer, moose, osprey and buffalo among the crowd. Our favorite buffalo was the one

who left us a massive “present” in the middle of the night, just a few feet away from our tent.

On to the other side of South Dakota

2009-06-18T22:29:00.000-07:00

June 17-18. We drove across South Dakota to reach the Black Hills region. We knew we were there when greeted by some of the local population. If the prairie dog isn't the official state animal of South Dakota, it should be.

After visiting with the prairie dogs, it was time to enter Badlands National Park. The landscape goes from prairie to otherworldly all at once.

The striped spires of the Badlands were created by erosion over

hundreds of thousands of year. We hiked around a bit and climbed a bit--and did a lot of gazing out at the seemingly

endless peaks and valleys.

We spent the night in the Cedar Pass campground, but didn't put up the tent because the sky looked so ominous. So, it was our first night of car camping, and all the windows made it easy to see the spectacular show put on by all the lightening.

After driving the rest of the Badlands loop, we headed for the hills--the Black Hills. So close to the Badlands, but it's hard to believe when you're looking out on the dark green, pine-covered mountains. First stop: Mount Rushmore!

We gawked at the mountain's gigantic heads from the official viewing terrace, then walked the Presidential Trail for a slightly closer look from the base of the mountain. The heads are 60 feet from forehead to chin, with 20-foot noses. The story of how they blasted and jackhammered the figures into existence is incredible.

We couldn't leave the Black Hills without visiting Bear Country U.S.A. (after hearing rave reviews from Dan and Kelly!)

The longhorn sheep, buffalo, mountain lions and elk are all quite wonderful to see, but it is indeed the bears that steal the show. While many of the black bears are lazing about in the grass, a good number of them walk right up to or in front of the cars passing through. Don't even get me started about how cute the baby bears are!

With another storm brewing, we spent the night in Rapid City. Most interesting thing about the city to me is the program that's placing life-size figures of all the presidents on corners around the city. Bill liked his pal Bert Hoover the best; I liked good ole Thomas Jefferson.

Hoover-ville to the Corn Palace

2009-06-17T18:36:00.000-07:00

It was a little rainy as we hit the road, but that didn't stop us from enjoying the Herbert Hoover Birthplace Site!!!

We watched a movie about "Bertie's" early years, then walked

through the tiny cabin where he was born. By the time

we visited his gravesite, we had been fully indoctrinated. We are convinced that our much-maligned 31st prez deserves a better rep.

Down the road 450 miles, we arrived in Sioux Falls in time to hear tornado warnings. But the storm veared away, and we enjoyed an evening strolling through the historic downtown and climing the observation tower for a good view of the Great Sioux River's falls. Note to anyone traveling through Sioux Falls: Monk's House of Ale Repute had great beer and eats.

This morning we'd only gotten an hour out of town when Bill saw a sign for "The World's Only Corn Palace." Who could resist? Not us. They're still working on this year's design, but much of the a-maize-ing work of art is in place on the exterior of the crowning glory of Mitchell, SD.

From Notre Dame to Quad City

2009-06-16T21:00:00.000-07:00

June 14-16. Maybe South Bend never stood a chance; sunny, fun Cleveland may have set us up for disappointment. Still, we hoped to be charmed by the hometown of Notre Dame--but we weren't. The town was dead on an overcast Sunday evening.

We did get to see the highlights of the school: the pretty Basilica, the gold dome of the main building "Touchdown Jesus."

Heading towards Chicago the next morning, Bill saw a sign for Indiana Dunes National

Seashore.

We pulled off the highway and had a great time climbing Mt. Baldy, the highest "live" dune on the coast of Lake Michigan (according to the

brochure we picked up at the visitors' center). We walked

along the shoreline, testing the water (freezing!) and staring out on the big blue expanse of the lake.

An hour later, we lucked out and found a parking space in downtown Chicago.

After walking around a bit, we boarded a tour boat for a ride along the downtown river. The guide clued us in on the stories behind all the buildings we glided past. (Scandals! Architectural firsts! Highest! Etc.)

We thought about lingering in Chicago for game at Wrigley Field , but the Cubs weren't playing for a couple days (and we later found out the game was rained out). It was hard to leave Chicago so quickly, but we still have a lot of country to see.

Lots of driving in the rain across Illinois. A stopover to sleep in the "Quad City" area (half Illinois, half Iowa)--but we didn't bother going any further than the Old Chicago pizza palace across the parking lot.

Cleveland rocks!

2009-06-16T12:55:00.000-07:00

July 13-14. Pulling into Cleveland on a beautiful, sunny day (after a string of overcast, rainy days), we learned that the Indians were about to take the field a 10-minute walk from our hotel. Though the home team lost, we spent a wonderful afternoon in the ballpark and a great evening on the patio of a bar around the corner. ($5 pitchers of Bud!)

The next day, we walked 10 minutes in the other direction to tour the

Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame. Everyone should see Jim Morrison's Cub Scout uniform, Jeff Beck's guitar, Jimi Hendrix's

rough draft of Purple Haze and Neil Young's fringe jacket. Lots of good tunes playing all the while. And then there's the two-floor exhibit on The Boss.

We strolled around the Lake Erie waterfront before reluctantly heading out of town.

Water works

2009-06-16T12:11:00.000-07:00

July 12-13. Listening to podcasts helped pass the five-hour drive to Niagra. We didn't waste any time at our "charming" motel and headed straight for the Falls.

We watched as the sea of water rushed to the precipice and tumbled down, sending a cloud of mist that rose higher than the land we stood on. People of all ages stood beside us, like us, staring at the water.

We walked around long enough to see the lights come on, illuminating the falls with a rainbow of colors. Sounds a little cheesy, but somehow it works.

In the morning, we bought our tickets for the Maid of the Mist and donned our blue plastic ponchos. We went close enough to the base of the falls to be awed by the scale and showered by the mist.

Next stop: Cleveland.

Family time, plus a flume

2009-06-14T20:23:00.000-07:00

July 7-12. After leaving the Cape, we stopped for a picnic lunch in Miles Standish State Park near Plymouth, where Bill's mom and her family spent many summer vacations. We could see why--a pretty pond for swimming and shady spots for eating.

On to visits with Bill's aunts and uncles, plus cousins and

their spouses--the Kelleher

family in Woburn, MA, and the Whittakers in North Grafton, MA.

Then Bill pointed our trusty

Prius north to New Hampshire. En route to checking on my aunt's house in Lancaster, NH, we stopped for some hiking in Franconia Notch State Park, where we walked the trails alongside "The Flume," a long, narrow channel of water cutting down the side of a mountain.

After clearing out a few closets and cleaning up the the garage, we took some time to admire the wonderful view of the White mountains.

Then through Vermont and on to Chateaugay, NY, for a visit with my sister Jane and her husband Paul.

A Cape wedding

2009-06-12T19:53:00.000-07:00

June 4-7. After stop in Connecticut for Mystic Pizza and a long, slow drive past Providence, we pulled into South Yarmouth in the rain.

More rain the next morning, but that didn't stop us from seeing the sights--on foot and in the car.

Friday night, we met up with the wedding party for a pre-celebration with Kevin and Ericka.

Saturday started out cloudy, but the sun came out in time for a beautiful ceremony at the Wychmere Harbour Club in Harwich Port. None other than Matt Brady pronounced Kevin and Ericka "man and wife."

We went on to toast the bride and groom well into the night.

The road trip begins

2009-06-12T19:33:00.000-07:00

June 3. We loaded up the Prius, said goodbye to Max and left Arlington behind us. First stop: Philadelphia.

Matt, Kelly and Dan (not to mention Jess and

Jaron) helped us kick off the road trip with dinner at Colonial Pizza just down the street from the

Smiths' new digs.

Before heading out of town, we stopped at the U.S. Mint (They have no gold at the U.S. Mint; Bill suspects a conspiracy....)

Next stop: Cape Cod

One last beach

2009-04-29T13:33:00.000-07:00

We headed back to the Pacific side of the country in search of a nice quiet beach to spend a couple days. Once we found Santa Clara, we stayed as long as we could.

Beautiful sand stretches along the turquoise water for what seems miles in both directions.

The weekend scene was fun...Old men renting out their horses, the ¨hat lady¨ hawking her wares, grade school jewelry vendors convincing me I needed yet another rope bracelet, families splashing in the gentle waves....and more of that cheap, cold beer.

Then we had a couple quiet days where we shared the beach with a handful of other people. It was hard to leave Las Veraneras, our cabana just off the beach.

Now we´re back in Panama City for one more night before flying back to the States tomorrow. It´s been an amazing trip.

Road trip

2009-04-24T20:44:00.000-07:00

No more crowding into overpacked school buses for us! It took us two days and two trips to the Thrifty desk (three if you include the time we walked out and down the street while counting to 10), but we finally succeeded in renting a car.

We drove north to Portobelo--the ¨beautiful port¨ so named by none other than Christopher Columbus. Our guide book says it´s an easy 2-hour drive from Panama City. But between the lack of pavement, the killer potholes, the speeding trucks and the pouring rain, it took us 3 1-2 hours.

The rain slowed once we were off the road, of course. After checking into the Coco Plum Eco Resort (not sure what makes it either ¨eco¨ or a ¨resort¨), we wandered through the small, homely modern-day town of Portobelo and the cool old fort that once guarded the gold awaiting shipment to Spain.

We went for a drive as far as the road would take us--and saw yachts moored out in the bay and beautiful green, green countryside (part forest, part cattle ranches).

Next day, we decided to drive and see the Caribbean end of the canal. Stopped in at the Gatun Locks and stared at the giant ships squeezing through.

A swinging bridge occasionally lets traffic cross over the canal. We waited our turn and drove north and west to the old Spanish fort of San Lorenzo.

What´s left of the fort gave us an idea of the immense scale of the place in its heyday before the pirates burned and looted it en route to laying siege to Portobelo and, eventually, Panama City.

Back on the road, we headed west to the rainforest of Sierra Llorono (which sort of means ¨crybaby mountain¨). Although there were NO road signs, after a couple false starts we guessed our way up to a lodge up in the mountains.

A quiet, pretty place to stay. But best of all was the almost 3-hour walk with a naturalist in the morning. I understood most of what he had to say about the resident frogs, insects, birds and plants, I think, as he led us up and down the mountain on narrow trails that he groomed as we walked. (Machetes come in very handy here. )

Back down in the area of Panama City again, we have a few days before our flight home. Still working out where our wandering takes us next.

A patch of Pacific

2009-04-21T18:42:00.000-07:00

Just flew back today from Isla Contadora, a beautiful island that´s just 20 minutes by plane from the big city. We had a few days to swim and walk the beaches...and explore just about every road on the island in our handy golf cart.

We were among what seemed just a handful of tourists staying on the island. Most of the prime real estate is claimed by $million-plus homes of Panama´s richest families.

Bill and I began to suspect that the millionaires are conspiring to put the hotels out of business. The biggest among the hotels has already gone under and everyone on the island, plus all surrounding islands were busy picking the bones--hauling off furniture, wiring, tiles, decor, etc. Naturally, we joined them.

When not in our golf cart scavenging at gone-bust hotels, we snorkeled (not great stuff to see, but great water to swim in), walked around a bit and dined at least half the restaurants in town (though that´s not saying much). The whole island is just one square mile with the tiny airstrip running the width of it.

All was great at Isla Contadora until the people at our hotel decided to charge us more than they told us over the phone. Oh, well...it happens.

Looking to rent a car now and do a little exploring in central Panama where the buses don´t run.

Sailing through San Blas

2009-04-20T18:52:00.001-07:00

San Blas, according to the Spanish. Kuna Yala, according to the indigenous population now back in charge. Gorgeous undeveloped islands, whatever you call them.

We found out about a sailboat heading out on a four-day spin around the islands, and we made our way (two flights--one back to P City and then one the next day out to Kuna Yala--Bill had had it with tiny, crowded buses!) to the almost non-existent town of Carti to catch a water taxi out to the sail boat.

Dave Waller is an ace sailor and a master storyteller. For four days he kept his six-person crew a captive, happy audience. What hasn´t the man done or seen?

The islands are tiny spits of sand and palm trees. We were warned repeatedly not to touch a coconut. The Kuna residents still make a good deal of their living selling coconuts to Columbian freighters.

We helped with the sails and the steering, the cooking and the cleaning. Bill and I lucked out with the people who shared our sail--Jenny and Martin from Vancouver and Emily and Sarah from New York.

Highlights: hours spent snorkeling. And, of course, the time we spent buying molas from Lisa, one of the Kunas most famous and beloved transvestites.

Back in Carti, we all shared a long, rough, bumpy jeep ride (including a river crossing--through the water) back to Panama City.

Keeping cool in Boquete

2009-04-20T18:25:00.000-07:00

After enjoying the cool mountain temps of Fortuna, we accepted a ride to another mountain locale--the town of Boquete. We were fortunate enough to get offered a ride there with a couple we met at the Lost and Found hostel.

We spent much of the day, enjoying the company of Jennifer and Tom as we slowly wound our way to Boquete. The slowest patch was thanks to a Good Friday procession that blocked the road in a town we needed to pass through. Who´s in a hurry? We got to Boquete in time to join in their Good Friday procession.

Our first full day in Boquete, Bill and I rented a motor scooter and we challenged it climbing the nearby slopes. Saw farms on precipitous slopes, a beautiful waterfall, odd rock formations and strawberry stores. Also, the orchid fest at the fair grounds just across the river from our hostel. Who knew that the orchid fest-ers love to party through the night on Holy Saturday?

On Easter, we went on a three-hour hike in the mountains with a nature guide who showed us all the plants with medicinal applications and all the plants that will kill you. Also sloths, butterflies and birds. None as exciting as the beautiful, elusive, famed quetzal.

Lost and Found in the Cloud Forest

2009-04-19T09:30:00.000-07:00

After we left the baking sun of Gandoca Beach, we were ready for what promised to be a cooler destination...Panama´s only eco lodge located in the middle of a cloud forest.

We took a taxi ride, another stroll across the ¨lovely Sixaola¨ bridge, a ride in a van to Almirante and a bus ride on the one road south, before we had the driver drop us off beside the three yellow boulders that mark the end of the trail leading up, up, up to the Lost and Found Eco Lodge in the Fortuna Reserve.

We climbed up the side of the mountain with our stuffed packs and were more than ready for the welcome beer at the top. Lost and Found is still a work in progress, the creation of two friends, Andrew and Patrick who have nestled their hostel in the middle of the forest with minimal impact.

Bill and I spent a day as guests, and we hiked up to the top of the mountain for a fantastic view of the surrounding peaks. Then, the next day, we rolled up our sleeves to volunteer. Bill spent the next four days or so constructing all sorts of things out of scrap wood. He made several flower boxes with another volunteer, Carla, and then put up a railing for a stairwell where two people had already taken a tumble.

I got to dig in the dirt. I harvested plants from the forest and filled the boxes that Bill and Carla made. I turned an old stove into a planter and filled it with moss and bromeliads plucked from the trees. Got a great aerobic workout every day I was there, since everything...the plants, the moss, even the bathrooms and showers...all require a steep hike up or down to reach.

The guys were particularly happy to put us on the ¨beautification committee¨ because they had a film crew coming through to shoot a segment for a travel show. We loved working alongside all the gang of friendly, young volunteers on site at the same time.

After a week, we were lucky enough to hitch a ride with a couple leaving the hostel and driving to Boquete, a town in a relatively nearby valley that we wanted to visit.

Tortuga Time

2009-04-12T15:17:00.000-07:00

Finally back somewhere with phones and Internet!

When I left off, we were heading off to cross the border to Costa Rica. After a boat ride to Almirante and an hour-long taxi ride we were dropped off at the border. All we had to do was walk across the long, high bridge spanning the Sixaola River. Loose boards cover the old rail tracks and crossing means dodging the semis also making the crossing.

Lucky us, we got to cross the bridge three times that morning...because we neglected to get Panamanian exit stamps on our first try. Finally we were official. We celebrated with...what else...a nice cheap beer in a dark, dingy bar. The friendly owner called a taxi for us and after a bumpy ride, which included crossing an even more questionable bridge, we arrived in Gandoca.

We stayed with Maria and her family. A bare bones room with only a bed--but we did have a fan and a toilet and cold shower right across the hall. Maria overfed us--three meals a day. Lunch and dinner always included beans and rice!

The reason to be there: nesting season for the massive leatherback sea turtles. We helped with beach cleanings and hatchery preparation each hot, sweltering afternoon, then walked the beach for either the 8=midnight shift or the midnight-4 shift. When we drew the section of the beach farther away, it meant about 7 miles of trudging up and down the beach in the darkness.

We all wore black, walking in a single line behind the leader. Suddenly, the leader would stop. If the moon was up we could see what looks like monster truck tire tracks and, up the beach, a boulder-sized turtle. Walking up right next to the turtles--all six feet of them--was amazing enough.

But we were relocating most of the eggs to protect them. So, that means reaching under the turtle into the hole that she's dug and holding a bag as she lays 70-100 eggs. It's up close and personal work. You have your arms under her flippers and feel as she pushes the eggs out. As soon as she begins laying smaller, unfertile eggs, you need to quickly snatch the hefty bag out from under her before she shovels sand over it.

Incredible stuff.

The program has shown results. Ten years ago they estimated that 100% of the eggs laid on Gandoca Beach were poached. Today, 90% of the eggs they know have been laid successfully hatch.

Time to give someone else the computer....next up...our stint in a remote eco-lodge back in Panama.

Hasta luego, Bocas

2009-03-28T19:18:00.000-07:00

Thursday: our second day of scuba diving. To our delight, so many more fish made an appearance than did on our first day of diving. We gawked at big, striped groupers, bright blue tangs, yellow rays and the aptly named toad and lizard fish-- among the menagerie at two dive sites, "The Airport" and "Barco Hundido" (aka "The Wreck," a former ferry).

Back in town, we stopped for pizza at Wari Wari--an Afro-Caribbean restaurant that specializes in Italian food. Go figure.

Friday: At least one of us is sorry to come to the end of Spanish class. But we could console ourselves with a return trip to the serene, turquoise-colored waters of Carenero beach. It might have been the beers we enjoyed at the Pickled Parrot, but I would swear I'm an amazing swimmer after an afternoon splashing around the water here.

Dinner here at the house...our own impressive concoction of black beans and rice.

Saturday: An unfriendly (sort-of creepy) woman makes her living not cleaning this house/school. In just two weeks we have had ample opportunity to wonder just what it is she gets paid for.

This we know: she spends about a half hour soaking the bathroom countertop with bleach. Anything that touches it dies (including my formerly blue shirt, which I foolishly placed momentarily on the countertop post-cleaning).

All this is a lead into...time for us to leave Bocas. The cleaning lady who has up to this point pretended that she neither sees nor hears us as she does not clean the house, turned to me this morning and asked with clear disgust, "Are you still here?"

The good news about this exchange is that she asked me this question in Spanish and not only did I understand it, I was able to apologize for our continued presence, also in espanol. So the diligence of our Spanish teacher, Cecelia, has not all been in vain.

Since we have been advised that it is time that we move on, we thought we should see the nearby town of Old Bank before we go. We caught a water taxi over to Bastimento island to sort of see the first-annual Bastimento boat races.

While trying to figure out who was racing and where, we read the local paper, which lead us to hike across the island and up a steep incline to find the new Thai restaurant that has opened in the middle of the forest in the middle of Bastimento.

It was worth the journey. Great view, great conversation and, for Bill, great food. (When the chef of the house refused to make vegetarian pad thai I decided that I was okay with not eating, since I wasn't hungry anyway and we had only decided to eat there because we'd hiked so far to find the only Thai restaurant on Bastimento.)

After our boat trip back to Bocas, we've worked on fascinating things like cleaning our clothes and packing.

Tomorrow we get to see if the sketchy information that we've gotten is good enough to get us off this island, to the mainland and the border, into Costa Rica ("just don't look down," when we cross the bridge into CR, we've been told) and on to the AMSAI station on Gandoca beach, where we hope the sea turtles await us.

Island hopping

2009-03-23T19:27:00.000-07:00

Bocas del Toro, where we're staying, is a town on the tip of an island, Isla Colon. Just around the corner and a short walk down the street, we have a beach. We find it quite charming, but everyone here apologizes for the local beach and tells us which other beaches we should visit.

So, on Saturday we set out to find the bus that goes to the north end of this island to Boca del Drago, a beach about which the woman across the street waxes poetic.

But, apparently, the bus wasn't running, so we negotiated with a taxi driver to take us there and then pick us up a few hours later. After forty minutes of bumping along a road that is sometimes paved, but more often not, we arrived at Bocas del Drago.

We had been instructed to pass the one and only restaurant on this end of the island and then walk to the left to find the part of the beach where the starfish live. The farther we walked, the more beautiful the beach. Finally, we found the starfish and spent a good hour gawking at them. The water is shallow and clear, so it's easy to see them.

Then, yesterday we headed off to the favorite beach of our Spanish teacher. Red Frog Beach is on a neighboring island, Bastamento.

The beach is on the far side of the island, but the water taxis don't go that far. Instead, they drop you off at a dock across the island from the beach, and you walk through a rain forest to reach the beach. The path is well tended, so it's an easy, beautiful walk.

Red Frog Beach has warm water and nice waves. We spent a lot of time in the water there, bobbing about.

On our way back across the island, two enterprising young boys stopped us to ask if we wanted to see the red frogs, which give the beach its name. They showed us the frogs, which they held in large leaves (they're quite poisonous), then sweetly asked if we wanted to give them any money. (Which we quite willingly did!)

Another beautiful beach lies on another neighboring island, Isla Solarte. We saw snorkelers and sunbathers there, but didn't join them.

Instead, we went scuba diving along a wall of coral just off the beach in an area called Hospital Point (named, we've been told, in honor of the hospital on the island where typhoid and malaria patients used to be quarantined before doctors knew that mosquitoes passed along the diseases to people.)

We also got to dive at another nearby site, Mangrove Point. I'm afraid that we were spoiled by learning to dive in Belize, so were a bit jaded about these sites. That said, we both loved the time underwater seeing purple and yellow coral and impossibly long, thin trumpet fish. Plus, spider-like crabs, spiny lobsters, etc.

Tomorrow, we hope to hop back over to the closest island, Isla Carenero. On our last visit, we enjoyed walking through the village, where we watched as a man worked on crafting a dugout canoe (still much in use in these parts).

But now we know where to find the beach. We have been instructed to ask the "capitan" of the boat we hire to take us to "el muelle de Peter" (Peter's dock) and then walk around the bend to the left. We'll see what we find there.

La vida en Bocas del Toro

2009-03-17T18:01:00.000-07:00

We flew to the little town of Bocas del Toro on the 15th. The airstrip looks about the length of a football field, but it was long enough for our little plane. (Full disclosure: These aren't my pictures; I scoured the net because I haven't figured out how to upload pix from our camera.)

Bocas is in the NW corner of Panama. The town is on one of the islands near the border with Costa Rica. The flight took just about an hour--driving would have been 8-9 hours, plus a ferry ride!

We're here to take Spanish lessons and do some scuba and snorkeling--but we've yet to begin our aqua adventures. So far, we've only waded in the water. But we have begun those Spanish lessons--and we're both overwhelmed with what they expect us to do and learn. (Haven't they noticed that we're old?!)

School is rather informal. There are so few students that we're both being taught one-on-one. We're also the only people staying at the school this week--so we're the only people who noticed the hot water isn't working and the only people who noticed that the stove ran out of gas in the middle of cooking dinner tonight.

But, lucky for us, we can get around town easily--thanks to the ridiculously dirty, falling-apart bikes that we rented. We return several times a day to the bike shop to ask them to repair something (flat tires, no brakes, wobbly handlebars). They're quite friendly, so it's no problem dropping in all the time.

The town is on the isthmus of Isla Colon, so there's water all around us. We've been only to the two closest beaches, which we hear are the least beautiful beaches in the area. Consequently, we plan to trek further on our bikes--and to take a water taxi to hot spots we've heard of like Red Frog Beach!

We arrive in Panama

2009-03-14T17:59:00.000-07:00

After an easy flight and a half hour cab ride we arrived at Casa de Carmen, a hostel in a neighborhood on the edge of downtown Panama City. Our room was spartan (the bed filled most of it), but the green, airy courtyard was the place to sit and savor our $1 beers.

We'd only been able to reserve the room for a night, so we headed off on foot to find a place for Saturday. In Congrejo, we stopped at several places before finding a room at the Hotel Las Vegas! No slots here...but next door at the casino there are plenty. We ate dinner in the pretty courtyard behind the hotel. Then a walk back to the hostel, where we happily turned in early. (One of us had been up till 3 a.m. the night before doing all the things--like packing--that she had meant to do in a timely fashion.)

Before it got too hot, we set off with our grossly over-packed backpacks and hoofed it to our new digs. (Note to self: Travel light, travel light, travel light.) We caught a cab out front and told him we wanted to go to the old city but he told us we were making a mistake. We should go up to Miraflores and see the canal in the morning, when ships were going through. So, Miraflores it was.

What a good call. There are two locks at Miraflores that together raise massive container ships from sea level up 54 feet (I think) to the level of the inland waterway. We arrived in time to watch one ship moving through the end of a lock and two more make their way. Tiny rail tugs pull them through a passage that's hardly wider than the ships.

Then down to the Pacific end of the canal, across the 2-mile causeway that links the mainland to three islands. We had lunch on Isla Flamenco, the southernmost of the three islands, looking back at all the highrises of Panama City. We walked back along the causeway until the sun did us in--so we hopped in another taxi and made our way to Casca Viejo, or "Old Shell."

This old section of the city is currently being brought back to life. The decaying colonial buildings are a nice respite from the high rises of downtown. To our delight, we ran across someone we knew--Corinne Whiting from our old Annandale neighborhood.

This evening we walked down to what is supposed to be a beautiful path along the bay--but it's all being redone--and orange plastic fences kept us far from the water and anything remotely scenic. So, we had to go and gamble away a couple bucks (you can bet as little as a penny) at the casino and drink a couple beers at the brew pub.

Don't know when I'll find free Internet again....but hope to write soon about Bocas de Toro, where we fly to tomorrow.

Last days at sea

2009-02-09T23:08:00.000-08:00

Suddenly, the trip comes to an end.

We've already said fond farewells to our butler, Cyrill, and steward, Joseph. They’ve spoiled us with attentive service—anything we wanted, anytime we wanted it.

This morning, we had our last breakfast in the room. We spent the rest of the morning finishing the books we were reading so that we could return them to the ship’s library and its 8000-volume inventory. A friendly reminder from the librarian spurred us on.

Then we had to pack, getting our suitcases ready to be picked up tonight. Mine has been stuffed to the point of bursting, I’m afraid.

We’ve gotten to know this ship well. We toured the bridge the other day at the invitation of the commodore (thanks to a letter that Ann wrote, telling him about all her past sails).

We’ gone behind the scenes to walk through the galley, source of the incredible food we’re served every day in our dining room.

We’re gone to shows and lectures and donated our share of money to the casino.

We’ve spent time on the deck. And time sipping drinks in the lounge. (I had to order the Ginger Cosmo martini again just to watch the server flame the orange peel--quite an impressive trick.)

It’s a relaxing, pampered life here on the Queen Mary 2. All too soon (6:15 tomorrow morning) we’ll go through immigration, then after one last breakfast we'll say farewell to our shipboard friends.

Twenty-eight days after we set sail from Ft. Lauderdale, we'll pull into Long Beach.

A stop in Mexico

2009-02-08T20:37:00.000-08:00

February 7, Acapulco—Ann had declared several times that she wasn’t going ashore at Acapulco. She had seen the city enough times in the 60s and didn’t care to see if had changed. But then she decided to join our shore excursion and was most happy that she did.

Our friend Richard arranged for a van. Along with his wife Thelma and our friend Esme, we were in the capable hands of Carlos, our driver, who whisked us away from the terminal and along the main drag, the coastal road that hugs the curve of the bay’s shore. Restaurants, shops and hotels line the road.

Around the bend, he pulled off at a vantage point that let us see the sweep of the bay in one direction and the homes of the rich and famous in the other (Julio Iglesias, Henry Kissinger, Placido Domingo). Not to mention a posh hotel, Las Brisas, where Ann had stayed with her parents 40+ years ago.

We stopped at another of the Perry’s stomping grounds, the Fairmont Pierre Marquis, for drinks on the patio. Let me just say that the Perrys had good taste in hotels.

What stop in Acapulco would be complete without watching the cliff divers? We stopped to watch the show from a distance, and then had an unsuccessful attempt to visit the yacht club of Acapulco, followed by lunch overlooking the ocean (fantastic guacamole!)

Carlos took us to the “best market in town.” No doubt he gets paid for this opinion. I declined to buy anything from the pushy salesman who tried to bully me into buying overpriced silver and handicrafts.

We climbed a thousand steps (give or take) (not Ann, who waited in the car and stole cigarettes from the driver’s glove compartment) to see another great view of the city from atop a crumbling old hotel, the Casablanca.

Then back to the ship for a ride back in a tender to our anchoring spot in the bay. I joined the party on the stern deck for the sail away party to say “adios” to Mexico.

Sailing to Peru

2009-02-04T21:15:00.000-08:00

February 3, Lima—Ann’s friend and neighbor, Cecilia, is in Peru, visiting her family. The day before we were to arrive in Lima, she sent an email through a friend and we arranged to meet at the post terminal. But meeting up proved a bit tricky. First, there was no “terminal.” Second, the president of Peru was visiting the port that day, and security was ramped up. For almost an hour, we couldn’t find a way to the gate (the taxi and bus drivers all said they couldn’t drop us there and the port authorities wouldn’t let us walk there).

After some tense negotiations we finally found a taxi driver willing to take $10 to drive us to the gate of the port. There Cecilia was waiting for us with a car and driver—what a welcome site. Ceci had the driver show us around Callao—the port town—including its 500+-year-old fort. Then we drove to El Centro of Lima. Ceci kept repeating that everything in Lima was “too old” (her euphemism for “run down”), but I didn’t think so. The old buildings might not all be in perfect repair, but the ornate flourishes make them grand.

We stopped in Plaza de Armas and walked around the square. The square’s been the city center since 1535. In 1821, Jose de San Martin declared Peru’s independence there. The day we were there, dancers in traditional garb danced to live music. Ann was delighted to see me pulled into the fray to join the dance.

We drove to the pretty, modern neighborhood of Miraflores. Ceci still owns a condo there—it looks out on one of the town’s many parks strung along the edge of cliffs that look down on the sea. We drove down to the Circuito de Playas to go to lunch at one of Ceci’s favorite restaurants, Rosa Nautica, which sits on stilts over the ocean. From our table we could watch the swimmers and surfers.

Next up: the Indian Market. Ann stayed in the car, while I wandered from stall to stall with Ceci, looking at sweaters and shawls and silver. After a little negotiation, we headed back to the car and the return trip to the ship. After a fond farewell, we boarded the ship and headed to the deck for the sail-away party. Bob bought us drinks and we watched the sun set.

February 4, at sea—After a sleepy morning of breakfast and reading in the room, followed by more watercolor work and a trip to the gym for Jody, Ann and I gambled away too much money on the slot machines. We’re always certain that the next spin will be the one we win on….

Esme and Bob invited us to witness the marriage vow renewal ceremony. The cake was fake and the champagne $15 a glass, but the ceremony was quite sweet. Afterwards we went up to the lounge and shared a bottle of champagne, our gift to the renewed couple. It was also Esme’s birthday—so lots of toasting all around.

On to Chile

2009-02-01T20:06:00.000-08:00

Saturday, January 31, Valparaiso—We pulled in with the fog so thick it was an hour before I realized that we were docked alongside the Chilean navy. Close to a dozen grey gunships sat just meters away from our ship.

As the fog lifted, I walked over to the port deck to look at the city and watch as the gangplanks were put in place. Valparaiso’s hills climb almost from the shore line—45 hills in all, each covered with houses of turquoise and orange and green and just about every other hue. I could see one of the ascensores, cable cars that climb the steep hills.

Our friends Richard and Thelma had arranged for a van and invited us to join them ashore. The plan was to have lunch at the “local” yacht club (they’re both avid sailors and Richard owns a company that makes sails), then see the city of Valparaiso. But Richard had miscalculated the location of the club. So, we drove more than 30 miles north, past at least three other yacht clubs, to the Quintero Yacht Club.

In the process, we saw a wonderful slice of the country. A little of Valparaiso, then we passed the pretty beaches of Vina del Mar, through the town of Concon and onto Ritoque. (Look closely at the picture, and you might see the sea lions.) We left the beachfront as the road took us east of the towering sand dunes where horses and cattle grazed in dry scrubland.

Eventually, we had lunch on the small patio of the Quintero club (after Richard traded his Houston Y.C. flag Quintero flag) and watched as boats in the bay came and went for a Saturday sail.

By the time we made it back to Valparaiso, we had to negotiate for more time. Claudia, our excellent tour guide, gave us a speed tour of the town’s main square (Sotomayor) and had our driver, Eddie, take us along the winding Av. Alemania (the “snake,” Claudia called it) through some of the hilltop neighborhoods.

Ann stayed in the van, while Claudia took us on one of the ascensores to an amazing view of the city. We stopped to shop and talk with some of the street vendors.

Back down near the bay, we reluctantly boarded the shuttle and headed back to the ship (but not before we bought a few bottles of Chilean wine in the terminal). I stood on the deck and watched as the ship readied to head back to sea.

My consolation for leaving Valparaiso too soon: another fine dinner in the Queen’s Grill.

Around Cape Horn

2009-01-29T10:57:00.000-08:00

Wednesday, January 28—The commodore announced last night that he expected to arrive at Cape Horn by 9 a.m. I wasn’t the only person awake early. By 8, the deck was lined with people wearing raincoats and aiming cameras and binoculars. A haze of fog obscured the shapes of the islands we passed, including Deceit Island (a Cape Horn look-alike that has fooled many a captain to turn into rocky waters).

I went up to the top deck. The wind picked up, pressing me into the railing. We’ve heard tales of the terrors of Cape Horn weather, so the stinging rain and blustery wind we had is evidently on the tamer end of the weather scale. A cloud clung to the top of the cliff face.

Our ship swung around, so that people on the port side got a view, as well. Then back to circle the Cape, which is actually an island, and back north to pass between Isla Nueva and Isla Lennox into the mouth of the Beagle Channel. Named for the boat that carried Darwin as official naturalist, the channel’s water was calm and the sun broke out as we entered.

Heading west in the channel, we passed the occasional boat (including National Geographic’s Endeavor) and two towns—Ushuaia, the southernmost town in Argentina on our starboard side, Puerto Williams, the southernmost town in Chile on starboard. Soon after, the channel crossed the Argentine border, heading towards the Straits of Magellan and Chile’s fjord region.

We had heard that the glaciers have receded dramatically, but they’re still impressive and a few still reach from high in the mountains down to the sea—many of them striped with blue ice. One has a waterfall that tumbles into a pool of white water. The steward tells me the area looks just like Norway to him.

After a full day of staring at the scenery, Ann and I ate dinner in our cabin so that we could keep staring out. The sun didn’t set until after 9. I took a little time out from gazing to finish a watercolor I was painting for Ann…a much-modified version of the Queen Mary 2. Next up, she says she wants a cat. I had better keep going to class.

Ann went to sleep early, so I headed off for last night’s headline act—soprano Annette Wardell. What an amazing voice and such a great nickname, “The Dinky Diva.”

Stopping off in Montevideo

2009-01-27T17:26:00.000-08:00

We spent two days sailing from Rio down the length of Brazil to our next stop in Montevideo. Montevideo is a city of 1 ½ million—and it’s Uruguay’s largest city. It’s surrounded on three sides by water, with a 14-mile coastal promenade that I wish I could say I had seen!

We were late docking because the captain had to wait until the winds died down. The channel leading to the piers is so narrow, there’s no room for error with a ship this size. The docking maneuvers were a slow motion dance that swung the ship around to a perfect mooring.

Ann decided to stay on board, so I went ashore with Esme Gibson, one of our charming tablemates. Esme and I found a seat on one of Casa Mario’s free vans into town. This leather shop had been advertising non-stop on the ship TV, so we recognized Mario the proprietor when we got there. Esme decided to buy a bright red leather jacket from Mario and company. They took measurements and promised to have the jacket altered and delivered to the ship before we left that night. (P.S. They delivered as promised.)

We wandered through the old city, with its gracefully decaying colonial architecture. Unfortunately, our Sunday visit meant that most of the shops were shuttered. But we found places to stop for drinks (including a medio y medio—mix of champagne and wine—that didn’t impress either of us), sites to see (such as the odd, underground mausoleum of General Jose Gervasio Artigas, the father of Uruguay) and flea markets to peruse.

Back on the Queen Mary, leaving town was another marvel of piloting work. I stood up on the 11th deck and watched as the lights of the city faded in the distance.

Then back to sea. More lectures and lessons, caberet shows and formal dinners. Plus, lots of time to read. (Just finished Paula Spencer by Roddy Doyle—loved it). We’re all excited about tomorrow…rounding Cape Horn—sort of (more on that later).

Rio!

2009-01-24T11:23:00.000-08:00

Thursday, Jan. 22—Our tour guide greeted us at the end of the pier and brought us to our car for a day exploring the city. The driver pulled out into stop-and-go traffic and the guide, Rodrigo, launched into a narrative which he impressively kept up in and out of the center city, through mountain tunnels, along beaches and up to Corcovado.

The city looks a little run-down but it’s charming and warm—a mix of old and new, with people walking everywhere. According to Rod., “cariocas” (residents of Rio) start each day at a juice bar and end each day at a bar, which explains why there’s one of each at just about every intersection.

I got out to walk a short way along Ipanema Beach. It just made me want to come back and stay a lot longer. Naturally, we drove by the bar where "The Girl from Ipanema" was written on our way to lunch and a nice, cold Brazilian beer.

Ann’s only request in Rio was to go up Corcovado Mountain to see Cristo Redentor (Christ the Redeemer). Rod. did his best to dissuade us. It wasn’t quite rainy, but the mist and the clouds didn’t bode well for a view of the city from the top. We didn’t care. So the driver wound his way up through the mountain’s rain forest.

Rod. did a little negotiation to get permission to drive the car up to the elevator. Then there was a steep escalator. One of attendants saw that Ann got safely to the top and, finally, she was there. Shrouded in mist, the giant Christ with his outstretched arms was more mysterious than imposing. We had moments when the clouds cleared and we could get a wonderful view down at the city.

After receiving our blessing from the resident priest, we headed back down after Rod. took me on a short walk to see the view of Sugar Loaf—an odd lump rising from the coast. We stopped to feed monkeys (Rod. wouldn’t take no for an answer.)

Then back to the boat, seven hours later. On the ship, a troupe of Brazilians came aboard to present “Brasilerissimo,” a spectacle of Carnival-themed music and scantily-clad dancers balancing colorful feather headdresses. After, we stood along the rail and watched the lights of Rio fade as the ship headed back to sea.

Jan. 24--We've been at sea for the past two days. Tomorrow, Mondevideo. For this afternoon, I'll be sipping my drink, reading my book and staring out at the blue, blue ocean...until it's time for dinner. Happily, it's an "elegant casual night." After that we'll head to the Royal Court Theatre to hear Izzy Cooper (you know that "internationally celebrated recording artist").

Crossing the Equator

2009-01-19T19:09:00.001-08:00

Today I was welcomed to the Southern Hemisphere with what I’m told is an age-old ceremony, the Crossing of the Line.

We “pollywogs” gathered at one end of the deck, awaiting the arrival of King Neptune and his court. After a lot of bad doggerel and silly pomp, we were accused of various crimes, found guilty, sentenced to a slathering of gunk and ordered to, quite literally, “kiss the fish.” After that, a dunk in the pool. (In the days of old, it would have been a dunk in the ocean while being held by our ankles.)

No longer a pollywog, I have been officially declared a “shell back.” Ann loved the entire spectacle—in fact, she insisted on it. Now she wants to frame my Crossing of the Line certificate and hang it next to hers.

When I headed back to the cabin to clean up from the experience, Ann was befriended by an Italian/Brazilian who conversed with her in Spanish and offered to buy us martinis in Rio. “My first conquest,” she told me.

We’ve had a few days at sea since Grenada. Filled—for me—with watercolor class, gym sessions, trips to the planetarium, laps around the deck and shows in the theater.

Last night at the Royal Court Theatre: a Dean Martin impersonator! ("Volare!") Tonight: a multi-instrumentalist. He played tunes from Fiddler on the Roof on the mandolin, Bonanza on the electric guitar, “Alfie” on the harmonica, Beatles on the piano and Charlie Daniels on the violin. Wow.

Grenada

2009-01-16T20:29:00.001-08:00

In our first fews days at sea, we have donned ball gowns, attended lectures, admired the world's only floating planetarium and had our picture taken with the captain. All this time, the vista out every window has been the sea. Nothing but blue water, blue sky and the occasional cloud.

This morning, as we awoke, we pulled into the harbor of St. George’s, Grenada. Ann and I lined up for a spot on one of the “tenders,” the boats used to take passengers ashore when the ship is anchored. A short trip and we pulled up to the pier.

Stretching up from the water is a canvas of green with daubs of brightly colored houses spotting the jagged hillsides. The heat hit us hard as soon as we stepped into the sunlight, where vendors lined up hawking spices, postcards, shells, jewelry and T-shirts.

We decided on an air-conditioned tour of the island and climbed into one of the dozens of vans awaiting passengers. Andy, our driver, whipped into traffic, dodging pedestrians, parked cars and oncoming traffic on narrow winding roads. He stopped often to point out nutmeg trees, dig up saffron roots and lament the destruction of Hurricane Ivan.

After a trip to a view a waterfall and a then a drive to enjoy “the best panoramic view," we stopped for lunch at the Tropicale, a quiet open air restaurant where it takes more than a half an hour to assemble two cheese sandwiches.

Back in town, it was time for our trip on the Rhum Runner, a tour boat that plies passengers with rum punch while sailing around the bend to a nice, little beach. When the boat stopped, I waded in the water, while Ann chatted up a German man who also stayed on board.

Then back to St. George’s, back on a tender and back to the ship. Ann was exhausted. After she settled in the cabin, I went up to the top terrace to watch as the ship pulled away, leaving the twinkling lights of Grenada behind us. Then it was time for dinner with our tablemates Esmy and Bob, followed by showtunes in the Royal Theatre.

2009-01-14T06:21:00.000-08:00

Tuesday, January 13: Sitting on a deck chair on the balcony of our stateroom…even when I’m not looking out at the vast expanse of water, a gentle breeze, the vibration of the ship and the wonderful sound of churning water remind me that we are at sea. Ann is dozing off in our cabin. Though not late, it’s already been a long day.

Boarding was a long, rather confusing ordeal. Eventually, we were rescued by a porter with a wheelchair, and he pushed Ann through embarkation all the way to our stateroom.

With champagne and strawberries to greet us, we toasted the start of our adventure. The only hitch: Ann’s luggage hadn’t arrived. I did my best to distract my cabin mate as she threatened to either “kill someone” or get off the ship if her luggage didn’t arrive pronto.

An effective distraction arrived in the form of the evacuation drill. We carried our lifejackets down to the 2nd deck and made our way to section “J.” After being assured by the captain that all was well, we got a quick lesson on survival. Should we hear seven quick blasts followed by one long blast of the ship’s horn, we presumably now know what to do.

At long last, Ann’s luggage arrived and we celebrated by polishing off the bottle of champagne as I hung up her cruise grab. I had been dubious about what $20K buys these days at Neiman Marcus…but no longer. She has dazzling ensemble after dazzling ensemble.

At dinner in the Queen’s Grill, we met tablemates Esmy and Bob, both former journalists. We turned in early, lulled to sleep by the sound of the sea.

A cruise novice wonders what to pack

2009-01-08T12:52:00.000-08:00

I have the suitcase stuffed. Not sure what's in there, or if I'm brave enough to unpack it and do an inventory.

The adventures I'm used to require hiking boots and water bottles. This time around, I have a schedule of formal dinners and balls and guidelines about where I can wear shorts on board. How will a peasant like me fare in first-class?

But not to worry, my Voyage Guide, assures me that "the general atmosphere on board all Cunard cruises is elegant, but relaxed." So, if I can just figure out how to be "elegant," at least I already have "relaxed" down pat.

I fly to Florida on Saturday. Had to leave a couple days early in case wintry weather decided to kick in, so I'm heading south with time to spare. If all goes well, we board Tuesday at noon. The Queen Mary 2 sails first to either Granada or Barbados (conflicting info in our pre-cruise docs) with next Friday slated for "shore excursions."

My travel companion, my aunt Ann, informs me that she has carefully packed all her ball gowns (newly purchased during a 20K shopping spree at Neiman Marcus) in her Louis Vuitton luggage.