There seems to be some renewed interest in curising around Australia and in the South Pacific.
About three years ago I took an extensive cruise in this area, -- 23 days aboard the QE2 from Sydney to Hong Kong by way of Japan and Taiwan, and then an overlan trip to Beijing.
I sent home a series of columns for our local newspaper, and only recent re-discovered them on my computer archives.
I thought I would post them here -- at least I will start them, and if there is any interest, I will continue.
OFF THE COAST OF AUSTRALIA-- Well, here we are, sailing under sunny blue skies and sparkling water so blue it is bright cobalt. And we are having a great time. I won't wish you were here, because the ship is jam-packed, mostly with Australians sailing up their own coastline. Frankly, there is little room for anyone else until after we leave Darwin in another couple of days. That will leave us Americans, Brits and a sprinkling of Japanese, French and Germans, many of whom have embarked on the whole world cruise of the Queen Elizabeth II. We are on board for only one 23-day leg. Enjoying it I am, now. It is Sunday morning here on this side of the world. I had a good tbreakfast on white linen cloths. I have attended Mass. And I have a full day with choice of activities to look forward to. The trip did not begin auspiciously. In fact, for the first 30-some hours it was downright hellacious. The flight to Chicago went without a hitch, but we had to get off on the tarmac and walk 100 yards into the terminal during a blowing snowstorm. Naturally, sinced we were headed into summer, we had left our coats at home. The flight to LA was not too bad either. Half the plane passengers were heading to Sydney, as were we, to board the ship. We got acquainted with many of our fellow shipmates-to-be over the Western United States. It was the third flight that was the killer. Fourteen hours in a packed plane. Fortunately we were in the front row, so we had some leg room. Unfortunately, we were flying at 30,000 plus feet, and at that altitude my cold-stuffed head was screaming. Also unfortunately, the movie selections were awful, but that didn't matter too much because our individual screen was acting up anyway. I don't even want to talk about my experience at the /Sydney airport. Except to say the fruit do cornered me. I had forgotten the banana I had stuffed in my carryall perhaps to eat on the way. The Aussies are picky about fruit coming into their country and they have trained these darling little dogs to sniff it out. He tumbled all over my carryall, and the nice uniform with him said you have fruit in there, and I said no I don't and he said the dog says so and I said will open it then. And he did and -- those pesky little dogs don't lie -- confiscated the forgotten banana. Now he wrote me up and I had to go through a more formal customs check, just like any common smuggler, when I got the rest of my baggage. That was not right away. Someone had grabbed my bag off the carousel, realized it was not theirs and set it aside. Everyone else was gone before I discovered it over against the wall. Tired, frustrated, bleary eyed and stiff, I finally made my way into Sydney aboard the Cunard shuttle, to a downtown hotel, the Four Seasons, to await afternoon transfer to the ship. Fancy hotel. posh breakfast room. I ordered tea and toast and the white-gloved attendant brought me six kinds of toasted bread and rolls. The tea was hot and comforting until I got the bill - 26 Aussie bucks with tip, that is, about 18 American. With hours to kill I walked out in the hot street to have a look, around. It looked pretty much like any big American city, certainly busier than Tulsa downtown on a weekday. Remember, it is summer kin this part of the world, and it was both hot and sultry. After drooling over some gorgeous opals with a price tag too much for my budget, I came across an old pub, open to the street. It said it was the oldest in the city, founded in 1788, a half-century after the British had sent in the first load of convicts to colonize this huge and empty continent. I perched on a high stool at a dark wood scarred bar that could have been the original, and order a pint of dark ale-- with stipulations. I asked that the beer be cold and that I could pay in American currency.
"This isn't England;" the pert barmaid said. "We serve our beer cold." "And this isn't America," she added. "We don't take Yankee dollars." But a young man sipping h is ale nearby flipped her a dollar, and she built me a pint. It was cold and bitter, but the other customers were friendly and we chatted. Now this welcome was more like it. They seem really caught u p in queues around here. Back at the hotel, we all queued up for the busses for the hot distance to the downtown pier where t Queen was reigning, right across that famous Opera House. We queued up for customs (second time in one day) and we queued up for boarding. Then another disappointment. Our promised upgrade in cabin class had not come through, and we were ushered into the smallest little room we have yet had on four cruises on this ship. The only bright spot-- two huge magnums of French champagne chilling in silver buckets, compliments of the staff in recognition of our frequent sailing status. We would rather have had another dresser drawer. And before we could catch our breath, they were announcing life jacket drill. We had to don those bright orange inflated vests and find our way up to our prescribed muster station. OK, so here we were, tired and not too happy. But we took ourselves in hand. This was the start of what is to be a great vacation, and we are not going to let minor foulups spoil it. So we grabbed one bottle of the bubbly and headed for the great dining hall to meet out tablemates for the duration. We planned to get our introductions off to a good start by sharing the champagne. And so we did.
And here is the second.
Please let me know if you enjoy reding these. I sure hd fun LIVING them.
ramblin two OVER THE GREAT BARRIER REEF -- When I first started writing this column, nearly 40 years ago, one of the first things I wrote about was a vacation our family spent in the Bahamas. We had flown down there in my husband's Skylane, over water so beautiful it was impossible to describe. I used all the words I could think of to name the various hues of blues and greens. And finally I just fell back on one simple description: "This water is incredible." Now, forty years later, I can do no better. The water over the Great Barrier Reef of Australia, half a world away from the Bahama Islands, is simply incredible. Now, as then, I spent a day snorkeling. But there were differences. Then I was in a protected cove, with gentle swelling waves, over random reefs. No one else was around, but me, my teenage son and a couple of other teenagers who lived on those out islands. We dived off a little boat, and the boys swooped around spearing fish for our dinner. I moved slowly, quietly, my flippers keeping me afloat, while I marvelled at the wonderful world beneath the sea. I was younger then, and stronger. I could swim. Now my knees are gone, my shoulder has never really "thawed out" since that surgery for a torn rotator cuff. Water, except in my shower or in the wading section of my backyard pool, scares me. Nevertheless, when we left the QE2 to take a jaunt right over the reef off the coast of Cairns in northern Australia, I wanted to be where the action was. In the water, with mask and snorkel. Thanks to a wonderful man named Stephen, I was there. Stephen is a native Britisher, in Australia for the past two decades, and for 12 years a marine naturalist with Great Adventures which had been charged by Q2 folks to take about 215 of us intrepid passengers to the reef. We skimmed over incredibly blue water (I hope I don't overuse that word incredible) about 30 miles to a pontoon moored near Green Island, right on top of the reef. I told Stephen on the catamaran that I wanted to snorkel but I hesitated because of my limitations. He just grinned at me. No problem, he assured me. I will take care of you. And he did. There were eight of us "poor swimmers" in his little group. He outfitted me with these mammoth fins, helped me fit a mask tightly to my face and over my nose, and adjusted my breathing tube in my mouth. Then slowly he helped me down the narrow ladder into the water. He held out a huge rubber ring, the kind they throw to folks who go overboard, and told me just to hold on. I put my face in the water, took a big gulp of air through my tube, and held on. For 25 minutes he towed me through the water, all the time keeping a running commentary that I could not always hear, pointing out the marvelous sights below. So many kinds of coral! Some looked like sticks and some brains. Some like rocks and some like twigs on a tree. Most were beigey, but some were bright blue and some tinged with the pinkish hue that is associated with these little marine animals that form the reef -- coral. Stephen warned us not to stand on the coral -- as a designated World Heritage Site it is protected against vandals and we could not touch, break off a piece, snitch a souvenir. This reef is about 1200 miles in length, all across the northeastern corner of Australia, which is a much bigger continent than it looks on the maps we had in school. This was just one little bit of it. Naturalists say there are more than 2000 species of marine animals and 400 species of plant life in the reef ecosystem, the most complex on the planet. I was not counting, but I know I saw 20 varieties of fish. Some were huge, and some were teenytiny. Stephen named most of them, not that I remembered more than parrot fish, yellow tails, dog face, etc. At one time he pulled me through a school of fish about 10 to 14 inches in length, shiny white with pink mouths and gills. The tiger fish were striped yellow and black, just like the ferocious animal they are named for. The parrotfish was brightly colored, just like the tropical bird. There were so many of them it was like diving into a tank in an aquarium, I reached out to try to touch one with my hands, but they snooted me and passed on by. Of great interest was the giant clam lying on a little hill of brain coral. Stephen gently toed it with his flipper, and the clam rippled its sides in and out, trying to close off the danger. We did not see any sharks, but we did see a small man of war, a ray fish. Nor did we see any jelly fish, an infestation of which has virtually closed all the beaches in northern Australia this summer. We were out a little far for them, Stephen said. I sputtered and swallowed salt water. Stephen asked me if I wanted to go back. No way. Not till my time was up. I had only one eye open at this point, so much salt stinging my right eye. No matter. I could still see and marvel. Reluctantly, at the end of the tour, I let them help me out of the ocean and back onto the pontoon. My nose was running, my arms were aching, my back was sunburned. And I was happy. I showered in fresh water and tried to put my clothes back on in a cubicle smaller than my broom closet. I gotta tell you about this. The boy who was helping me to the showers opened the first door and exposed a tall passenger standing buck naked. He let out a yelp and grabbed for something -- his towel, the door, I don't know. But dozens of people standing around whooped and his face (of course I was looking at his face!) turned redder than his sunburn. (I made sure my door was locked.) It was a tired bunch of people who climbed aboard the catamaran for the journey back to the ship lying at harbor near Yorkey's Knob. And there were lots of sunburned faces at dinner table that evening. Nevertheless, it was a great day. I had come to Australia to see the Barrier Reef, and see it I did, One last word. How did it compare with the Bahamas? The reef was bigger, with far more varieties of coral. But I think the fish in the Bahamian waters were more varied, more colorful. I recommend either one.
Cruise Line Fans: Cruise Reviews and Chat From Real Cruisers
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Centrum Deck
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Cruise Places
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Australia
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Sydney to Hong Kong - an Odessey
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