Author: Marilyn Paluszak

  • Reliving Freighter Travel on the Pacific Ocean


    Discovering the Pacific Ocean on a Freighter, 2005


    photo-freighter-desk-credenza-3-windows
    Owners Suite
    photo-freighter-owners-cabin-seating
    Big seating area
    photo-owners-bedroom-2-portholes
    Hardest Bed, Ever
    photo-sink-area
    Closet Space
    photo-shower-in-owners-cabin
    Shower and Bathroom

    photo-4-passengers-officers-table
    Four passengers: Joan, Dave, Marilyn, Robert

    Engine Room Tour

    It was 4:30 in the morning on a Thursday (September 29, 2005, to be exact) when we woke to the realization that we were moving. All the years of talking about going round the world for a year, the past month of driving from coast to coast to bring us to our point of embarkation, all the emails with our broker and the post office drops to exchange paperwork has brought us to this point.

    “We’re moving, we’re moving!!”  It doesn’t matter that we’ve only had about four hours of sleep … we are more excited than eight-year-olds on Christmas Eve.  This is a heady cocktail and we are filled with anticipation and apprehension.  What on Earth are we getting ourselves into, we laugh.  Then we laugh more because we realize how fortunate we are to share this desire to experience the world and to both be crazy enough to kneel on a hard bed at 4:30 in the morning because we will admit to being excited about floating off into the darkness.  This is a big moment for us, as it will be a year before we return stateside. We force ourselves to go back to sleep, as breakfast is at 7:30 a.m. and we need to get into a schedule.

    Accommodations in the Owners Cabin are spacious

    Our cabin is the “Owners Cabin” located just one level down from the bridge. The Captain has a suite on one side and the Chief has his on the other. Our suite has a large sitting area as well as a desk and credenza; a separate room for the bed and bathroom.

    The bed is a killer. It is, as one expects, a box sort of affair with a mattress. This helps, I’m sure, to keep the mattress on the bed but it also means there is not much cushion. Rio said it was a brand new mattress and it has the rigidity of one! Being a side sleeper, my hip bones were very sore at first. Actually, we both woke the first morning with sore knees from kneeling on the bed to look down into the hold as they loaded containers in Long Beach.

    The hard mattress is not getting any softer.  After a rough first night, we found a wool blanket and put it under the sheet, folded over to add two layers below our butts.  We fall asleep but wake up as we roll over and hips and shoulders hurt.  Two mornings later we flipped the mattress and refolded the blanket to be four thicknesses and then put it at butt level.  Either we got used to being sore or that worked as eventually we could sleep peacefully.

    Mealtime schedules coincide with officer duty hours

    As we learned upon embarking in Long Beach, meals are served at set hours:  breakfast, 7:30-8:30; lunch, 11:30-12:30; and dinner, 5:30-6:30.  The Captain and his chiefs sit at a round table a few feet from our larger, rectangular table that can seat eight – four junior officers and four passengers – although it turns out our table is rarely at full capacity.

    It is standard practice to have officers work two four-hour shifts each day:  either 12-4, 4-8 or 8-12 with the most senior officer getting the best hours, followed by the more junior (the Seconds and the Thirds).  This means that if you have the 12-4 shift, you work from midnight to 4:00 a.m. and from noon to 4:00 p.m. every day. 

    This may seem odd to all of us 9-5 types, but it makes a lot of sense on a ship.  It keeps everyone fresh and, after all, they have no place to go anyway.  Not being dullards, we put the two thoughts together and realized that the galley schedule facilitates feeding those men who are going on duty as well as those coming off.  It was not unusual to see one man get up and leave and another show up mid-stream.  The Captain does not work one of these shifts – the Captain is always available, 24/7, to manage the ship and everything and everyone on board.

    Only four passengers on board the “CP Tui”

    We met our fellow passengers last night at dinner – Joan got on in Long Beach sometime after we did and is a retired Californian who will be debarking in Australia.  Dave is a New Zealander, on his way home after being on the Tui for a month already.  He originally boarded in New Zealand and took the tour up to Tahiti and then Vancouver before coming south to Long Beach where we all boarded. 

    Our first breakfast is French toast and eggs to order. Joan’s request for maple syrup is met with a worried look – no, never heard of maple syrup although there is butter and numerous other condiments all corralled into high-lipped trays at either end of our table.  We also have a carafe of coffee and, on the sideboard, there is milk and juice, glasses, and cereals as well as a microwave in case anyone wishes to heat up something or make oatmeal.  We quickly learn that each day’s menu is written out and placed on the sideboard in the morning so we can give it a check-over as we enter and get our requests in line for when Rio comes to see what we want. 

    Rio, from the Philippines, is the Ship Steward.  A pleasant, hard working and capable young man, one of his jobs is to assist the Cook, serve prepared foods and bus tables.  He always shows up within a minute of any of us entering the galley, to ask what we want or to see if we’ll take what is on the menu for a given meal.  This isn’t a multiple choice event, but when eggs are on the menu for breakfast, they come “made to order” and if you hate peas, for instance, and peas are the vegetable for a meal, you can ask him to not put them on your plate.

    Rio, the Ship’s Steward, has a multifaceted job

    Rio, it turns out, begins each day at 4:30 a.m.  In addition to watching over all of us at breakfast, lunch and dinner, he arrives at our cabin every morning at 9:00 to remove any trash; he exchanges linens every five days or so as well as doing the laundry for that linen; and vacuums the cabins every three days or so.

    He is also in charge of delivering the Captain’s slop chest items, has a role to play in emergency evacuation situations and plays ping pong at night “for exercise.”  Slop chest, by the way, is a term used for the items the Captain purchases for sale to crew and passengers.  The supplies are very limited, but generally there will be a toothbrush, toothpaste, water, beer, spirits, cigarettes and a couple of types of candy bars. 

    Our Captain has inherited some supplies from his predecessor and retains that Captain’s pricing structure for those items while charging only cost for anything he has purchased.  He simply does not believe he needs to make pocket money from the sale of such items to his own crew and passengers and we like him even more for that attitude. 

    On the days that the slop chest is “open,” there are order slips on the sideboard in the dining room and we are welcome to fill one out to order from the sheet of available items. Rio brings the orders to the Captain and then, after dinner that night, delivers the goods to your cabin.  Sometime before debarking, the Captain contacts each passenger with a total amount due and you pay in cash – American dollars. We bought a carton of bottled water for brushing teeth and drinking and ended up sharing with Joan as they were two liter bottles and more than we needed.  It worked out well, as she didn’t need a whole carton either!

    Lunch is a hardy meal followed by a walk about

    Lunch the first day was a pork chop with a fried egg on top, potato croquettes and canned asparagus – oh, and chicken macaroni soup before and three slices of honeydew melon after.  Since the galley is closer to deck, I asked Rob to shepherd the ladies around the ship before we would climb back to our rooms.

    The water is an incredibly intense and quite beautiful deep blue but we are each very, very careful to grab hold of things here and there – no one is leaning over, for sure.  Water is hard to describe because it has a depth color – the base, as it were – and then the top which is glasslike in reflecting the sun and light and cloud shadows.  It is that glassy top layer that shimmers and quakes but out here in the depths, you really get the full force of the deep navy blue beneath. 

    The froth kicked up by the prow makes turquoise and white lace trim along the nearside that ends up as a wide wake behind – our footprint across the ocean.  I longed to be able to record the deep blue on film, but know that will not really happen as the glitter mirror-top protects that view.

    Rob had a spot of upset with headache, after breakfast, so it was a good thing to go eat and then walk about outside.  The fresh air and keeping the horizon in sight does its wonders.  After clambering back in, we both thought a nap would be good, so we slept for a couple of hours.  Dinner will be spaghetti.  As it heads toward 4:00 p.m., we are going directly into the sun.  The seas are a bit friskier here, which is what woke us up. 

    Getting used to being a speck on the Pacific

    We are heading SSW in a straight line from Long Beach to Auckland. The afternoon sun is blinding as it shimmers across the ripples.  Day one and we have already learned that the sun on the ocean is something else.  To port (yes, that is the left side as you face forward), the water appears as it did earlier – dark, dark blue with little rolling swells here and there – no whitecaps other than the lacy froth we create as we glide along. 

    To starboard, however, the sun creates the illusion of choppy waters as it gives dimension in light and shadows to each wave.  Earlier today, it was clear for miles – nothing but water; now we are heading for a veil of foggy white mist.  Suddenly we can see little puffy clouds beginning to go overhead and wonder if the mist wasn’t just that – a patch of clouds that seemed to sit at the ocean’s edge until we reached them. 

    The art of time zones on a working ship

    There is so much to learn about ship life.  For example, at lunch we learned that all the ship’s clocks are electronic and will automatically be reset as we pass through time zones.  I wondered if they don’t cheat a bit and force it during the night or something…it sure would play havoc with scheduling to have it mid-workday. 

    We wonder how everything works and we – who have always thought we had a modicum of control over our lives – realize we are truly out of control here, where we must rely on the Captain and his crew for everything.  This is not a Disney ride that will end in a minute or two; we are heading straight for the sun, and there is no turning back.

    When we woke on the first of October it was a new time zone. That made breakfast seem to come at a more reasonable hour since we gained an hour in the night.  My guess proved correct, too. They do the clock turning at midnight so the third officer gets the extra hour to work.

    BBQ Night with Karaoke

    In the seemingly middle of the Pacific Ocean, with water all around us, there is a charcoal grill out at the furthest point aft beyond the muster station. Some 20 people from 5 countries share a Karaoke machine, a bottle of rum, another of vodka, a few beers, lots of sodas and grilled chicken and pork, along with a tossed green salad, potato salad and enough cake for all.  It looks like the 4th of July in the middle of America!

    The crew stand around a high “table” made up of a sheet of something draped over a steel thing and the officers and passengers sit at a picnic table on benches brought out from somewhere – all gently swaying to the swells as we go full-steam ahead.  What fun.  Oh, and Dave was the happiest of the lot since the meds I gave him earlier in the day worked; and he is feeling 100 percent. I’m so glad we had a full contingent of meds to share.

    After the sun set, we started to walk back into the tower, but the walkway is totally black.  It is scary at night because you can hear the water being tossed back into the ocean from the sides of the ship, but you can’t see anything.  It is a toss-up whether you are more scared of falling overboard (sure death at night) or of falling and hitting your head (everything is solid steel, so that outcome doesn’t have a good part either).  This was especially hard for me because I have night blindness. It was extremely hard for me to discern even shapes on this moonless night so I was happy to see them put out a light to help us find the tower again.

    It was fun to join in the Saturday night break, but we feel a bit like interlopers who have been granted the favor of being able to share a smile with these hardworking men who leave family and friends behind for months at a time.  They graciously do not begrudge our presence although we are slug-a-beds compared to them. They work every day to keep the ocean from eroding the ship and to keep the ship running.  This is a good crew.

    We meet Rio at b-fast and he says he was up until 1:00 a.m., cleaning up after the BBQ.  All passengers show up for breakfast, but not many officers – none of the lower ranked ones who usually sit with us – just the Chief.  Dave has arranged for us to get a tour of the engine room at 10:30.  He did some sailing in his early days and is much more familiar with the operation of the ship and its crew and he is helping us along nicely.

    The engine room tour includes work gloves

    Well…we got our tour of the Engine Room.  What a trip.  The second (or is it third) engineer showed us how the ship has reclamation facilities to remove and purify water from waste so they can dump the fluid back into the ocean; and they distill sea water for drinking water (there is a tap in the crew’s mess) and for washing and cooking purposes.  We also saw the air intake and the giant pistons and all that mechanical “stuff;” the parts that keep the ship moving. 

    It is very hot and very loud down in the engine room.  We put on ear protectors and were given a pair of cotton work gloves so we could hold onto handrails and not get all greasy.  Those gloves will come in handy on our walks around the decks, too.  The hub of the engine room is very basic steel with a lot of dials and gauges and computer monitors. 

    Invitation to the bridge

    One day we went up to the bridge to have a look around.  Although this is only one flight up from our room, the view from here is fabulous.  No portals here; the entire front wall from waist up is glass and the room is quite long – the full width of the tower minus two small decks, one port and another starboard.  Just like the starship “Enterprise,” there are overstuffed arm chairs for the Captain and the officer on duty.  We are free to use the binoculars that are set along the edge, just so long as we don’t mess with them – they are set for viewing. 

    The enormity of the ocean hits again.  The view is awesome – turn to the left and slowly turn front and then to the right and all you see is bits of ship, water and horizon, some 20-30 miles away.  Oh, and sky. Lots and lots of sky.  You are always aware that you are just a dot, floating along…always moving, always humming with vibrations under your feet…sometimes rolling leisurely maybe five degrees to port and then to starboard. 

    There is a poster with pictures of the ocean that shows how to determine the wind speed based on the surface of the ocean; i.e., as the number of whitecaps increase, so does the wind. This is important, as the speed of the ship depends on the winds and waves.  Another poster has pictures and descriptions of clouds.  We check out the maps charting our path and laugh because there is an absolutely straight line drawn from Long Beach toward Auckland and we know we’ve been going straight ahead for days. 

    Rio says the seas from New Zealand to Australia are white – meaning, heavy with whitecaps and lots of rock, roll and pitch.  We picked the right direction to go for this maiden voyage.  Dave says the trip up was very rough, with two foot of water on the aft deck where we had our BBQ.  Rio says the couple who were in our room on the way up never ate for three days, the seas were so rough. 

    We are very fortunate, indeed.  As we hear this, it is our fifth day, one-third of the way across to New Zealand, about a day away from the Equator and, although it is getting warmer, it still is very calm.  The days are always sun laden but the heat at night is new and the real indicator that we are getting nearer to the Equator.

    So far we have not seen stars.  Each day, around three o’clock, the sun starts to glare off the ocean at about the one o’clock position, just off starboard, and it lights up the waves.  This is blinding to look at directly.

    Unfortunately, by four o’clock, we seem to reach the horizon where before the clouds had been forming and there really isn’t much sky to see at night.  Besides, they don’t want us walking about at night even if we had the nerve to wander, which we don’t.  It is so incredibly dark and dangerous for us land lovers; eerie on these moonless nights.

    Still surrounded by water, the heat of the day says we are nearing the Equator

    I told the Captain one day that I was looking forward to seeing the Southern Cross – the southern hemisphere’s version of our Big Dipper constellation.  He said it would be better as we near New Zealand.  Even though we have been to Venezuela and Peru on prior trips, we were either too close to the equator or not out in the dark in a place to see it well before. 

    It has always been comforting to look up and see the Big Dipper as we travel to Europe; realizing our folks are under the same sky even though we know we aren’t really looking at it at the same time.  There is constancy to the sight, even when surrounded by the strange and alien sights and smells of another land.  So we are anxious to see the Southern Cross; to see what it is that provides that constancy for all the Down Under types.

    We watched the stars for a long time one night.  We even went outside, up on our F Deck level.  The winds were so ferocious when we tried to look out over the front of the ship that we moved around back (the outside “deck” at this level is sort of L-shaped and just a few feet wide at the side, maybe 10’ x 12’ toward the back).  Neither of us, even once, removed both hands at the same time from a handrail or a step or anything we could grab.  The winds had to be at least 30 mph.

    Rob was the first to notice the stars; from the living area he could see one star that was so bright he thought it was a plane or a satellite.  We quickly turned off the room lights and, as our eyes began to adjust, thousands of stars popped into view – the bright primary ones and then the secondary and then the tertiary ones that our city lights hide – the Milky Way is there, in its splendor.  What a present.

    The ship is so scary at night – pitch black all around, but you hear the waves lap up as the prow cuts a swath across the Pacific.  We don’t venture far; we are content with this spectacular sight.

    Today, as we go into lunch, the Captain was speaking with Dave.  There has been a terrible bus accident in Poland and some 20-30 children and a couple of teachers have died.  His son had his backpack on and was ready to go climb on that bus when he suddenly said no, not today.  How scary is that…to be so far away when you know your family could use a hug.”

    – From our Journal Entry 010, October 4, 2005

    Tonight we reflect on the day.  The ocean was calm and we continued to move at a good clip, but the paradox is that we cannot arrive early; there is no room on the wharf for us so we need to “lose” two days.  The Captain will slow us down or even stop to force our arrival to be on the 13th.   Passenger Joan is chaffing at the bit to keep moving.  It must be hard to do this voyage alone and we think she’s starting to have cabin fever, while Passenger Dave is happy as a clam because he loves being at sea.

    During our morning walk around the ship we met Dave, who was intent on getting our stowaway starling to Auckland alive.  As we spoke he suddenly pointed – three white birds flew across the bow without a look at us.  From where they came, we have no clue!  Christmas Island is out there somewhere, but a long way from us, for sure.  No sign of our bird; he doesn’t come out to join the others.

    It was dark as we woke today and the Captain’s alarm is what actually got us up in time for breakfast.  Rob guesses correctly:  they announced at breakfast that the time would be retarded another hour tonight.  Oh, and at one in the morning, we are due to cross the Equator.  We won’t be up to greet Neptune!

    Wash day on the freighter is an adventure in itself

    Life aboard a cargo freighter can be so boring and yet, so different.  As passengers, it turns out we share a wash day with the Captain – Wednesdays and Saturdays.  That means yesterday was wash day; our first, since we didn’t have anything to amount to much that first Saturday.  Now we know better.  The machine is very small and you are expected to pack it…no problem.   We toss in half a scoop of non-suds soap that they provide, put another half scoop in the slot on top, close the door and press Start. 

    The problem arises if you watch the machine, as it seems very little water is in there and even fewer suds.  We North American women are looking for lots of water and suds.  We are doomed to be disappointed and tormented with worry.  In the end, our suggestion to future travelers is to toss in the clothes, the allotted amount of soap, press Start and go back to your cabin for an hour…and no looking back!

    Sure enough, an hour later, the wash is “done,” and we start to unload it only to discover it is sopping wet.  Some items are wetter than others.  Being contrary souls, we North American women are now concerned about that, as well.  Again, the only recourse is to forget it – squeeze the excess water out into the slop tub and toss the clothes into the dryer and then return every hour to reset it, as nothing appears to dry. 

    Too many clothes, we decide, so we pull the whole lot out and start sorting things to put the quicker drying types together; return in 45 minutes to pull out the “done” things and add the next level; repeat all this too many times to discuss.  At one point we bring a pile of clothes to the cabin and hang damp tops in every portal and clear off the desk to lay down socks in jigsaw puzzle fashion.  By night we have walked up and down the stairs from F to D deck at least a dozen times and decide that most of our clothes are dry or will be by morning.

    The red marks that appeared on my white pants as they came out of the washing machine eventually got washed out by hand.  One of a pair of socks and a once white micro-fiber hair-dryer turban are now grey, and one of Rob’s shirts has drop marks along the shoulder as if spattered with bleach.  The white pants dried with more wrinkles than one could imagine so they got folded up nice and tight and placed under everything in the drawer – the traveler’s best pressing method. On second thought, they might have done better under the mattress.

    Dead in the water is a scary sensation

    About halfway to Auckland, we sat in place nearly all day. At least this made the stair trekking easier.  We will start moving around 10:00 p.m. because, for security purposes, they keep the ship moving at night. We have been told to expect to slow down again tomorrow as we still need to “lose” about 10 hours.  The weather around New Zealand, apparently, is not so good, so it makes a lot of sense for us to sit here instead of to move closer and then stall in choppy seas as we wait for our previously booked arrival time.

    Back to today, after b-fast we sat in the room a bit and decided to go walking. We stopped to see if Joan would like to join us…she does.  The three of us go outside from her deck (E) and see Dave, who is sitting outside his door on D Deck, reading a book.  He joins us for a bit on the bow; we stop to stare and gaze into the distance every so often as if there is something to see that wasn’t there yesterday and the day before.  There isn’t.  But wait – a bird flies by; one of those white ones.  It never even thinks to fly over to us, for a rest on this floating island, but just keeps on flying.

    Eventually we wound ourselves around to portside and clambered up the outside stairs to the bridge where we were granted permission to go in and gaze from that higher level – seven stories up.   We look at the charts again:  yes, we are below the Equator and see that we have passed Christmas Island too far to the west to be seen.  The Officer on Duty says he is charting a course to put us close enough to Starbuck Island so that we will be able to see it – around noon.  Our current course would put us at 15 miles east, so the change will let us drift a bit more westerly so we’ll be about 5 miles east.

    We all get excited and run downstairs to our cabins to get refreshed so we can be at lunch right away at 11:30 a.m. so we’ll have plenty of time to eat.  This is a good thing because the sun is baking us, 45 SPF or not.   My hair was looking like Shirley Temple’s in this heat. For the first time ever, I woke every morning with a riot of curls: the waves have given over to the climate.

    Lunch is good, again.  A lot of people wondered what the food would be like so we feel the need to record our meals:  asparagus soup followed by Chicken Fricassee, boiled potato, cauliflower and a side plate of sliced papaya.  With the exception of the now famous broiled tuna that looked and acted like beef jerky, the food has been very good.  Dave doesn’t show up right away and he hadn’t joined us on the bridge earlier, so Rob went to let him know about Starbuck Island.  By 11:50, Joan was worried that if we didn’t run upstairs fast, we’d sail past the island and miss the whole thing.  Did we mention the effects of cabin fever?

    Land, land! Starbuck Island, Kiribati

    No problem.  Around noon, we go up and there it is – Starbuck Island – off the starboard bow to the west.  We check the reference book – already old, as it was printed in 1982 by the Director of Hydrography – and it is 12 miles long and 15 feet (5 meters) at its highest point.  There is a stone building or two, some vegetation and a black barrel to mark one of the two places you can land – if the winds are just right, as explained in the book.

    At first, all we saw was a white line across the horizon that looked a lot like the spots we’d seen before when the sun broke through a set of clouds in the distance and made a spot on the ocean.  Slowly we approach and more definition appears; the Officer on Duty shares the binoculars and, BOOM, we can clearly see the waves crashing over the north and south ends of the island, the tower which must be the stone building and a black spot. 

    It was that spot that brought us back to the book to read again about the safe landing spot.  What amazes us the most?  Hard to tell if it is the thought that anyone bothered to cart stone to this place and construct a building, or that a black barrel, placed in 1977, can still be sighted and hasn’t either eroded or simply been washed out to sea.

    We all linger for some time; Dave and Rob making jokes about the inhabitants of the island – while we closed the gap and could see more clearly.  Today this is a wildlife refuge under the Kiribati Government’s protection.  None of us has heard of the Kiribati, but we’ll look it up when ashore.  Apparently there is no fresh water, but there is some brackish stuff from guano diggers’ holes and portulaca plants abound. 

    Guano diggers; doesn’t that beat all?  Someone came out here to pick up bird poop?  Now that may be the most amazing thing of all.  It must be very colorful when the portulaca bloom, but we cannot see that; we just see green and what appears to be one stand of trees – more than a dozen, a bit south of the mid-point.

    This is sad, how excited we are to see this spit of land, and a testament to the fact we have been out here on this water for a full week.  We see the little white birds flitting around and there was one larger bird earlier today.  The large bird itself wasn’t too big but his wings were really quite long – enough to see the articulated wing structure like a bat’s: /\/\o/\/\ – he soared alongside, catching the ship’s draft. 

    Eventually we started drifting back westward to our course; we watch Starbuck Island recede before heading back to the room.  Standing out on the top deck in the noonday sun is brutal.  We need water and AC to recoup.  After yesterday’s fiasco, we’ve decided to do some hand laundry every other day, so we take the time for that and to sort through some digital photos.

    Cloud watching is something to do on a freighter

    One evening, just SSW of Starbuck Island, I spent a good half hour watching the sun set while Rob was down in the conference room sorting through possible movie options with Dave and Joan.  Not yet fully dark, I took a series of pictures, all the while wondering if I’d have the words to adequately describe what I just witnessed.

    How elusive:  a cloud, a sunset, viewed from a moving ship is a rapidly changing vision.  Even now the bands of feathers overhead have suddenly turned pink bottomed; as the sun dips below the horizon, its rays now projecting up over the sky in front of us.  No pun intended, but watercolors must be the medium to ever approximate this beauty.  The deep navy blue water seems to be topped by flaming sprinkles of glitter.

    At first, a random placement of small, spotty clouds stretching above the horizon, some six to seven miles from our forward looking portals.  The sun at about one o’clock, to the right, was behind one of the biggest clouds in the sky, but still above the horizon.  That cloud looked like a cat on a rug, holding a stuffed mouse toy between its front legs.  It won’t show well in the photo, but the picture is snapped anyway because we need a way to at least activate the memory some other day.  At 7:45, the sky is red-gray and stunning in its intensity.

    The first thing that caught the eye was how the bottom line of the clouds seems to have been created by a thumb, swiping from left to right across the canvass, to create the sharp line of horizon and provide a misty space below flat-bottomed clouds.  There are probably four or five small round clouds directly in front, moving like little tin soldiers to the right and the long-cat cloud.  The clouds overhead are a flurry of feathers, dusted on for effect.

    The ship chugs on…not fast as we are still marking time; maybe 10-15 knots (still novice guessers but after a week we feel we at least are confident enough to guess).  The sun seems to move down as it is watched – now between the stuffed toy and the cat’s mouth.  Suddenly the big cloud is a gigantic luminary as the sun becomes a bright orange bulb, backlighting the cloud that is the centerpiece of this stunning sunset.  The colors are exactly like the ones on the Luminary Tulips at the New York Botanical Garden in May 2004.

    Closer we charge and the colors change, cat is morphed into blob, but this does not diminish the view.  It is a new painting now.  No less beautiful for its change of composition.

    The sun dips to the horizon and below and it is not long before the feathers of our night sky seem painted by a pink brush.  Bands of water-painted pink feathers hover over dark deep navy shimmers.  Twenty minutes from light grey to pink and then, BOOM: the sky is red. 

    The whole sky appears on fire with bands of red and grey with dark grey clouds floating in front for definition; seemingly strategically placed to give perspective to this meager human eye.  The camera cannot record this although we try.  Just as we try to write down what we saw, despite how the words fail to do it justice.  It is moments like this that we can only hope to commit the sight to some storage cell in the brain to be available at some future day as a memory of a journey, once taken, unfolds.

    An hour later we are in the Conference Room trying to watch “LA Confidential” on the TV (tape, of course).  Romeo, the ship’s electrician wanted this picture instead of “The Full Monty” and we’d seen that anyway.  It makes Dave laugh to realize the tough LA cop is Russell Crowe – a countryman of his.  Now mesmerized by the rocking of the ship and the movie plot, the four passengers of the “CP Tui” smile as Romeo falls into a gentle sleep on the couch. 

    Another day, it seems, is over. As the Captain announced at dinner, “the clocks will be retarded one hour at midnight,” tomorrow will dawn under a different time zone as we march ever westward; but gently so, for in truth, our course is still SSW.

    The Captain gave us a surprise today. We got Equatorial Baptism Certificates.  It seems that Neptune gave us new names:  Rob is now Flipper and Marilyn is Sea Nymph.  Right!

    10-11-05 (Tuesday) – We never got Monday, October 10!!  Because the ship marked the crossing of the International Dateline at midnight, we skipped Monday entirely and went back another hour, all at midnight.  This surely messes with your head.

    10-13-05 (Thursday) – We are here…sitting outside the harbor at 4:30 a.m., waiting for the pilot to arrive and steer us in to Auckland, New Zealand.  He isn’t expected until five o’clock and they don’t expect to start off-loading until seven or so, but we’ll go down for b-fast and then off with Dave.  He has graciously offered to give us a thumb up or down about the location of whichever hotel we pick and to help Joan find a travel agent so she can make some arrangements for leaving Australia.   We try to go back to sleep.

    ***

    The phone ringing at seven o’clock wakes us up.  The customs and immigration men are in the Conference Room across from the Officer’s Mess.  We, of course, are not even dressed, much less packed, but we say we’ll be right there and toss on something fast, run a brush over our hairs and head down.  So odd to have such personalized service – just as Dave and his process is a tad different since he is returning home after six weeks.  Then again, he can’t be bringing in much, because these guys never stay long enough in any port to buy much!

                We fill out the forms, the immigration fellow asks how long we intend to stay and we answer, a month.  He gives us the standard three months allotted to tourists and we tell him that Dave has told us that, after seeing New Zealand, we’d soon tire of Australia and want to come back, so we might need that extra time.  They laughed; they liked that one – quite a rivalry there, between the two countries.

    __________________________

    General Freighter Travel Issues . . .

    Good health is a requirement for anyone interested in freighter travel.  Freighter companies insist that potential passengers provide documentation attesting to their good health and ability to deal with known medical conditions as well as purchase evacuation insurance to cover the cost of being removed from a ship at sea.  After all, these working vessels have no doctors on board and schedules to meet. 

                All application documents carry warnings about stairs and doors and being fit enough to travel.  It is readily apparent why, soon after you check in to your new accommodations.  Leaving the rocking and rolling motions aside, the tower stairs are steep and the steps themselves are narrow.  Our first introduction was from A Deck – five flights up:  yes, up six steps, three steps around, up six steps, three steps around, up six steps and repeat and repeat and … you get the idea.  For us, we are grateful meals are on B deck and only four flights down and back up those three times a day.  As to the doors, the stairwell doors have some form of hydraulic thing that keeps them shut – and makes them hard to open.  Marilyn has to lean hard to open the door into the stairwell and then brace against the railing to pull it open when in the stairwell. 

                As to the issue of knees, understand that the prohibition against passengers who have had knee surgery is not an unfounded bias.  Besides the steep step issue, the ship rocks gently, port to starboard, left to right, for most of the trip.  At night, with our bed being parallel to the sides of the ship, it was like being in a cradle, the gentle rocking is soothing.  On your feet, however, you soon learn (instinctively more than consciously) that you are most steady when facing fore or aft.  The side-to-side rolling is absorbed by your knees playing shock absorber.  If you stand facing the side of the ship, that same gentle roll forces you up on your toes and then heels and that is not an easy motion.  Try it.  Stand with your legs about shoulder width apart – lean gently left about 3-4 inches and then right 3-4 inches and repeat.  Your legs compensate and, as you teeter-tauter back and forth, one knee bends while the other extends.  Now try doing the same rolling motion but from front to back.  Can’t do it without moving your feet; you tip over.  This whole sensation didn’t really dawn on us until we got far enough south that we started moving more West and/or hit a different current about two days out of Auckland.  All of a sudden the swells were running straight on at us and the ship started pitching instead of rolling:  prow up, prow down – and we all were lurching around.  We had to learn to turn our bodies 90 degrees; to face either side of the ship so we could go back to that gentle rocking motion.

    The physical layout of the “CP Tui” must resemble most container ships, so the description should start below deck.  The belly of the ship contains the engines and lots and lots of cargo all housed in cargo containers that look like boxcars and are made to fit on train carriers.  These giant metal boxes we see on the “Tui” are called hi-cube containers: 40’ long and 9.5’ high, they each hold 58,000 pounds and have a tare weight of another 9,150 pounds.  The ship’s holds are giant rectangular holes, just big enough to fit the length of a container and separated from port to starboard by vertical pieces of steel positioned precisely to form open slots into which the containers are positioned, one atop the other.  The container port’s giant cranes pick a container up off a truck, swing it over the hold, and slowly lower it down between the slots; each box has corner pieces that allow the one on top to slot into the one below, etc. Sometimes two shorter containers appear; they neatly fit atop a 40’ one.  In the hold immediately beneath our portals we watched last night as they lowered three open containers (solid platform and end pieces) at the top of three separate stacks, each holding one large camper trailer.  We expect this inside storage place will afford some protection against the corrosive nature of sea salt.

                When a hold is full – the one immediately below our tower holds eight wide and six deep – the cranes pick up the removable steel covers and swing them into place.  It takes three pieces to cover the one hold immediately below us; guessing, we’d say they must be at least 40’ by 40’ and maybe 2’ thick.  Once those are all set, they load cargo on top of what we land lovers used to think was “the deck” but now know is simply a canopy some 8’-10’ above the walkway around the sides of the ship.  The crew quickly add metal braces that X-back and forth to hold the bottom level or two in place.  Depending on how high a stack is directly in front of the tower, the containers may block any forward view for those living on the lower levels.  As some of these are working refrigerated units, they can also be noisy if just outside your portal window.  After the ship is loaded, anyone walking around the Upper Deck may think it is a covered walk, but if you look up you soon realize you are looking at the bottom of the end containers.  A very unnerving feeling, that!  The “Tui” carries 12 containers across, mid-ship, and we marvel that these ships float at all, given what must be the total weight which we cannot calculate.

                The Tower is the large, solid structure you see on container ships that sits more aft than forward and is more building-like in appearance.  That is because the tower houses the living quarters as well as general use areas such as the galley, conference and recreation rooms.  It is topped by the enclosed bridge just under an open deck roof top.  We are quartered in the Owner’s Cabin on F Deck; a two-room suite just under the bridge, mid-ship, flanked by the Captain on one side and the Chief Officer on the other.  The inside tower stairwell, runs from A to F Deck, but across the hall from our door is an open inside stairway that leads to the bridge. 

                As you enter the suite, there is a sitting area with two couches and a coffee table; several coat hooks on the wall at the left before the door to the bedroom.  Passing by that door is a sideboard with storage and a moderately large apartment-sized frig below a long counter;  a plug-in pot to heat water and a basket of packaged teas and coffees and related condiments – all across from a long desk with an executive chair firmly bolted to the floor and a couple of typical office chairs for visitors.  The furniture has the clear lines of Danish modern (how old is that, these days?); utilitarian, but utterly appropriate looking.  Draperies with tie backs can be closed at night (we later learn that non-passenger ships cover windows at night to facilitate identification by other, passing ships – they all triangulate size and distance using the other ship’s running lights – so they close up portal windows to avoid confusing each other by having additional lights showing.

                The adjoining room has a large closet and dresser at one end, a private bathroom and a box bed with nightstand.  Did we mention yet how incredibly hard the bed is?  It is incredibly hard.  Marilyn has bruises on her knees from peering out to watch the container loading operation and sore hip bones from sleeping on her side too long.  After a few days of experimenting with folding a blanket to put under the sheet, Rio brings us another blanket and that does the trick:  we are now sleeping on about eight layers of blanket between the mattress and our bottom sheet. 

    Amenities are few and far between.  There is a pool, but none of us can imagine swimming in it; virtually a 10’ to 12’ square hole we walked past as we came out of the engine room tour one day.  We laughed about it as visions of sea water sloshing back and forth in this hole, hit us all at once.  No thanks.  There is a recreation room, ping-pong for the crew, library/conference room for the officers and passengers with a TV that can be shared to watch any one of a large and dreadful collection of videos that are available (lots of martial arts films and a couple of movies we might be cajoled into seeing again).  Our advice to future freighter travelers is to bring along DVDs of your favorite movies and don’t rely upon the ship’s film library.  Most of the movie selection seemed to have been purchased by young crew members from the knock-off vendors around the wharfs and the quality was sadly lacking.  Anyone from the U.S. or Canada could buy second hand movies at garage sales and leave them on board to improve the quality and give some variety to the selection.  It would be a nice donation and we were sorry we didn’t bring some, ourselves.

                With the exception of the one night we watched the movie, we generally stayed in our cabin – the first week we were tired from driving that 5,000 miles that got us to Long Beach and the second we spent a great deal of time on the computer, reviewing our pictures and doing journal entries and making sure they conform.  This is the fun part for Marilyn, the publication manager in her emerges from hibernation and she fondly remembers Peg Albright who was the best copy editor Marilyn ever worked with.  Although no longer with us, to this day, Peg often sits on Marilyn’s shoulder to caution against careless cross-referencing.

    ***

    Food, food, food:  what’s it like?  We get asked about food in foreign places a lot so we think about how to answer.  The food is the same but different.  The menu varied, but it usually included eggs to order for breakfast and often some accompaniment like blueberry pancakes or bacon or crepes or sausages or Hawaiian toast.  There was always a carafe of lukewarm coffee on the table along with assorted breads and cold cuts.  We poured our own juice and we could pick what kind of egg we wanted, if any.  Marilyn quickly became addicted to one of the dark multi-grained breads; just put a slice or two on a side plate and handed it to the Steward and he toasted it up.  On the sideboard, we could choose from a number of dried cereals – corn flakes, muesli kind of thing and there were usually small containers of yoghurt.  Everyone ate some variation and amount without notice.  The bacon, by the way, is not American bacon; no one else in the world eats what Americans call bacon.  What they do eat isn’t really Canadian bacon either, although that would be a closer description.

                Lunch was typically a big meal in that it was often soup followed by a meat, potato and vegetable dish – not surprising for a working ship whose Captain is Polish.  Besides, it is healthier to eat your calories before you need them instead of skimping all day and then pigging out at night.

                Dinner was often like lunch, only a bit less – maybe.  It just seemed that if there were to be a lighter textured meal, it would be the later and not the earlier one.  Despite warnings to the contrary, there were desserts – sometimes cakes, once a plate of cookies and frequently, fruit.  We were welcome to take an extra piece back to our rooms for a late night snack if we wanted. 

                We also had the best salads; we couldn’t figure out how the Cook kept the lettuce so fresh, but we often had a bowl of lettuce with slivers of red and orange pepper and sweet onion and cucumber on the sideboard. Everyone serves themselves and picks a dressing from the condiment tray on the table.  The selection of dressings was not large – a real salad aficionado might want to bring their own to share for the voyage.  Not to be forgotten:  most meals also included soup – really nice ones for the most part. 

                The thing about food on a freighter is that you can’t go hungry and you shouldn’t worry about the variety – we had roast chicken, roast pork, broiled T-bone steak, beef stew, broiled fish (okay, that wasn’t Cook’s best showing, but who likes fish anyway) and these meals were often accompanied by potatoes and rice – even a nice risotto one night.  And the cold cut plate was always there if you just wanted a soup and sandwich. Whatever we didn’t finish went on out to the crew’s mess and was added to their meals (which were the same as ours).  So any leftover cold cuts or desserts were available for them to snack on, too.

    A freighter isn’t a cruise ship, as all the literature clearly states.  On our voyage, the ship was having a problem with water pressure.  We knew that as soon as we boarded, from the answer we got to our first question (why is there a five-gallon pail in the bathroom?):  so we could flush the toilet.  This would not be considered anywhere near adequate to many people we know, but it really wasn’t a problem for us.  Heck, the thing worked just fine – we just filled the bucket about half way from the shower nozzle and then dumped water into the toilet and, voila, it flushed.

                Then there were the snippets of conversation among the officers over meals and it turned out they had detected that they were losing water from somewhere and were busy trying to locate the problem.  Fresh water is a premium at sea and they could not let a leak continue.  Just as we had experienced when we had a water leak in our condo, it isn’t always obvious where the problem lies, so they did a series of turning off the waters for extended amounts of time – first one part of the ship and then another. 

                All this activity was comforting to us, but it can be alarming to others.  We both are trouble-shooter types of people who understand what it is like for a team of professionals to discuss a situation, play the “what if” game, make a  plan and then go through the often tedious, step-by-step process of honing down on exactly what is wrong and where.  There are alarm panels in all the public areas of the ship as well as an internal phone system so that officers can be contacted immediately if they are needed or if any sensor indicates a problem or potential problem.  We both felt comforted by their notification system and were not alarmed when one went off in the mess and the Electrician or Second Engineer had to leave.  Joan, the academician, however, found this all troubling as she didn’t understand what was going on.  We didn’t understand the precise problem either, but we understood the process and didn’t feel we needed to know the precise problem.

                Security is always an issue for the Captain.  In port, all doors leading to the Tower are locked so that access is only allowed through the portside A Deck door by the Ship’s Office.  Although we joked about pirates, there are pirates off the coast of Africa and in some places in Asia and the crew is careful.  They are not alarmists, but the take the kind of precautions every passenger should appreciate. 

                One of the ancillary benefits to freighter travel is that you do get to share time with the officers.  Not all of them speak fluent English, but that is not a huge problem.  It is only fair for passengers to remember that these men are all working on board and it isn’t fair to hammer them with operational questions at every meal.  Instead, it presents you with the opportunity to learn about their homelands, their families.  We had several discussions over dinner that included everyone and it was most enjoyable.  It’s fun to know how other people live and love, as it were.

                Politics and religion are two very delicate topics and people should be careful not to speak for their entire country when espousing their sentiments.  Better yet, don’t go there.  There are many forms of governments and economic systems in this world and some are better at some things than others, but none is infallible.  European nations have national laws, so we had an interesting discussion one night when discussing the different laws/penalties in different states in the U.S.  To an Eastern European especially, our system seems very cumbersome – “it would be hard for people to know what was allowed and what was not.”  We agreed (:>) that sometimes this was a problem but we lost it when we tried to explain it is more a problem of understanding the consequences of an action, than an action itself, since that is where the most difference occurs – every state has laws against murder, for instance, but each state has a different set of laws as to what to do with someone if convicted of murder.   But then, how many Americans can grasp the English parliament system of government – where opposing parties get together and form alliances after elections, based on which party gets more votes. 

                Overall, it was a great learning experience and one that you cannot get on a cruise ship where people come to overeat and party.

  • Legacy


    Legacy

    All we want is for you to be happy, so
                go to school
                get a job
                earn a living
                be the best at everything.
                Always look good,
                never cry,
                be successful,
                earn lots of money.
                Be bright,
                be witty,
                make us proud,
                do as we say.
     
    Just be happy, that’s all we want for you, so
                don’t be moody,
                don’t be angry,
                don’t be selfish,
                don’t fail.
                Don’t ever make waves,
                don’t be sad,
                don’t feel that way,
                do as we say.
     
    After all, we want you to be happy.
    
    By Marilyn Paluszak

    For every parent of a teenager … this is what your child is hearing from you. As if the pressure to measure up to your Great Expectations are not sufficient. Your child’s happiness should not be measured by your qualifiers.


    
    
  • RECAP: Driving across the United States as the first chapter of our RTW journey


    New Hampshire to California, Fall 2005


    Part 1 Even a 400-day journey needs a start date

    Part 2 Traveling west across the United States; Albany (New York) to Joliet (Illinois)

    Part 3 Two cities, twice the fun: Chicago and Minneapolis

    Part 4 South Dakota: From the Prairie to the Palace

    Part 5 South Dakota: The Badlands National Park is a Must See

    Part 6 South Dakota: Spectacular Crazy Horse, the Black Hills and Mount Rushmore

    Part 7 South Dakota: Crystal Caves and Bear Country USA led the way to Wyoming

    Part 8 Wyoming: Spectacular Beauty in Every Direction, including a cattle drive

    Part 9 Utah: Zion National Park

    Part 10 Destination Long Beach with a stop in Las Vegas


    photo-night-view-container-port-long-beach
    photo-tracer-with-sign
    photo-rob-at-laptop
    photo-dinky-helps

    Driving across the United States was a great way to see parts of the country we only flew over in the past. We learned a lot by taking an entire month to decompress and enjoy some of the lesser known places of interest as well as some of areas we had been told not to miss.

    We have driven more than 4,700 miles and still have errands to attend to before leaving. It is Monday and we got the call that the ship was making good time and we need to be ready to board at 8:00 p.m. on Wednesday.

    With only two days left, we need to do something about the car. Fast!  Rob talked to the motel’s day manager, asking about used car lots and such, and he says he knows of someone who might be interested in a car, someone who needs one to get to work.  The two of us discuss this alone and agree what to do. Later, when the man says that actually, he would be interested in buying the car – to give to his sister – we say, in unison, “That’s great, but let us give it to her.” 

    He is amazed, but we let him know we were looking to donate the car to someone in need and if his sister, who has recently come to the area from the Midwest, needs a vehicle to get to work, we will be happy to give her one.  We explain the car’s foibles but acknowledge that, for all its drawbacks, it has just brought us across country.  He makes arrangements to have his sister come look at the car and we head off for a walk to get acclimated a bit before catching up with nephew, Eric, who is expecting us.

    Just as we said farewell to our NY family when we left, it was fun to have the opportunity for a quick hello and a celebratory dinner with my nephew, Eric, in Long Beach on the night before leaving on the freighter for New Zealand. It was especially fun to watch the far off lights of freighter traffic coming and going from the port.

    On Tuesday, we ended up putting another 120 miles on the car to pick up our freighter tickets in Silverado, at another General Delivery drop.  The travel people where none too sure about this because they are used to sending things to people’s homes, but we picked this town because it (A) had a post office and (B) it was a tiny circle on the map, meaning it would have only one post office.  Eric had never even heard of Silverado and thinks we are nuts, but he travels so much we didn’t know if he’d even be in CA when we arrived so it was safer this way and it would provide a nice ride around sunny California.

    The ride, in fact, turned out to be interesting as Silverado is in a canyon (or is a canyon?). Not dramatically scenic, but pleasant.  We got to the Post Office at 1:55 p.m. to stand in a line of two people and are then informed that General Delivery pick-ups are not available until 2:30 – or at the very least, 2:15.  Okay, is there some place nearby we could get lunch, perhaps, while we wait?  Oh, and could we have some tape to seal this box, perhaps?  Only if we are shipping it Priority Mail; otherwise we can buy a roll for some three bucks.  Hmm…not quite as friendly to foreigners out here in the boonies of California as the postmistress in Jean, Nevada, we’re thinking, until we are informed it is Taco-Tuesday at the Café across the street.  

    So we help another patron corral a few things into a box and saunter across for tacos.  Now this is where the hospitality abounds.  Tuesday Tacos come for $1 each and we split a bunch and gobble down some of the typical stuff; talk travel with the waitress (owner maybe?) when we told her why were in the café — and before we know it, it is 2:30.  Rob ran across the street to the Post Office, and came back with our tickets.  Another couple had arrived by then and it turned out they are travelers too, so we all enjoyed a rousing talk about travel and were speeded on our way with much well wishing.  That other patron, by the way, says the Silverado Café serves a delicious steak, so we put it on our list of things to do on another trip.

    Back in town, we again spend the evening with dinner before packing it in … it has been a long day and tomorrow we’ll be embarking on one of the ships in the harbor.  We can hardly believe it has finally happened and everything is falling into place so nicely.  Lizbeth has seen the car and is happy to have it, so we make all the arrangements to turn over the papers tomorrow at noon and her younger brother will drive us to the Guard Shack so we don’t need to get a cab.  These are nice people and so we go to sleep happy and excited, both.

    Our brush with California Law and Order

    Wednesday, at 3:33 a.m.: There is a bright red light flashing between the drawn drapes of our ground floor motel room.  Just as I said, “I think there are cops outside,” there was a loud THUNK-THUNK-THUNK. Three raps on OUR door and a voice saying, “Police.” 

    We have seen “COPS” one too many times, apparently. If anyone could have seen us, they’d say our eyes were “as big as saucers,” for sure.  We both frantically fumble for clothes and Rob calls out, “Give us a minute to dress.”  Ever the cautious one, I said to Rob with hand on doorknob, “Of course, we are assuming it really is the police,” so he pulls the drape back a bit and we are eyeball-to-eyeball with one of Long Beach’s finest and see two police cars, blocking the motel exit.  This guy at our door is straight out of the TV show:  dressed in dark navy or black, he is all beef and ready for whatever might pounce on him in the night.

    We crack open the door and the officer says, “We have just arrested a young woman and she says her boyfriend, Darnell, lives here, in apartment 110,” pointing to our room number on the door.  We, in comic unison, move our eyes to the right as he points to the numbers and then to the left six inches, to stare at the glass-enclosed, well-lighted motel office lobby just across the drive from us, and then back to the cop and say, “This is a motel room.”

    “So,” he persists, “you saying you don’t know Darnell?”  In unison, we reply, “No. This is a motel room.”  I admit to being the dramatic one, so I’m thinking this fellow could be straight out of Central Casting and this is practically LA – we don’t want any TV show antics here.  Not to be deterred, the cop tries again, “So, how long have you been living here?” 

    Okay, it clearly is time to clarify the situation and one more round of “this is a motel room” won’t do.  “We are from Albany, New York. We arrived two days ago to wait for our ship to come in” (ignoring the fact that is considered a trite phrase by some grammar checkers and simultaneously pointing to the right and the harbor lights behind the cars in the lot), “and we will be leaving for New Zealand by noon.”  It was only when pointing to the harbor that we turn enough to see the second officer standing in the shadows to the right of the door.  He gave a very slight nod which, we later believe was an indication he had seen our car in the lot before they had knocked – the one with the New York plates and the sign saying we were moving to Manchester by going west, around the world.

    The more senior officer, the one who had questioned us, said he hoped we understood they needed to follow-up on their case; we said, no problem; and we all bid each other good night.  Now our goal was to try to go back to sleep! 

    Some five hours later, we sit in the morning sun on Ocean Boulevard in front of a café with free, wireless access.  A panhandler alias vagrant was standing here as we arrived.  Apparently one of the young women who staff the place had called for assistance, because a Long Beach cop was there, as well, although he moved off to the side to speak on a cell phone.

    There was no confrontation, as the panhandler had moved back toward the sidewalk, obviously aware of, and not wishing to test his legal limits.  As the waitress delivered our bagels to a table about three feet from the fellow, she had said something, very quiet, like “leave these people alone” and then just turned and left.  She practically skipped back into the café because someone had actually heeded HER warning. 

    The cop went inside, they spoke a bit and he left.  This was no night-cop, all muscle and beef.  This was the day-cop: the 6’2” eyes-of-blue cop, dressed in a crisp white shirt and blue Bermuda shorts and – we kid you not – motoring away on a bicycle.  What a difference a few hours make in downtown Long Beach!

    Back to our new reality we actually begin our journey across the Pacific

    We were packed and delivered to the Guard Shack around 1:30 p.m.  We had no idea how long a drive it is or if we’ll have to wait for a shuttle (we don’t) but we surely did not want to be the ones to be holding anyone up.  It is fine…we have plenty of time and are allowed to board the “CP Tui” immediately. 

    All told, we drove nearly 4,900 miles. And we toured five museums, saw four national forests and parks, and drove two of the most scenic routes in the United States. Not bad for the first month!

  • Binary Man


    It has simplified my life and calmed my mind to live with a binary man. So much more peaceful.


    
    
    Binary Man
     
    Binary man
    sees naught
    but ones
    and zeros
    which really
    ought to be
    enough,
    he thinks.
     
    No if/then
    charts for this
    man of
    either or,
    in or out.
    Bring in and
    take out
    are one
    in the same.
     
    Life is
    simple and
    free of burdens
    of chaotic
    numbers and
    choices too
    numerous
    to count.
     
    Eat in she says
    and being
    binary and
    not contrary
    he replies,
    bring in or
    eat what’s here?
    
    -By Marilyn Paluszak
    Binary-joke-there-are-only-10-kinds-of-people-in-the-world-those-who-understand-binary-and-those-who-dont.
  • Pinky Girl

    Pinky Girl
    
    It’s a tepid color really. 
    Surely not an emotional banner
    to wave about one’s head;
    capable of warding off chills and evil people.
     
    How can pink be a true reflection of the Girl?
    For her, pink seems to be too pale a color;
    incapable of reflecting the ruby within her soul,
    the passionate pomegranate ready to burst.
     
    Pink is but a ghost of the blush that betrays her moods.
    Alone, pink barely seems to do her justice. Except it is a pleasing choice 
    for a floppy hat or mittened scarf.
     
    Girl thinks in more robust colors that bolster her thoughts.
    She is, after all, in the pink of perfection, is she not?
    Of late she often takes on a rosy disposition;
    has even cast off her tinted glasses.
     
    Although she does think in jagged edges, all ins and outs,
    about every situation as she cuts through life.
    Maybe someday she’ll sail a pinque,
    to Poland and let them call her Pinkie.
    
    by Marilyn Paluszak
    
    photo-pinque

    photo-pink-hat
    Pink was a fly magnet in Southern Australia along the Great Ocean Highway.

    Paluszak in Polish is derived from “mały palec” – little finger. I extrapolated that to mean pinky or pinkie. Is that poetic license?


  • Destination Long Beach with a stop in Las Vegas


    Driving across the United States

    PART 10: Rapid City to Long Beach with a stop at Las Vegas for a trip down memory lane


    photo-AZ-flatland-sagebrush
    photo-AZ-roadside-brush-mountains-in-the-distance
    photo-AZ-roadside-sagebrush-mountains-sky

    With our destination of Long Beach clearly in our sites, we couldn’t not stop in Las Vegas first for at least a night or two. It is hard for us to believe it has been 14 years since we were married there. But then again, as the miles on this road trip quickly churn away, we are amazed this part of our round the world journey will be over soon.

    I think most people think of Hoover Dam and Lake Mead as a day trip from Las Vegas. Coming from the north via car, though, it was simply a matter of stopping along the road. Interstate-15 took us through a short bit of Arizona and then on into Nevada. There is a 3,845 foot drop in elevation from beginning to end of our day.

    It is a very impressive and quite beautiful drive although there is no place to pull over and snap a picture.  Actually, it is kind of scary at times with all the wind warnings and trucks barreling along, as everyone is loath to give up the 75 mph speeds, despite the turns and grades.  It is almost with a sigh of relieve that you get propelled out of this and find yourself on the Nevada flats.”

    Journal entry 008, September 19-21, 2005

    Back roads are fun roads

    Choosing a back road so we could meander, we gradually loop down and over to Lake Mead and Hoover Dam.  We stopped to take a quarter mile walk just to look off into the distance — as if driving through this bleak countryside isn’t enough.  The charred remains of a burnt car at a pull-off was a ghostly reminder that driving in the desert can be hazardous to vehicles as well as people.  Our old Tracer is still getting us from place to place which is our miracle. The sun is so bright and everything is so dry. It seems like another miracle to find scattered colors growing amongst the stone. 

    We stopped another time to take a closer look at a red rock outcropping in the distance. It seems to have been plopped down on Earth like a meteorite falling out of the sky. It surely looks misplaced. Considering that dinosaurs where known to wander these western desert lands, I mused about the exact consistency of the plop.  

    There was an unoccupied vehicle parked nearby and we wondered that anyone could have walked so far as to not be visible. Then a van arrived as we continued to peer at rocks and “stuff” we cannot identify, and we laughed. Three vehicles seemed like a veritable traffic jam for this place in the middle of nowhere.

    Hoover Dam and Lake Mead

    As our lonesome back road meshed back onto the highway, we found ourselves in a real traffic jam. Every vehicle was going through the security checkpoint, to gain access to the Hoover Dam interpretive center, gift shop and lunch – and then take the time to go on a tour of the dam.  

    It was interesting to take the high-speed elevator and go down to the inside observation deck overlooking the turbines.  

    In another five years, the Interstate will take travelers over a new bridge and the top surface of the dam will no longer be used for vehicular traffic. None too soon, from the look of the traffic.  If only just 10 percent of the 38 million people who visit Las Vegas every year (c2005) take the side trip to see Hoover Dam, you begin to envision the crowds. 

    The traffic into Vegas is horrendous  

    From the somewhat elevated roadway of the interstate, we can see the roofs of houses stretching across the valley to the hills maybe some five miles away. It looks like someone thought they could create the illusion of desert turf if they used all the same roofing material.

    Going to timeshare presentations pays for our time 

    We woke on September 22, a day shy of four weeks after leaving New Hampshire. In exchange for listening to a time-share offer, we are in a one-bedroom suite with kitchenette, dining table, couches and chairs – even a hot tub off the bedroom.  This means we can make our breakfasts and, maybe, a meal or two.

    Lounging, we turned on the morning news and discovered that some of the traffic jam during our incoming ride last night was because of two accidents. A truck had jackknifed, dropping metal tubing at one of the exit ramps ahead of us that took time to clear.

    There had also been a terrible incident where someone drove into a crowd of people on the sidewalk, along the famous “Vegas Strip,” killing two tourists.  That is the kind of story that makes national news, so we quickly calculate the hour and call home to New York so mothers don’t have to worry about traveling children.

    Vegas is Vegas, only more so

    Either we were so intent on getting married all those years ago and didn’t notice anything else, or Las Vegas has grown to epic proportions. This visit it seems that huge crowds of people are everywhere. They are walking along The Strip and detouring in and out of the big-named hotel lobbies in an endless stream of humanity. 

    After all the wilderness and desert, it seems oppressive.  We decide not to purchase a time share (never happening to begin with), take the coupons provided for our time and cash two in for $40 at one casino and another $25 goes to defray the cost of dinner at a Benihana’s Steakhouse.

    We don’t, mind you, convert the coupons to tokens and blow them on a slot machine, or worse. Rob and I laugh that this is why we can afford to take a year and travel around the world.  Neither one of us will throw money away.

    Dinner was fun and great food.  We chatted with the couple to our right. It seems they come to Vegas from California at least four times a year and get “comped” for food and lodging because they play a lot of slots. 

    Afterward, Rob and I agreed we have seen the man someplace on TV or in movies. Not an A-list star but definitely one of those character actors you see but whose name you don’t know.  Someday we’ll be pointing to a screen, saying we had dinner with him once. 

    We could have asked, I suppose, but then how tiring must that get – people bothering you over dinners. We’d rather have had the conversation and relax with pleasant dinner companions.  

    US Postal Service General Delivery

    As those who travel by truck, motor coach or campers know, the way to receive mail when you have no physical address is to use the Postal Service’s General Delivery option. The only hitch is that you need to send your letter or package to a street address and not just “Post Office, Something-City.” Big cities, after all, have more than one post office.

    Since we have the time and it amused us, we asked Rob’s mother, Jean, to forward a package to Jean, Nevada, less than 30 miles from Las Vegas.

    Rob had already called to see if our package had arrived. The postmistress said, “Yes, but please know that the post office would be closed between noon and one o’clock and isn’t open on Saturdays.”  That meant Friday was Jean’s Day.

    We left Vegas on a Saturday and drove through the desert – again – to Ontario, California in the San Bernardino area.  Two nights at the Ontario Hilton provided more luxury. One last shopping trip to a mall and one last post office stop to send something and we were ready.

    Monday, September 26, we checked into a motel overlooking the Port of Long Beach. We are simultaneously excited and hesitant to realize the next big step in this journey is about to become our reality.

  • Rescue me

    
    
    
    
    

    See link below for the Fontella Bass, 1965 original song that so often runs through my head.

    Rescue me
    
    Quiet loneliness
    sits ’round the corner
    . . . ever lurking in the Dark.
     
    Oh, Silence,
    sometimes healing,
    sometimes scary.
    Are you friend or foe
    tonight?
     
    Shattered.
    Broken.
     
    Silence burst
    by jagged noise.
    A calling
    from another world.
     
    Lover, is that you?
    Are you there?
     
    Yes!  Friend tonight.
    You’re the blessed ringing
    in my ear.
    
    By Marilyn Paluszak
     

    Reprinted from a poem first drafted in 1986 and revised in 2011 … I cannot resist tweaking.


  • A Reading, Rewarded


    From a poem originally penned at the Florida Writers Association’s 2011 Awards Dinner as I watched a new author read from her first book.


    A Reading, Rewarded

    Words whipped left and right
    spoken aloud to still the fright
    they might waft away before the
    book could be deemed profound.
     
    It had been such a lengthy fight
    to reach this exalted height
    and gather strength and
    stand there, jeweled and gowned.
     
    Baring soul just to recite
    all the words of love and light
    that had erupted like
    a spring too tightly wound.
     
    Finally, pats on back that night
    announced the true delight
    echoed by this newborn fan
    that another laureate was crowned.
    
    By Marilyn Paluszak
    
    
  • Utah brings Zion National Park’s jagged edges to light


    Driving across the United States

    PART 9: Utah’s Zion National Park


    Utah
    Zion National Park in SW Utah

    Zion National Park is not big but it has a natural beauty that takes your breath away. This one has jagged canyon cliff edges that tower above you. In September, the Virgin River seems like a lazy creek by your feet as you crane your neck up to blue sky with puffy white clouds. Your eyes drink it in but our trusty little point and shoot camera will not do it justice. Certainly, our words cannot.


    We woke rested after another long day’s drive. At Cedar City, we are 250 miles south of Salt Lake City and 170 miles north of Las Vegas on Interstate 15; and just north of Zion National Park. No more Go West! for us because we are now solidly headed SSW toward California.

    Actually, the entrance to Zion is worthy of a few photo-ops, itself.

    With two nights booked for Cedar City we can relax. Our big morning decision was to enter Zion National Park from the east so we can make a giant loop. Forget SSW, we’ll go East first. Flexibility is our middle name.

    Zion National Park Shuttle Service

    To get acclimated and check out as much as possible, we took the shuttle that stopped at five or six spots not accessible any other way. Like a hop-on/hop-off city bus, you get off and on as desired.  We used the “go to the furthest spot first” tactic and rode along to a place where you can walk alongside the river for maybe half a mile or so and back. 

    Maybe it was the hot day or the crowds after being so alone in the mountains — or maybe it is the bus or the construction that had us stopped for 10-15 minutes at a time — or the narrow canyons or whatever, but I gave that part of the day a thumbs down. It was beautiful but brought on a major headache. Rob is more forgiving and voted thumbs up.

    If you don’t take the shuttle, you can drive. At first you share the road with shuttles but then the road veers off and you can take another path that is quite nice, too.  In fact, after we got back to the car, we did exactly that. Before going to any national park you should check out the current conditions at National Park Service.

    Driving through Zion is a trip in itself

    Certainly, the geology of Zion is quite remarkable and we both really enjoyed the drive in and out, as we proceeded via our own car.  There was one section where we looked up and there was a hole in the mountainside. Honest, this “hole” was surrounded by sculpted concrete like a cement balcony wall at the bottom and open on top, looking into the mountain, feet above anything. It appeared to us that there was no conceivable way to get near. 

    Some time later we rounded a turn, entered a tunnel and – voila – the “balcony” became an air and light shaft running parallel to the road through the tunnel.  Further on, there was one spot where the face of the rock looks like a checkerboard!  Really steep and narrow bits of road and you need to keep your wits about you as you drive on some spots.

    The spectacular scenery doesn’t stop outside the park

    When near the end of the road, just before we hit the north-south road that is beyond Zion and runs roughly parallel to the Interstate, we were treated to a fabulous view of a mesa (or butte?) that I recognized from posters – for some reason. The afternoon sun hit this just so, and the exposed white rock all along the top seems to float over the terrain below, with a mauve cushion separating the layers. 

    Further down the road we were treated to the single-most spectacular rainbow either of us has ever seen.  It had every color – red, orange, yellow, green, blue, violet – from one side to the other. Not just one end, either; we got to see both ends. And then a second ring began to show toward the north end.  We pulled over to gape and try taking photos only to realize everyone traveling this road has pulled off as well. It truly was a rare site to see such a spectacular rainbow.

    Eventually we started driving again, still thinking about the rainbow, when we saw our turnoff coming up on the left.  We had decided earlier that we’d take the less traveled bit to cut back west.  When you look at a map you are never sure what you’ll see along the way, just that it will get you from Point A to Point B.

    Double full rainbow.

    It turned out that our trip back to Cedar City was a bit like the drive through Wyoming – wild and beautiful and less traveled. Only this time we are treated to switchbacks and steep hills and drop-offs through canyons in the dark, as night seemed to descend too early. 

    Thank goodness for a moonlit night!

    No city or residential lights in a forest makes everything look eerie but the full moon peaked out to keep us company every so often. I couldn’t help look for a silhouette of a witch on a broomstick.  

    We were glad to have a home to go to by the time we returned to Cedar City. Both of us were tired after three solid days in the car. Today’s memories were great, though. What a fantastic variety of things we’ve seen. Tomorrow will bring us solidly back to civilization as we will zoom toward Lake Mead and Las Vegas in the morning.


    This post is one in a series that document our 400-day trip round the world (2005-2006). Each segment will be linked in at RTW.


  • Wyoming: Spectacular Beauty in Every Direction


    Driving across the United States

    PART 8: Wyoming and the Big Horn National Forest, Thermopolis and Shoshoni National Forest


    photo-rob-standing-by-sign-for-buffalo-wyoming
    Not so big as Buffalo, NY

    map-wyoming

    photo-snow-spots-on-distant-mountains
    Beautiful … what is it?
    sign-loaf-maountain-overlook
    An, finally an explanation.
    photo-zoom-sky-mountains-forest-trees
    Loaf Mountain

    At the Information Center as we crossed into Wyoming, the lone attendant — Kathleen — had been surprised we were not heading toward Sundance or Yellowstone National Park. When she heard we were heading to California she suggested a diagonal sort of drive that would let us get off the interstate system and provide a spectacular view of Wyoming. Who could pass that opportunity up, right?

    We said yes to the directions and headed straight to — Buffalo, for the night. Made us laugh to think we’ve driven so far, seen so much, and were going to a place named Buffalo. We needed a meal and a bed after a long day saying our goodbyes to South Dakota. Rob was not feeling well — too long a day? Altitude? Not sure, but a stop was all that was needed to put us both back to normal.

    Wyoming — the land of children’s fantasies about cowboys and living on the open range.  At the end of the day, we both wished we could go back and give Kathleen a giant hug because the 349-mile drive was spectacular. What a gift.

    For route plotters [and those looking for what is one of the most beautiful drives you can take in the United States, I’ll violate my usual rule and tell you the way to go in Wyoming. In all cases, the “S” with a route number does not indicate direction; it indicates a state route number. Starting in the NE, we took S16 West, going roughly southwest to Worland, through the Big Horn National Forest, then down to Thermopolis. From there, S20 goes due south to Shoshoni, where we hung a right on S26 to Riverton to catch up with 789 to Lander and S28, around the Shoshoni National Forest to our west – where we crossed the Continental Divide – and then, at Farson, we followed S191 to Rock Springs.”

    From our Journal, entry 007, Buffalo to Rock Springs

    Once again we found ourselves driving up and up. Although it has been thousands of miles since we left New Hampshire, we begin the day’s journey still east of the Continental Divide. The car is not young and we wonder if we will make this day’s journey and who would be around to “save us” if that were needed.

    Eventually we pulled off at a scenic overlook to find we are looking at Loaf Mountain.  The air is crisp here and the breezes are blowing strong.  Back in the car we rumble along as if we are the only people on Earth for most of the morning, stopping here and there for photos.  The Powder River Pass pull-off confirms our thoughts about elevation:  we are at 9,666 feet!  We are putting this little old car to the test. 

    Sunday brunch in Worland is a buffet among strangers who feel like family

    As if the scenery were not enough, lunch turned out to be a special treat. It is Sunday and we are in God’s Country. High up in Worland, Wyoming, without our Sunday-go-to-Meeting clothes.  We clean up as best we can and stop at a local restaurant for brunch.

    As we enter, it is apparent that Sunday is buffet day – the food is situated at the far end of the restaurant and people are lined up in the aisle between the side booths and center tables.  The place is packed and we are shown to the only clear booth at the other side of the room. 

    Everyone seemingly chats with everyone else as they slowly make it up to the buffet table. We feel like we’re some distant relatives who have shown up for the wedding party.  Actually, I wondered they don’t all turn and ask who we are, what our relationship is to the bride or groom.

    Eventually we found our way along the food line. There, sitting proudly among an array of colorful foods, was a big green bowl of Moldy Salad. Just like my Mom made for every summer picnic, for decades. 

    I confess. It made me smile and get all excited, scooping some onto my plate.  Instantly, I was no longer a stranger. I suddenly was attached to these people in a way that defies description.  Unknowingly, they gave me a gift as surely as Kathleen.

    Our route wandered up through Ponderosa-like pine covered mountains, down through colorful limestone canyons, past a cattle drive complete with a real cowboy on horse, face-to-face with escaped cattle loudly munching grass under a “No Pets…” sign, sagebrush flats for as far as the eye could see on what appeared to be the top of the world and then, as if that were not enough contrast, poof: a city of 10,000 people, Rock Springs, Wyoming.

    A great drive, beautiful scenery that just doesn’t stop, and air so crisp it reminds you that you’ve forgotten what fresh was all about.  What more could we ask for? The canyons provide one amazing view after another as you wind down among the limestone cuts until you can hardly believe what you’ve seen.  And the range land is everything you’ve ever imagined and better.

    Even the town names proved interesting.  As the story goes, it was common practice for Native Americans to measure distances in terms of how long it took to get from one place to another. Hence, the town of Tensleep became known for the distance – accounted for by the time it took to get there from Buffalo.  Before someone asks, we don’t know whether that was on foot or horseback but we do know it was way before roads.

    By the end of the day, as we descended into Rock Springs for the night, we could see where the “purple mountains majesty” came from.  The setting sun behind these seemingly barren, but scrub-covered peaks casts a dark lavender haze that is too beautiful to capture or believe. Cattle land for sure, and very different from the South Dakota that we have come to love, but well worth the trip. 

    We feel fortunate to have had the time and the temperament to take this less traveled route.  We heard someone say that, of the hundreds of thousands (millions?) of people who tour Yellowstone National Park each year, more than 99 percent never go more than 200 feet off the main roads leading in and out of the area. That is shorter than a city block in Manhattan or Chicago.

    It isn’t that we’d wish those hoards of tourists on Tensleep, Worland or Thermopolis (or even on the untouched wilderness around Yellowstone for that matter), but that is a sad statistic.  We are no experienced adventure guides; nor 50-pound pack carrying, Bermuda-short wearing, certified mountain climbers. But we will ask for maps at a ranger station or read the information at a trail head, grab a couple of bottles of water, a compass and give a trail a try. 

    If the going gets really rough or too steep for comfort we will turn back. If the trail is too long for the time we have, we just walk partway and backtrack.  To make the effort to get to a place and yet to never truly experience what it feels like to be in that place is such a shame.  There are times when it is best to leave behind the cacophony of sounds, lights and people that give color and substance to normal urban surroundings if you ever hope to find the beauty of the wilderness.

    Powder River Pass

    At 9,666 feet, Powder River Pass is the highest point on Highway 16 in the Big Horn National Forest. Harsh weather conditions and shallow soil discourages the growth of trees. Growing on the slopes of the pass are fragile plants of the Alpine Tundra that survive by clinging to the soil for just enough water and nutrients. Along the highway are snow fences that are in place to keep drifts off the road. During the winter, it isn’t unusual to have 10 foot drifts in the pass.

    In June 2019, a high altitude tornado blew through Powder River Pass and cut a swath of trees down along a 3.7-mile path.


    Managing the Range


    Tensleep Canyon to the Flatlands


    Thermopolis is the hidden gem of hot springs in Wyoming

    Thermopolis is a town of some 3,000 residents; home to the Thermopolis State Park and famous for its hot springs. We totally enjoyed our visit.


    Leaving Thermopolis there were still many scenic spots along the way to the Red Canyon


    Whoa, stop the car … it’s a cattle drive (by)

    Moo Moos

    Uh, can’t you read?? Sign says NO PETS ON LAWNS. Stop telling your friends in the field how to find the hole you put in the fence.

    What do the continental divide, heavy truck traffic and a lost dog have in common?


    This post is one in a series that document our 400-day trip round the world (2005-2006). Each segment will be linked in at RTW.