The harsh shore of the Houtman Abrolhos Islands off the coast of Western Australia

The Event Staff team tried to beat the guests in trivia today, but bombed BADLY

Shafi Saboowala fits Squeekie with the pearl necklace she will model tomorrow

Kim De Klerck and her crew in the Pinnacle Grill relax after the Bush Tucker Dinner

Squeek and Moss with their boomerangs—and their bush hats

Squeekie with the black pearl necklace she is about to model

Jim Sheridan introduces Squeekie to the crowd

Flying fish jump out of the water; the Indian Ocean is very smooth today

Squeek and Moss with Bali’s Gunung Agung Volcano in the background

Squeekie took this picture of sunset over Bali


Day Thirty-three (Saturday, February 21, 2009)-- Today was an “at sea” day as we cruised north along the West Coast of Australia, headed toward Indonesia. We are in the Indian Ocean, and it has been surprisingly calm. Late in the morning we attended a “Culinary Question and Answer” session in the Wajang Theatre. This featured Bernie, the Executive Chef, Bart, the Culinary Operations Manager, and Thomas, the Dining Room Manager. These three men are responsible for the supply, creation and delivery of the food aboard our ship, and it was interesting to hear them describe the logistics and techniques used to achieve the wonderful results we have enjoyed. I was particularly interested to learn of the logistics of supplying this ship with its needs as it travels around the world. What was described was a combination of containers delivered to certain ports in advance of need, and supplies purchased in local ports, especially fruits and vegetables. We have noticed that the food on this cruise has been better than that on other cruises we have taken, and we learned that this is because the World Cruises and the other Grand Voyages have bigger food budgets than do the shorter cruises. Another thing we learned is that Holland-America is reacting to changing times by relaxing its dress code to a degree. Does this mean that the “Grand Manner” will die? I certainly hope not!!

At the noontime Trivia contest, a special competition was arranged between a team composed of Event Staff personnel and the teams made up of guests. Our team, the “Orphans,” was one of the contestants. Bruce, the event Manager, asked some particularly tough questions this day. The Event Staff team BOMBED badly, earning only six points out of a possible twenty three. The Orphans managed to earn fifteen points this day, and the winning team got seventeen points. We have yet to win any of the trivia contests held on “at sea” days, but they certainly are FUN!

Shortly after mid-day a rugged coastline could be seen on our starboard (right) side. The land that came into view is a rather unappealing part of Western Australia which appears to be very desert-like. I got out my long telephoto lens and took some pictures of a rugged coast with cliffs, desert vegetation and high waves crashing on a harsh shore. The map says these are islands are named the Houtman Abrolhos Islands after Portuguese and Dutch explorers from the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. There are three groups of islands and rocks, surrounded by reefs, about 30 nautical miles off the shore of Western Australia. The channel between the islands and the mainland is called the Geelvink Channel. The large number of Portuguese and Dutch landmark names on Australia’s West Coast shows how it was used as a landmark by the sailors and navigators of those nations long before the British showed up. It also was a tough coast to sail along in the days of sailing ships, as is shown by the numerous shipwrecks which can be found here, including the famous Batavia from the Dutch East-India Company, some items from which are now displayed at the maritime museum in Adelaide.

At 2 o’clock Squeekie had to go to the Mirabella jewelry salon on Deck Five to choose some pearls to model during a show which will be held tomorrow. One of the gift shop ladies had recommended that Squeek be selected to be a model for this show; apparently they do this on the longer cruises, selecting some women from among the passengers. Australian pearls were what were being shown, and most of the pieces were very gaudy, but Squeekie found a simple piece, a necklace made from a single black pearl on a silver chain, accented with tiny diamonds. It looked LOVELY against her tanned skin.

Later in the afternoon I went up to the salon on Deck Eight for a discomfiting event. I had a lady, Colleen—she was from Port Elizabeth in South Africa—cut my hair. I felt very uncomfortable in this ladies’ salon, and spoke rather grumpily to an unseen person who made a comment I didn’t like, and Squeek got angry at me for speaking my mind and left without taking a picture of this historic event.

In the evening we attended our third themed dinner in the Pinnacle Grill. It featured Australian cuisine and was entitled the “Bush Tucker” Dinner, although I’m certain that Crocodile Dundee and his mates never ate such a fancy repast out in the bush! Squeekie and I wore our new Aussie “bush” hats to keep in the spirit of the event. We sat at our “usual” table, but tonight we were paired with another couple, Dorothy and Guy from San Diego. It was nice to become acquainted with them, and we had a very pleasant evening chatting. The dinner was creative and tasty. It started with small pieces of kangaroo meat, which looked like slices of beef tenderloin but tasted more like venison. It was GOOD! This was followed by two large prawns, which were delicious, accented with some mango fruit slices. Then came a clear crocodile soup; yes, soup made from slices of croc loin (Chef Sean later told us) which, as predicted, did taste like chicken, well, sort of. Then we were served two small-portioned entrees, a barramundi fillet and a rack of Australian lamb crusted with macadamia nuts. Squeekie, who doesn’t care for most fish dishes, ate the barramundi and liked it! It was light and moist and not at all fishy-tasting. The lamb, encased in a macadamia nut crust was outstanding! I don’t recall what the dessert was, except that it was good, too. Each guest at this dinner was given an Aboriginal-painted boomerang as a memento; Squeekie’s has a kangaroo on it and mine is a gecko.


Day Thirty-four (Sunday, February 22, 2009)-- Today was yet another day at sea, and the water was still calm. The main event of this day was the modeling show sponsored by Mirabella jewelry, which was held in the Explorers’ Lounge on Deck Five. Squeekie was VERY excited to have been asked to model in this event, and she readied for it with all of her usual thoughtfulness and intensity.

What were being modeled were Australian and Tahitian pearls designed by Tara & Sons, who sent their senior Vice President Jim Sheridan out from New York to market these items. Squeek had selected a simple pendant necklace, one black pearl, with some tiny diamonds tying it onto a fine silver chain. It was a very nice piece and looked OUTSTANDING on Squeek’s tanned skin. She had to report to the Mirabella jewelry room at 2 pm, where she and all the other ladies who were selected to model—all twenty of them—fastened on their pieces and drank champagne. I selected a seat at the very front of the runway so that I could get nice pictures of her as she walked forward. By ten of three the room was crowded—mainly with ladies, but there were some men too—and I was glad that I had come early to get a good seat. At three o’clock the event began with Sheridan bumbling his way through his spiel about his company and the pearls they marketed. Then the modeling began. I must say that all of the women asked to model this afternoon were, to put it nicely, middle aged women with little sense of couture. When, after about six of these fluffy, graying women had come up the runway, Squeekie appeared and began her walk, you could sense a real interest in the crowd. Men and women alike watched as she came forward. About half way up the runway she stopped and held out her hand to show the matching ring to a woman in the audience. As Squeek walked—and I could tell from the smile on her face that she was thrilled to be doing this—Sheridan told the audience that this necklace had a special history, having been designed as one of the gifts given to Oscar winners in 2007. When Squeekie arrived at the front of the audience, Sheridan joked with her; it was as though the entire room wanted her to stay up in front for a few minutes longer.

After Squeek was done and walked back out of the audience area, it was as though a curtain had closed. I lost interest in the rest of the show, but I could not leave because I was in front of most of the audience. I saw Squeek standing at the very back wall of the room, drinking a flute of champagne and talking to our new friend Don Davidson from Canada. Finally the program was over, but for the rest of the day and night people came up to Squeekie and commented on how good she had looked. Many also asked me if I intended to buy the necklace for her, but I must say the she specifically said that I should NOT do so. I won’t say how much it cost, but it was definitely out of my price range. . . .

After this wonderful event Squeekie, still in her lovely black gown, and I, in my tuxedo, went up to the Lido to have some ice cream. You can just imagine all the stares we got from the people (guests and employees alike) up there who are not accustomed to seeing such well dressed people in that location. It was fun. This evening we dined with our friends Jim and Jessica from Pennsylvania, and Don and Iris from British Columbia. We crashed after a very exciting day at sea.


Day Thirty-five (Monday, February 23, 2009)-- Today is our last “at sea” day before we arrive in Indonesia. The sea is very smooth and Rotterdam has been zooming along at very high speed. At his mid-day “Voice from the Bridge” announcement, Captain Olav came on and said that the high speed was due to a medical emergency, and he had to get Rotterdam to Bali, where there was a hospital that could take care of the patient. Although we were sorry for the guest who had gotten ill (it later turned out that it was two guests), we were glad to hear that we were going to Bali, which had not originally been on the agenda. Squeekie was ecstatic!

In the afternoon, the ocean was like glass as we crossed the northeastern arm of the Indian Ocean which separates Australia from the Indonesian islands. While we were sitting in the Lido at late lunch we saw unusual patterns on the smooth water. Someone nearby said that they were made by flying fish. I got out my camera and sure enough, there they were—flying fish. They were tiny, but we began taking pictures. The Lido windows were dirty, however, so we went back to our room and shot from the veranda. Both Squeekie and I got nice pictures of the flying fish, and also, once, of a larger predatory fish chasing after them. Later I downloaded the pix into our hard drive file, selected a few of them and blew them up with Photoshop and, well, you see the results at the top of this blog page.

Finally, late in the afternoon an island appeared on the horizon. It was Bali! We both were very excited and took some pictures. A panorama is on this page. Rotterdam sailed around an adjoining island into a bay where, apparently, there is a western resort community living and a hospital which could take care of the medical emergency. Rotterdam anchored just a few hundred yards from shore and a tender was lowered to take the patients ashore. All in all, it took nearly an hour from the lowering of the tender until its reshipping. During that time the sun set over the western edge of Bali, and Squeekie was able to take a wonderful picture of “sunset over Bali,” which was one of the things she had wanted to do on this world cruise, but had thought would not happen.

Sunset over the Indian Ocean

Sunrise over the port of Fremantle; in an hour we will dock

The skyline of Perth from the Swan River

Squeek and Moss tasting Sandalford Wines on the Swan River


Squeek inspects the Cabernet grapes at Sandalford; harvest is still some weeks away

We help the economy of Western Australia

On walkabout among the historic Victorian-era buildings of Fremantle


Day Twenty-eight (Monday, February 16, 2009)-- We are in the Great Australian Bight; it is the first of three days at sea. Squeekie and I spent most of the day catching up on our writing, but there is nothing to write about. . . .


Day Twenty-nine (Tuesday, February 17, 2009)-- This was our second day at sea, and we were half way across the Great Australian Bight, which has been a bit rough. Today Squeekie and I forewent computer work. I took the Galley tour for the second time and had a nice chat with Bernie in the galley. Afterward I met Squeek for a demonstration of fruit and vegetable carving by two of our Filipino cooks. It was very impressive! At noon I joined my group for another bout of Trivia, but we continue not to have done very well. . . . Tonight was a formal evening, but not otherwise very interesting.


Day Thirty (Wednesday, February 18, 2009)-- Today was our third day at sea. We have crossed the Australian Bight and have turned back to the north around the southwest corner of the Australian continent, now in the Indian Ocean. Squeekie and I spent much of this day in the Crow’s Nest, she doing Edison work and I writing blogs and notes. The day started out foggy but cleared by the afternoon; we are still so far south that the weather is cool. In the afternoon we took our long extension cord and did our computer work in the Lido, but I didn’t like it as well because it was noisier and busier than the Crow’s Nest usually is. These three days at sea have been quiet but tomorrow will be different as we will be in our last port in Australia.


Day Thirty-one (Thursday, February 19, 2009)-- Today we are in our last Australian port, Fremantle-Perth. When I awoke at 6:15 am, the sun was just beginning to light the sky in the east and the lights of Fremantle were glowing on the horizon. Rotterdam was scheduled to land at Fremantle at 7:30 am. It was interesting to stand on our verandah and watch as we approached this busy harbour; the ship glided past the north breakwater and into the mouth of the Swan River, which forms the harbour for Fremantle. We tied up right on time.

A bit of history first-- The West Coast of Australia was explored by Europeans from the seventeenth century onwards. The Dutch, who used certain landmarks on the Australian coast to help them get to the Spice islands (modern Indonesia) had no desire to colonise here, but when a French scientific expedition showed up in 1801, the British, who had already claimed the East Coast of Australia, decided that they had better take claim to the West Coast as well. In April 1829, Captain Charles Fremantle landed his ship, HMS Challenger, at the place where the Swan River (so called because of the many Black Swans which lived—and still live—in the river) empties into the ocean and claimed the land for Great Britain. He later gave his name to the town established on the site. This was to be the first “private” colony—that is, one managed by business interests rather than directly by the British government—since the American colonies some two centuries earlier. The first settlers found the going very tough despite the fact that the land along the Swan and Margaret Rivers was very fertile. Few people came and there was a labour shortage in the colony which was alleviated by the importing of some convicts from Britain. Western Australia thus became the last place in Australia where convicts were imported and housed in a so-called “Convict Establishment;” from 1850 until 1868 they were brought in and used primarily for labour.

Western Australia struggled along until the gold rush of the 1890s, when thousands of people passed through Fremantle on their way to the goldfields of Kalgoorlie and Coolgardie, creating a boom time for the town. Many nice buildings were built during this time, and many of them remain today. It was also at this time that the mouth of the Swan River was turned into a port—the very place where our ship docked. Since then Fremantle has been Western Australia’s major commercial port.

Perth, which is located some ten miles up the Swan River from the port at Fremantle, also was founded in 1829, and originally was known as the Swan River Settlement. This town slowly grew despite being designated as the political capital of the colony known as Western Australia, until it was granted city status by Queen Victoria in 1856. Today it is a busy city but with one curiosity. The Perth-Fremantle urban region can be considered to be the most remote city in the world, located far away from any other city; it is closer to Jakarta (the capital of Indonesia, which lies on islands over a thousand miles north of Australia) than it does to Sydney and Melbourne on the east coast of the Australian continent.

Our adventure this day-- Our tour was the first one of the day to leave the ship, so Squeekie and I had to hurry to get ready, get some “brecky,” and go down to the Queen’s Lounge to await our call. We boarded our small bus at 8:30 and drove along the north side of the Swan River toward Perth. We arrived at a dock area at Barrack Square, right in the heart of downtown Perth. There we boarded a river cruise boat, the “Miss Sandalford,” and prepared for our tour up the Swan River. As we left the dock we had wonderful views, of Perth and its dynamic skyline on one side, and of the suburb known as South Perth across the river, which at this very wide spot (the river is still tidal at this point) is known as “Perth Water.”

As we went up the river the scenery gradually changed as we left the city behind and moved into the outer suburbs. Clearly, many Perth-ites prefer to live along the river; there were many houses along its bank, especially on the eastern side. I recall passing one home with a large deck overhanging the raised riverbank, with patio furniture and a “barbie” (barbeque) prominently displayed. Many of the riverside homes had docks and boats. Our tour guide, named Lisa, commented that in recent years these riverside homes have been selling for upwards of one million Australian dollars. The scenery here looked a great deal like what one sees in Central California; I think I could live here without feeling too homesick. . . .

As we progressed up the river, enjoying the scenery as suburb gave way to countryside, we also saw some wildlife, mostly birds. Squeekie got some nice pictures of ducks and local species whose names I did not catch. At one place we passed an Aussie family out for the day, fishing and exercising the family dog. We waved at them and they waved back—everywhere we have gone in this land the residents have seemed to be warm and friendly, even in the big cities. The riverboat, which was owned by the winery we were to visit, also served as a venue for wine tasting. Lisa and her helper began pouring wines from the Sandalford Winery. We began with a Verdelho, a white wine with Portuguese ancestry; it was somewhat fruity but not sweet and went well with the Brie cheese they also served, but I did not care for it that much. Next was poured a Chardonnay from 2007. It was drier than the first wine but easier on my palate, and was outstandingly matched with the English-style Cheddar (from Victoria, we were told) they also served. Then came a Shiraz red wine which had a hint of plums, but I am not a fan of this hearty wine; it was paired with blue cheese which was too strong for my taste. Next they poured their Cabernet Sauvignon from 2005; it was fruitier than what we usually taste in California and I really liked it. Finally they poured a mystery wine which our group had to guess what it was and where it came from. I bombed on the guessing game, but it turns out it was a Sandalford Riesling from 2002 which had aged well (unusual for a Riesling); it retained its fruity taste but finished with a hint of kerosene—not something one would normally like to drink, but it was good.

The riverboat landed at the Sandalford Winery and our group debarked—some staggered—for the tour. The winery is small compared to many we have visited in California, but it appears to be very state-of-the-art. I will not go into details, but it appears that they are careful with their use of water (important in drought-stricken Australia), and go to great length to get the right kind of barrels in which to age and flavour their vintages. Their barrel room contained many hundreds of French oak and American oak barrels which were obtained sometimes at great cost. At the end of the tour we were shown the oldest vines on the property, Almeria grapes planted in 1890 and still producing fruit after 119 years! These were table grapes, however; the oldest wine grapes on this property were planted in the 1970s, if I remember correctly. We were shown a movie that told us the history of this property. It was originally part of the land granted to the Engineer-Surveyor of this region of Western Australia. He planted grapes here and the family owned the property into the 1970s, producing wines from the 1940s on. The property was sold to international investors (who they were was never said) in the late 1970s, but was “rescued” in 1992 by its present owner, an Aussie. The wines produced here are quite good, and have won a degree of recognition, but still have a way to go to gain the degree of international fame that (for example) California wines enjoy.

Following the tour we were served a gourmet-quality luncheon with matched wines. A selection of canapés went well with their Verdelho, although I preferred the Riesling. I then had a wonderful, moist and tasty salmon from Tasmania, while Squeek had the chicken. A sampling of their late harvest Riesling topped the meal. After lunch we were introduced to their ports. I tasted a port taken directly from the barrel and it was good enough for me to buy a bottle. Then we were allowed to taste their rare (and expensive), 30-year old “Sandalera” port. It was GRAND! Our tour guide, Lisa, had earlier likened it to “Christmas Pudding,” and it was all of that; complex with a range of tastes and a powerful sweetness that many ports do not have. This port normally sells for $95 a bottle, but we were able to obtain 3 bottles for $150; we split this purchase with Doug and Alice from Newport Beach, “Seventh Deckers” whom we got to know on this tour.

Well fortified with fortified wines, we departed the very lovely Sandalford Winery aboard our small bus for the journey back to the ship. The drive through the Swan River countryside reminded Squeekie and I of Central California—hot, dry, lots of farming, and numerous eucalyptus trees. We drove through Perth, but too fast to really see much, although I was pleased when our bus was stopped at a grade crossing by two local trains which zoomed by, one outbound to Midland and the other inbound to Perth. After the trains passed us and we drove over the tracks, I was surprised to see that they were dual gauge—I think 3-foot 6-inch gauge and standard gauge, but I don’t have a reference book handy to check that for sure. I really haven’t gotten enough of trains on this visit to Australia!

After a mostly scenic drive on the southern side of the Swan River between Perth and Fremantle, our bus spent some time touring through historic downtown Fremantle. Squeekie and I decided that we wanted to walk through this town’s historic district, so when the bus dropped us off at the ship pier, Squeekie took our purchases on board and brought back our walking shoes so we could tour the town. It was 4:30 in the afternoon. We walked over the railway branch line, getting wonderful shots of the local passenger train as we did so, and then walked along Beach Street to the railway station, which was a lovely construction dating from the Edwardian era. (A footnote—passenger service between Fremantle and Perth was discontinued in September 1979, but was restored in July 1982. It was very heavily used we could see by the frequency of trains and the number of passengers.)

Then we went into the heart of Fremantle’s tourist district only to discover that the town quite literally rolls up its sidewalks at 5:30 pm! Squeekie wanted to shop for a few last minute Aussie goodies, but found to her horror that the stores all closed rather abruptly. She was able to go into two stores, and I was able to hit one bookstore, but we did nothing to help the economy of Western Australia here—although we had done our part back at the Sandalford Winery earlier in the day! We spent some additional time on walkabout photographing some of the historic old buildings in town, many of which have been preserved and restored. They mostly date from the period 1890-1910, when Western Australia enjoyed an economic boom thanks to the discovery of gold. Still, the lack of shopping brought some disappointment to us, and we returned to the Rotterdam by 6pm.

We had no desire for dinner aboard ship this evening. We went to the early show in the Queen’s Lounge where a folk-song group called the “Windjammers” sang sea shanties. This historic and interesting group was composed of 3 Brits and 1 Swede, all of whom had migrated to Australia many years ago. After that we went to bed.


Day Thirty-two (Friday, February 20, 2009)-- We are sad today because we are leaving Australia behind. We have enjoyed our visit here, but it has gone by too quickly. I saw trains and trams, and Squeekie got to climb the Sydney Bridge, but I didn’t get my transcontinental train trip and Squeek didn’t get to cuddle with koalas, nor did she get to see a Tasmanian Devil. So there is no doubt in my mind that we will return here someday—hopefully sooner rather than later.

The Rotterdam’s departure from the port of Fremantle was quite spectacular. The gangway was removed at 9am and after being untied from the dock our mighty ship literally spun on a dime in the middle of the Swan River harbour, turning 180 degrees so that it could head out to sea. As we left the harbour, we had to thread our way through over a dozen cargo ships at anchor offshore, waiting to land at Fremantle’s other port to load raw material resources. Captain Olav said that the economic downturn has meant that China is ordering less raw materials at present, and thus fewer ships are calling at Fremantle (Australia’s busiest port for raw materials) to load materials, which also means that the mining industry in Western Australia is slowing down as well. Iron ore, nickel, and bauxite all are mined in Western Australia.

So now, as I write this, we are sailing north along the West Coast of Australia, which we can see in the distance, sad to be leaving this fascinating country. I am using this at sea day to catch up on my blog writing and photo sorting. G’day, mate!

Squeek and Moss at the Valentine’s Day formal dinner

Squeekie looks over Adelaide from Montefiore Hill

A South Australian Railways Standard Gauge 4-10-2+2-10-4 Beyer-Garratt locomotive; an example of one of the finest designs of steam locomotive technology ever built

Moss with 18-inch gauge tank engine “Pug” at the Australian National Railway Museum in Adelaide

Day Twenty-six (Saturday, February 14, 2009)-- Happy Valentines Day! I had arranged for a dozen roses to be delivered to my Squeekie on this special day, and they arrived while we were at “brecky” (that’s Aussie for “breakfast”). Unfortunately, they lost the card that I had asked to be delivered with them, but nonetheless Squeek was pleased. Actually, she knew that they were coming because she had seen the entry when she was reviewing our bill earlier in the trip, but she was happy anyway. They were quite nice and dominated the view in our cabin, which has become our little home away form home—snug but nice.

Because this was an at sea day, we followed our usual routine during daytime. Squeek and I worked in the Crow’s Nest most of the day, and I took a break at noon to play trivia with my team, the “Orphans,” but we did no better today than we have on any other. We seem to fall into the middle of the trivia tenders, fortunately not total losers but not ever winners—although we came very close on one day, losing the tie-breaking question.

The main event of this day came in the evening, with ship-wide celebration of Valentine’s Day. Appropriately, it was a formal night. As I have noted before, this ship supports the “Grand Manner” of earlier times by holding formal nights when the passengers are asked to dress in formal wear, that is, evening gowns and tuxedos. It really is nice to see people all dressed up like that; it feels very elegant. We were dining tonight not in the main dining room, the La Fontaine, but rather in the Pinnacle Grill. This room was decorated for the occasion with glistening red streamers and heart-shaped helium-filled balloons. It was really quite cute. The Pinnacle Chef (whose name is Sean McKerrness) prepared a fancy menu of “love theme” items, that is, foods that are considered to be aphrodisiacs; I can’t speak to the love-inducing qualities of the selections, but they certainly were delicious!

After dinner, Squeekie (who was gorgeous in the pink gown she had worn for Leslee’s wedding) and I went to the Queen’s Lounge to dance the night away. I did my duty as best I could (dancing is NOT my strong point), and Squeekie also got to dance with Captain Olav, which made her happy. Overall, it was quite a nice Valentine’s Day!


Day Twenty-seven (Sunday, February 15, 2009)-- This morning we awoke as Rotterdam was tying up at Adelaide’s Outer Harbour. We were welcomed to the pier by the music of a “bush band” that sang folk music.

Adelaide, named for the wife of British King William IV, was founded in 1836, and is the capital of the state of South Australia. In 1841 silver was discovered in the region, leading to an economic boom for most of the nineteenth century. Lead mining continued during World War One, and later, following World War Two, Adelaide became a centre for shipbuilding and the Australian defense industry. Adelaide remains the home of 70% of Australia’s defense industry and much of the nation’s heavy machinery industry.

After breakfast—I really must STOP eating so much—Squeek and I went down to the Queen’s Lounge to await our tour. We had signed up for the “Adelaide Highlights” tour, our choice because we thought it would give us a good overview of an unfamiliar town. It so happens that the city of Adelaide is quite a distance from the harbour where we tied up, nearly a 45-minute drive, but our tour guide today (unlike the very disagreeable lady we had the other day in Melbourne) filled the drive time with a running narrative of local folklore. Like much of Australia, Adelaide is enduring a severe drought and has instituted water rationing. As a result grass, flowers, and even a few trees were brown or clearly dying, yet the flora of the region still offered a brave front. Here and there oleanders were blooming despite the drought; it seemed a lot like Southern California in the middle of July!

Unlike most other British-planned colonial cities, Adelaide was neatly surveyed by Colonel William Light, an engineer in the British Army. The city has a core of square blocks and evenly-laid out streets, more like how many mid-Western and Western American cities started life. The very central part of the city is exactly one-mile square, each side or terrace being labeled by its compass direction, and surrounding this central core are parklands. Today, being Sunday, meant that these parks were filled with cricket matches and families out for sport or a picnic. Even though the park grasses were more brown than green (except for the cricket grounds which appeared to be well maintained), it all seemed very lovely. Adelaide feels a great deal like California (except for the significantly smaller population), and I think that it would be very easy to live here. In addition, it is a university town, and so it enjoys cultural as well as sporting activities. Were I much younger, I think I could easily move here.

After our cruise of the streets and parks of Adelaide, we stopped at Montefiore Hill in the park on the north side of town, where we stopped beside the statue of William Light, the engineer who had surveyed the town back in 1836. From this spot there was a lovely overview of the city. Our next stop was at the South Australia Museum, but we really didn’t have enough time to view their collections of artifacts. Squeekie went off to investigate the aboriginal artifacts, while I went in search of their paleontology and local history stuff. They had a wonderful mounted skeleton of a Jurassic-era Allosaurus on display, and also a sea turtle from the Mesozoic era. I also spent some time in their bookstore, where I could have purchased much more than I did. I remain disappointed that I chose not to purchase a book of Aboriginal oral history, oh, well!

After too short a time at a very good museum, our tour guide collected us and took us into the shopping heart of Adelaide, and people were shopping even though it was only about 11:30 on Sunday morning. We were encouraged to visit Haigh’s Chocolate store, and we found their dark chocolate to be outstanding; this company has been in Adelaide since 1915. Then Squeek and I took a quick walk along the Rundel Mall, a pedestrian shopping zone, where we stumbled upon the Myer Department Store which is, we learned, very big in Australia. We also stopped in Borders—yes, they have them here—where I found a biography of Simon Myer, the founder of this important Aussie business.

While walking back along the mall to the tour bus, a local woman stopped Squeek and myself. She heard our accents (well, to her our English would sound accented!) and asked if we were from America. Although a bit apprehensive (because she appeared a bit rough and I was afraid she was going to try to hit us up for some money), we said yes, and then she said she just wanted to thank us for sending our firefighters to Australia to help battle the wildfires blazing in Victoria. I had read in the daily news sheet that California had sent 60 firefighters skilled in dealing with our brushfires to help out the Aussies in Victoria state. This warmth and friendliness was very nice and typical of what Squeek and I have encountered here in Australia; the Aussies for the most part are very approachable. Later on I got to thinking about the fires and firefighters, and came to the conclusion that it was only fair for California to send firefighters to Australia, because Australia had sent us her eucalyptus trees (which burn very easily, as any Southern Californian knows), and so we learned how to fight brush fires and it is appropriate to return this knowledge to Australia. They sent us their (burnable) trees, and we sent them our firefighters. . . .

A visit to the National Railway Museum-- After the tour had finished, and our bus had returned to the Rotterdam at the Outer Harbour, Squeekie went back aboard the ship but I took off to go to the National Railway Museum in Port Adelaide, about 3 miles from where the ship was docked. I learned about the railway museum in Adelaide during our trip, and decided that I would try to get there if that were possible. Fortunately, it is located in a facility in the town of Port Adelaide which was just about five miles from where Rotterdam was docked, on the main road into the city of Adelaide. On its route into downtown, the shuttle bus being operated between the ship and Adelaide for the benefit of our world cruisers ran near the museum. I arranged with the tour bus driver for him to drop me off at the museum, which was just two blocks off their regular route, and I would get a taxi back to the ship.

The National Railway Museum has an interesting story in its own right. Originally organized in 1963 by a group of rail enthusiasts interested in preserving a bit of the rail history of the state of South Australia, the museum began under the name of the “Port Dock Station Railway Museum.” In 1988 a federal grant enabled the museum to be moved to its present site in Port Adelaide, on land that was part of the original rail line built in South Australia. At this time the Museum’s name was changed to “National Railway Museum,” but I must tell you that this museum is not a federal institution. There are other railway museums in Australia, and none of them seem to exist on grants of state or federal money. In 1997 the privatization of the Australian National Railways led to a major gift of motive power, rolling stock, and other items from the original Aussie transcontinental railway (originally known as the Commonwealth Railway), including cars from the very first train to cross the Australian continent in 1917!

The collection of locomotives and rolling stock housed in this museum is impressive, although strongly weighted toward preserving the rail history of South Australia. The railway history in the state of South Australia is complex, reflecting in a microcosm the story of railways in Australia as a whole. The state-owned system, known as the South Australian Railways, ran trains on three different gauges. The system was begun on a broad-gauge (5-foot 3-inches), a gauge they shared with the neighbouring state of Victoria, but later some narrow gauge lines (I believe all 3-foot 6-inches) were built to remote areas to save money. When the new federal government of Australia began building a transcontinental railway not long before the First World War began, they decided to build it to “standard” gauge (4-foot 8.5-inches). Because the transcontinental line went through South Australia (and Adelaide), this introduced a third gauge in the state. It took until the 1980s for all of the broad gauge lines to be converted to standard gauge (although I understand that there are still some broad gauge lines left in Victoria). This complexity was replicated throughout Australia. Broad Gauge was used in South Australia, Victoria, Tasmania, and on some routes in New South Wales. Standard Gauge was used on some lines in New South Wales, and later by the Commonwealth Railways. Queensland and Western Australia used narrow gauge. Even today it has not all been standardized.

Some of the locomotives I saw on display dated back to the early days of the South Australian Railway, back in the 1860s and 1870s. Most of the locomotives were steam, of course, but there was one electric locomotive built in 1926 for an industrial line, and several diesels used by the Commonwealth Railway, including one used to open the extension to Darwin, with the flags still displayed on the nose; this latter diesel design was very similar to the famous Alco PA design used in the USA in the 1950s.

After touring one large shed chock full of cars and engines, I came to a door going outside, with a path going to an adjacent shed. Imagine my surprise (and pleasure) when I looked out the glass window on the door and saw there a beautifully restored example of what I believe to be one of the finest steam locomotive designs ever operated in the world. There, right in front of me, resplendent in the sunlight, was No. 409, a South Australian Railways standard gauge 4-10-2+2-10-4 Beyer-Garratt locomotive! Now I realize that most Americans will have no idea what the heck I am talking about, because no examples of this magnificent engine ever operated in North America, but that is just a sad reality of American railway history. We were too proud (some would say too arrogant) of our own steam locomotive designs and rarely utilized engines from foreign builders, at least, that is, after the first generation of locomotives imported from Great Britain at the start of American railway history in the 1830s. The Beyer-Garratt (the name is a combination of the principal manufacturer and the inventor of the original design) is a unique design intended to solve the greatest problem which faced builders of steam locomotives, that is, how to cram all of the machinery needed to power a locomotive into a space that will fit within the limitations of gauge and track support capability. By the end of the nineteenth century, as steam engine boilers were growing longer and larger in diameter, some American and European locomotive designers were building “Mallet” engines in which the rigid frame holding the driving wheels of the locomotive was cut into two parts, one of which remained rigid and the other of which could turn. This gave the engine greater flexibility to turn corners, but boiler size was still restricted by the need to set it atop the driving wheels. Garratt resolved this problem by widely separating the sets of driving wheels and their powering cylinders and slinging the boiler (and cab) in between them. In effect, the steam locomotive, instead of being a single rigid construction as was most common, or a clumsy, one-jointed device as in the Mallet, was made a dual-jointed, three-section machine capable of turning sharper corners and able to carry a larger, more powerful boiler, all supported upon wheel assemblies that spread the weight of the engine widely, enabling it to be used on lighter rail. The Beyer-Garratt design, in its most common form, became fuel tender + cab and boiler + water tender. If you have no idea what this means, look at the picture I have included with this blog entry.

The Beyer-Garratt was a British design, and so was most widely used on the railways found in British colonies during the days of empire. The first engine was used in Tasmania in 1912 (I think). That was a narrow gauge engine, but other Beyer-Garratts were built for a range of gauges from narrow to standard to broad. These unique designs were found in Australia, in India, and in Africa, the latter especially in Kenya, Tanganyika, the Rhodesias, and South Africa. South Africa’s famous NGG-16, a 2-foot 6-inch gauge design, and the East African Railways’ “double mountain” (4-10-2+2-10-4) design were both used until the very end of the twentieth century, and some have been preserved. The uniqueness of the design concept meant that a steam locomotive manufacturer (mainly Britain’s Beyer Peacock firm but some others also built copies) could pack a tremendous amount of horsepower into a footprint much smaller than would be needed for a traditional engine design. Americans used to encountering the mighty Mallet designs such as Southern Pacific’s 4-8-8-2 Cab Forwards used in the Sierras or Norfolk and Western’s gigantic Y-2s which pulled mile-long coal trains may be surprised to learn that Beyer-Garratts could have produced similar horsepower ratings while doing less damage to the track structure.

As must be apparent from this long lecture on a type of steam locomotive virtually unknown to the majority of American rail enthusiasts, I believe these to have been a special technology worthy of greater recognition (even by American rail fans). I have known about these mighty machines most of my life, and have seen pictures of them, but never before have I ever seen one “in the flesh.” Now, on this trip around the world, that has changed. First, a few days earlier at the Puffing Billy Preserved Railway near Melbourne, I saw a preserved and operational narrow gauge example of this locomotive (although I went by too quickly and did not see it in actual operation), and now, at Adelaide, I saw a standard gauge version, preserved although not in steam. Wow!!

There was much else of interest at this fine museum, including a tiny 18-inch gauge locomotive used to pull visitors around the property, but for me, at least, the standard gauge Beyer-Garratt was the best exhibit. Oh, how I would love to bring it home with me. Of course, I cannot, but I have lots of pictures by which to remember it.

When I returned to the ship, an Aussie barbeque was being held at the Lido Pool. I sampled some of the Aussie delights—the lamb was delicious, and I tasted an Aussie beer—and Squeekie and I listened to the folk music which was being played by the same bush band that had greeted our ship as we docked this morning. The group was named the Old Gum Tree-O, and was composed of two men and a woman. Squeek enjoyed their music so much that she bought their CD.

Rotterdam was scheduled to depart Adelaide at 11 PM, but we were tired from our long day and crashed earlier, and so missed the departure. Now we are facing three days at sea as we cross the “Great Australian Bight” and turn north around the southwestern corner of the Australian continent. I will try to use these at sea days to catch up on my blog writing.

Sunrise over Melbourne

Squeek and Moss at Menzies Creek Station on “Puffing Billy” preserved railway in Victoria

Squeekie prepares to video the Puffing Billy Railway; no OSHA rules here!

Moss rides the Puffing Billy railway

Puffing Billy crosses a canyon

Squeek and Moss ride the 109 tram into downtown Melbourne

The City Tour Tram at Flinders Street Station in Melbourne



Day Twenty-four (Thursday, February 12, 2009)-- Today was an at sea day as Rotterdam sailed down the East Coast of Australia headed toward Melbourne. It also was day two of my birthday celebration. The Tasmanian Sea was very rough today, and Squeekie and I spent most of the day in her “office” in the Crow’s Nest on Deck Nine, she doing Edison work and I writing blog stuff. This evening we dined in the Pinnacle Grill to celebrate my birthday. Kim, the Grill Manager, seated us at Table Six, which she has learned is our favourite table aboard the Rotterdam, where we had dined with Captain Olav early in the voyage. The meal was excellent, of course! Squeekie had a very moving card for me and gave me two books on the “Puffing Billy” train we will ride in Melbourne tomorrow (see below). She is so well prepared all the time! She had ordered those books back in December in anticipation of our trip! I had a much enjoyed birthday celebration with the most wonderful girl in the world, my Squeekie. . . .


Day Twenty-five (Friday, February 13, 2009)-- I awakened this morning to find the Rotterdam far into Port Philip Bay, nearing Port Melbourne. The sunrise was beautiful, but the red-gold colours were due to the fires still burning out of control in the outback behind Melbourne. These fires have been in the news since we were in Vanuatu last week; over one hundred people have died and thousands of hectares (read acres) of land have been burned over. The bush fires, as they are called in Australia, are similar to what we get in Southern California, caused by high temperatures, strong winds, insufficient rain, and so forth. Anyway, I snapped a picture of the sunrise as we neared the dock at Port Melbourne. By the time Squeekie awoke, we were tied up and the gangway had been put out. This anchorage is very different from what we had experienced in Sydney. We were some distance away from the city centre, tied to a pier jutting out into the bay with a corrugated iron building standing on the wharf which appeared to be a relic from an earlier age. Across the pier from Rotterdam was the “Spirit of Tasmania” ferry. On the horizon were the skyscrapers of downtown Melbourne.

The city of Melbourne, named for Lord Melbourne, the British Prime Minister of the moment, was founded in 1837, the first year of the reign of Queen Victoria. Growth was stimulated by the Ballarat gold rush in the 1850s, and already in the mid-19th century the city had established a firm policy of green spaces and control over growth. As the day went by—and I must say right now that one day was not nearly enough time to spend in this WONDERFUL city—we came to see how different is Melbourne from Sydney. Melbourne is Australia’s second largest city (behind Sydney), and is the capital of the state of Victoria. This city lives in the shadow of Sydney but it is superior in a number of ways. It appears to be the cultural nexus of Australia and is clearly one of the world’s most livable cities despite the current drought and fires in the nearby countryside.

Tour into the Dandenongs-- More about Melbourne and its trams in a bit, but first, here is what Squeekie and I did in the morning. We had signed up for the “Puffing Billy Steam Train and Countryside” tour. Squeekie wanted me to have a steam train ride in honour of my birthday, and all of you who know me know I will not turn down access to railways. So off we went in a coach into Melbourne’s western suburbs. The ride gave us a good look at Melbourne’s suburbs, and we could see how nice a region this area is, despite the fires burning in the bush some 30 kilometers north and west of town. Our coach headed west into the mountain range locally known as the Dandenongs, which are the southern extension of the Blue Mountains we visited near Sydney, and which also are, by the way, every bit as blue because of their forests of eucalyptus trees.

Our roadway took us into the community of Ferntree Gully, already in the hills but still appearing to be a suburb. Several tight turns around roundabouts (traffic circles) brought our coach into the village of Belgrave, which clearly was a vacation community, not a suburb. As the driver shoehorned our motorcoach down a narrow street there came into view a sight which will always get my attention: narrow gauge rails and a steam locomotive whose puffs of steam and smoke told that it was alive and working! Belgrave Station is the terminus of Australia’s most famous preserved railway, popularly known as “Puffing Billy.”

The Puffing Billy Railway is a portion of the original Victorian Government Railways branchline which once provided access into the Dandenong Mountains. Construction began in 1899 from the end of the main line railway at Ferntree Gully toward Gembrook. The railway, built to narrow gauge to save on construction and operating expenses, opened in December of 1900. For twenty years the line was heavily used and quite profitable, but from the Great Depression onwards business declined rapidly. A series of landslides in 1952 and 1953 caused the government railway to close the line, but loud public outcry and formation of the “Puffing Billy Preservation Society” led to continued running of excursion trains on the line. In 1958, that portion of the line between Ferntree Gully and Belgrave was closed and converted to standard gauge as the main line was extended; the preservation society had to relocate its operations to Belgrave. Between 1958 and 1962 the preservation society had to build a new station, shops and sheds at Belgrave, had to relocate tracks around the landslide, and repair tracks to Menzies Creek and repair rolling stock; no trains were run. In 1962 service was restored on the narrow gauge line from Belgrave to Menzies Creek, but it took until 1998 for the entire line to be reopened to its original terminus at Gembrook. This line, the most popular tourist railway in Australia, carried its 8 millionth passenger in 2006.

Squeekie and I debarked onto the platform, she to take care of some urgent issues and I to walk forward to see the locomotive. Eventually we came back together and settled into a passenger car (“carriage” in British/Aussie usage) that had been reserved for our tour group. These cars were built back in 1919 and have been beautifully preserved over the last sixty years by the preservation group who saved the railway from scrapping. They feature benches placed in the middle of the car and running in the same direction as the train runs; there are no windows, just open spaces with some horizontal bars to keep passengers in. It is a long-standing tradition among those who ride the Puffing Billy to sit upon the window sill and hang your legs outside as the train runs through the forest. As soon as she learned this, Squeekie, in the spirit of the moment, set herself just so and prepared to ride the Puffing Billy and video its journey through the Dandenongs. I, on the other hand, prepared to take still pictures, but with my body inside the carriage—I didn’t want my not-inconsiderable bulk to overturn the train!

With a whistle from the small tank engine at the head of the train, our very long train departed Belgrave. The whistle, by the way, drew my attention right away because it was not the high-pitched shriek that is customary to British-built locomotives, but rather was the lower, throatier cry typical of American-built engines. A quick consultation with the Puffing Billy book that Squeekie had given me for my birthday, and I learned that No. 6A, the tank engine pulling our train, was a copy of a standard Baldwin 2-6-2 tank engine design very popular in the 1890s. The first two locomotives of this class had been built by Baldwin and shipped to Australia, and the railroad’s own workshops had copied the design, rivet by rivet, to make a half-dozen more. Our 6A was erected in 1901 at Victorian Railways’ Newport Shops, and had a complete restoration in 2002.

Before we left Belgrave we passed by the railway shops and there, to my surprise and pleasure, stood locomotive G42. I had not expected to see this, indeed I did not even know of its existence, but there it was in all its historic significance! G42 is a Beyer-Garratt locomotive, built in 1926 for use on the narrow gauge rail lines of Victorian Railways. After being saved from scrapping it went to the Puffing Billy Railway, where restoration to operating condition was completed in 2004 at a cost of 1.7 million dollars (Australian). I have known of this very historic type of locomotive all of my adult life, and have seen pictures of their operation in various places around the globe, but none of this British-designed and built steam locomotive ever were used in North America. G42 was the very first Beyer-Garratt I had ever seen in reality. Unfortunately, there was no way I could stop the train and run over to see it up close, but I snapped pictures as best I could as we puffed by.

Out little train wound its way through the forests of the Dandenongs, running along the sides of canyons and occasionally crossing over; one particular canyon crossing—very famous in photographs of the railway—drew my attention, and I snapped over a dozen pictures as we crossed over. Squeekie pointed the video camera toward the head of the train and stuck with it for virtually the entire run. She looked like a young girl rail fan with her feet and legs hanging down and a grin on her face as she played at videographer! Past the tree ferns and gum trees we chugged, enjoying to the fullest this lovingly preserved window on Australia’s past.

After three miles of steam, smoke, and eucalyptus oil, our train stopped at the station of Menzies Creek. To my horror we all were asked to debark from our carriage. This was the end of our ride on historic Puffing Billy! We had only traveled three miles, and still had nearly twenty miles to go, but this was to be all for us. I had not expected to be cut short like this, and you can imagine that I was more than a little angry. Squeekie and I walked up to the locomotive and took many pictures of it, and of the engineer (“driver” in Aussie-speak). I stayed back as long as I could, refusing to get on the bus and taking pictures as my own way of sending a message of my disappointment at having my steam trip cut short. (That having been said, I must add that I am glad that I got what I did, because I learned that with the high fire danger in the area it was lucky that we had gotten a steam locomotive on our train instead of a diesel.)

The rest of our tour aboard the bus was a look at the forests and viewpoints in the Dandenong Mountains. It was interesting enough, but the tour lost my attention upon leaving Puffing Billy. Eventually we drove back through Melbourne, and were deposited at the head of the pier where Rotterdam was tied up. And just across the roadway from the pier was a tram! Yes, an electric trolley car (as Americans would say), a very nice, modern one waiting to carry passengers. Those of you who know me well know that trolleys (trams) can draw my attention every bit as much as do steam locomotives.

And so, to a bit more history-- As we had driven through the city returning from our tour into the Dandenongs, I noticed that rather than destroy its 19th century architecture, the city tends to incorporate it into more modern structures. And I also noticed the prevalence of trolley cars on the city’s streets. (I knew that Melbourne still had trolley cars, but I did not know the extent to which they had been saved.) In my opinion, Melbourne’s greatest claim to goodness is the fact that, unlike most other cities in the industrial world, she did NOT get rid of (or significantly downsize) her electric tram system, which remains today as the primary component of her urban transport system. (You just had to guess that this would be of significant excitement to me!)

Melbourne's tram system began operations in 1885, when the first San Francisco-style cable line operated by the Melbourne Tramway and Omnibus Company opened for business. The cable tram system grew to 75 kilometers of double track and 1200 cars and trailers, the fourth largest cable system in the world. The Melbourne Tramway and Omnibus Company enjoyed a monopoly franchise from 1885 to 1916, after which the system was handed over to the government, who operated the system through the Melbourne and Metropolitan Tramways Board. The cable car system was so comprehensive within its area of operation, that there was no way for a competing electric tram service to get into the city centre. Therefore, electric trams, when they started in Melbourne, for the most part initially acted as feeders to the cable system. Nonetheless, due to high operating costs, the cable system was gradually electrified; by the time the last line was removed from Bourke St. in 1940, the system had operated successfully for 55 years.

Cable cars notwithstanding, Australia’s first electric tram line, from Box Hill Station to Doncaster in the suburbs of Melbourne, opened in 1889. It was in a remote area and had little traffic along with some serious technical issues; it died by 1896. The only hint now that there was ever a tram running in the Doncaster area is a road along the former route - Tram Road. The first serious electric trams in Melbourne began in 1906 in North Melbourne, by a company interested in selling electricity to customers along the tram route. In other parts of Melbourne, groups of local councils got together and formed various municipal Tramways Trusts to build electric lines which fed the cable system.

Eventually, all of these predecessors, whether corporate or local government-owned, were consolidated into the Melbourne and Metropolitan Tramways Board. The MMTB needed a standard tram design and came up with the famous W-class design which is still running.

After the Second World War, when all that was shiny and new (like the motor car) was embraced, and all that was established and old-fashioned (like the tram) was rejected, Melbourne alone stood against the tide. The Chairman of the MMTB, Sir Robert Risson, far from having a taste for tramway closures like his opposite numbers elsewhere, stoutly defended the trams against a hostile press. He upgraded track by setting it in mass concrete (when this was still politically possible) and even the Government could see that removing trams would be a waste of the investment. He argued that trams would always attract more patronage than an equivalent bus service, and proved it in 1956 when the Bourke St bus service (which had replaced a cable tram line) was upgraded to a tram in time for the Olympic games, despite opposition voiced in the newspapers. No doubt the cause was aided by an intransigent union, who were so determined that any bus which replaced a tram must have two-man crewing, that the economics was not really weighted in favour of the bus anyway. The other factor in Melbourne's favour that is often mentioned is the wide main streets, which meant that there was less obstruction of cars than in other cities. By the mid-1970s, Melbourne could see how lucky she had been not to have followed the fashions of the 1950s, and even the conservative government, normally given to starving public transport to death, agreed to the purchase of new trams.
“light rail” transit continued in the 1980s and 1990s. Interestingly, a new City-Circle tram line was built and opened in 1994 to run around the heart of Melbourne’s downtown area. A conservative government decided that the government-owned tram operator had to be privatized, and Yarra Trams came to be privately operated on a long term franchise basis; the government owning the right of way and the tracks leased out to the operator.
At first there were two operators, but since April 2004 has remained as the only operator.

Our tram tour of Melbourne-- Squeekie and I boarded the 109 Line tram at its end of the line station opposite the Port Melbourne pier, and rode it into the heart of downtown. There we boarded one of the famous W-class trolleys (Car 982) to ride the “City Circle” tour, a free service operated by Yarra Trams that is one of the city’s most popular tourist attractions. These historic trams run on a circular route around Melbourne's Central Business District, running past or near many of central Melbourne's major tourist attractions. (There are also special restaurant trams running on this line at certain times, but we did not see any of these.)

After the spin around the city we got off at historic Flinders Street Station so I could get some train pictures. Then we had a snack at a shopping mall on the banks of the Yarra River, and caught a 109 back to the Pier and our ship. Squeekie has said that she did not get enough of Melbourne, and I agree, but for different reasons. In any case, I am grateful to her for allowing me to ride steam and electric and snap train pictures all day long, while she was deprived of her explorations. Thanks, Squeek!

Crossing the Bar-- We returned to Rotterdam around 4:30 in the afternoon, as the ship was departing before 6pm. As Rotterdam pulled away from the pier we stood forward on Deck Six saying good-bye to Melbourne and hoping to return someday soon. The vast expanse of Port Philip Bay offered us some nice views, but after about two hours we arrived at the entrance to the open ocean. This area is known as “the Rip” because of the sharp contrast between the calm waters of the huge bay and the rough waters of the water known as Bass Strait outside. (Bass Strait is the body of water separating the island of Tasmania from Australia.) A sharp difference in water depths in combination with powerful tidal streams and a significant bar at the mouth of Port Philip creates very obvious rough water, and can be seen in the pictures we took. Captain Olav had told us of the difficulty in crossing the bar. As Rotterdam waved about in the rough waters, we bid farewell to Melbourne. Our next stop, after another day at sea, will be Adelaide.

Squeekie two-thirds of the way up to the top of the Sydney Harbour Bridge

Squeek and Moss enjoy a pint at the Lord Nelson Pub

Squeekie becomes friendly with a baby crocodile at the Taronga Zoo

Moss on the world’s steepest inclined railway

Happy Birthday, Moss!


Day Twenty-two (Tuesday, February 10, 2009)-- G’day, mate! We’re in Australia! We actually tied up at the Overseas Passenger Terminal on Circular Quay in Sydney just after midnight. When we awoke in the morning we could look out from our verandah and see the famous Sydney Opera House just on the other side of the waterway, about 200 yards away or so. It was dramatic, but leavened by the fact that it is grey, overcast, and raining. (We later learned from some Sydneysiders that there had been a dramatic change in the weather this day. Before there had been a long hot and dry spell, with the temperature one day being the hottest ever in recorded history, over 40 degrees Celsius; they welcomed the rain because it cooled things off.) So we woke up to Sydney, Australia’s biggest and most dynamic city. . . .

A bit of Aussie history first-- The first humans traveled across the sea from Indonesia into Australia about 70,000 years ago, but the ancestors of Australia’s Aborigines did not come over until about 20,000 years later. Europeans began to encroach upon Australia in the 1500s; first came sightings by Portuguese explorers, then by the Dutch. The famous English pirate William Dampier saw the Australian foreshore in the eighteenth century. British explorer James Cook sailed along the entire east coast in 1770, stopping at Botany Bay (just south of where Sydney is today) during this voyage. Cook claimed the “newly discovered” southern continent for Great Britain, and named it “New South Wales.”

In 1779, Joseph Banks, a naturalist who had been on Captain Cook’s voyage of discovery, suggested that the British government could solve overcrowding problems in its prisons by transporting convicts to New South Wales. In 1787 the so-called “First Fleet” set sail for Botany Bay under the command of Captain Arthur Philip, who became the new colony’s first governor. The fleet was comprised of eleven ships, and transported 750 male and female convicts, four companies of marines, and enough supplies for two years. The First Fleet landed at Sydney Cove in what today is Sydney Harbour in 1788. Sydney is thus the first European colony to have been established in Australia. At this time an estimated 5,000 aboriginal people lived in the area, but they were quickly pushed aside by the rapid urbanization of the colony around Sydney Harbour. Transportation of convicts to Australia ended in the 1830s, and the colony of New South Wales got a strong boost in 1851 when gold was discovered east of Sydney in a community named Ballarat. This discovery triggered a gold rush which rivaled that in California; it was the first of several gold discoveries on the southern continent.

Sydney has grown to become the largest city in Australia; at present it sports about 4.5 million residents in the city and suburbs. Part of this growth stems from the reality that Sydney Harbour is without question the finest natural harbour in the Southern hemisphere, which has encouraged the economic development of the region. The city also has attracted immigrants from around the world—not just Great Britain—and this has given the city a cosmopolitan flair.

As the city grew it developed a public transit system of great sophistication (you must have known that I would get on to this topic soon enough). Sydney was the only Australian city to have utilised all of the four generally recognised forms of tramway traction, that is, horse, steam, cable and electric, and it is generally accepted that the Sydney system was one of the most extensive publicly-owned tramway networks in the world. In addition to the main city network, there were a number of isolated lines in the suburbs, generally feeding suburban railway stations or Sydney Harbour ferry services; also two private lines (Americans would call these “Interurbans”) operated for many years.

The city began with horsecars in 1861, and in 1879 opened the first of what soon grew into a network of steam trams. The steam trams ran on tracks in the middle of the street; they were trains of several passenger cars—often called “toast racks” from their open sides—pulled by tiny steam locomotives called “dummies” which were enclosed in housing to make them less frightening to horses on the street. Steam tram technology brought with it many problems, and the city began to look at other options. Sydney became one of very few cities outside of North America to utilize San Francisco-style cable car technology, installed in hilly areas such as the North Shore (1886) and Edgecliff (1894). Finally, with the appearance of electric technology in the 1890s, the city’s tramways were quickly converted. New lines were built to previously unsettled areas, which could then support a rapid residential development. At its peak in the 1920s, the Sydney Main System operated just over 1500 trams on 181 miles of trackage, and carried an average of 1.1 million passengers each day, making it by far Australia’s largest tram system. Sydney lost its trams completely between 1950 and 1961, but in 1997 a new light rail service from Central Station to Darling Harbour commenced operations.

I just had to spend a few hundred words on the fascinating (and somewhat tragic) story of Sydney’s street railways, but now on to what we did today. . . .

What we did today-- One of the most popular tourist attractions in Sydney is the opportunity to climb to the top of the Harbour Bridge. Squeekie wanted to give this a try; in fact, she had been contemplating it for months, spurred on by the fact that Jeff Klarich and his wife (friends from work and church) had done it a year earlier. Still, it is a scary thing to climb up a narrow steel beam to a point over 400 feet above the harbour water below. . . .

At breakfast this morning, Squeekie was openly and obviously nervous. She could barely drink down a glass of orange juice, and appeared like the condemned at their last meal. But at the same time she was brave, refusing any excuse to forego the opportunity to undertake this adventure. A little after 8 am we left the Rotterdam and walked through the old historic district known as “The Rocks” to get to the “Bridge Climb” meeting point at 5 Cumberland Street. We arrived early. Squeekie was a bit nervous but determined to climb, and I was eager to watch my brave girl do this dramatic adventure. You will have noticed that I was NOT going to do the climb myself. Quite aside from the health realities which prevented me from climbing, there was the reality that I have no head for heights. (I still remember our visit to New York City in 1977, when Squeekie and I went to the top of the World Trade Center, the Windows on the World Restaurant, and I could not walk any closer than about 20 feet from the windows.) So anyway, although I would not do the climb myself, I would walk over the pedestrian walkway on to the main deck of the bridge, and from a convenient view spot at the southernmost pylon of the bridge I could take telephoto pictures of my brave Squeekie as she climbed. She could not take a camera herself, so I was the designated photographer of this historic event.

Squeekie checked in and was told she could join an earlier climb if she wished, and she did, “just to get it done with that much faster,” she informed me. So off she went into the preparation rooms, while I stayed behind to talk to the crew while waiting for her to reemerge ready for the climb. Perhaps it would be best for Squeekie to tell her own story, and then I’ll pick up the narrative. . . .

Squeekie’s Account of Climbing the Bridge-- The alarm woke me up very early this morning for my exciting adventure. I am surprised I slept so well and I did not feel at all nervous. We dressed quickly and headed up to the Lido for a light breakfast. I did not want to eat too much but I felt I needed something in my stomach to make the climb to the top of the Sydney Harbor Bridge. No tea or prunes for me today. I just had a raisin bun and some cheese and meat.

With map in hand, we walked up Argyle Street looking for Cumberland Road and the place where I would meet my tour group for the bridge climb. This area of Sydney, called The Rocks, is quite hilly and our map didn’t indicate that Cumberland was actually elevated at this point, so we walked a tad out of our way but before long we found the correct address. We were early for my tour--I didn’t need to be there until 9 AM—but the fellow behind the desk said they had space available on an earlier tour. I agreed to take it. Now that I was there, I wanted to get the tour over with before my courage could run out.

I sat in a little waiting area watching a movie describing the climb itself. Before long, my group was called and we entered a small room where we listened to a short orientation briefing to the climb, signed a release form, and had a breath test. Next we moved to another room where we each introduced ourselves, told where we were from and why we were taking this tour. In this little group of 14 people, two others were from California. Others were from Canada and Holland. It was quite an international group. Next we went to individual dressing rooms where we stripped down to our undergarments and donned the fashionable jumpsuits and rain pants provided by the tour company.

Before proceeding any further, each of us had to go through a metal detector. Climbers are not permitted to carry anything on the tour—no cell phones, cameras, watches, hoop earrings, wallets, nothing. I suppose this is insurance that no one will accidentally drop anything from the bridge which could hurt someone below. Free lockers were provided for all of our personal things.

Next, we met our guide, Vic, who helped us put on the rest of our climbing gear. The first item was a belt to which most everything else attached. Next came the tether that would attach to a cable on the guide rail marking the path of our walking tour ensuring that no one would fall over the side of the bridge. Then we were issued gloves, a handkerchief, hat, tethers for the hats and glasses, fleece, and a rain jacket. Everything attached either to the belt or to rings on our jumpsuits. Now we were all dressed and outfitted.

The next part of our orientation was a practice walk on raised scaffolding to simulate walking on the bridge itself. At roughly 15 feet above the ground, inside a building, I could handle this walk with minimum anxiety, but now I was beginning to question whether I could handle the actual trek many more feet above water.

Finally, we donned headsets and radios which we also attached to our clothing or belt. Our guide would be speaking to us through the radio so that we could hear him clearly regardless of our position in the group’s single file line-up. At last, we were ready to go. I felt like an astronaut on my way to the launch pad, and thoughts of Krista McCauliff came to mind as we exited the building. Moss took my picture. I hoped my fate would be better than hers.

We walked a few yards north to another building where we climbed several stairways to the start of our climb on the bridge itself. So far, so good. At the top of these stairs, we were in a sort of rocky cave. Vic asked those who were the most anxious about the climb to come first, right behind him. The couple from California stepped forward, then Emma, a young woman from England, now living in Dubai, followed them, and I followed Emma. Two young Japanese women followed me. Each of us attached our tether to the guide cable and we stepped out onto the bridge. Oh my, what had I gotten myself into? My knees immediately went weak and started to shake. Had I been able to, I’m sure I would not have gone any further, but I was already committed.

I stepped out onto the two wooden planks which comprised the floor of our walkway for this portion of the tour and tightly gripped the guide rails on each side of me with both hands. I have no idea how far above the ground we were at this point. We were still over land but beneath the roadway. I was thankful that Emma was in front of me because she was more frightened than I was and walked quite slowly. I got accustomed to walking on this narrow scaffold where I could see all the way down to the ground, but I was wondering how I was going to handle walking on the arch of the bridge. I just kept telling myself that I could do it.

Before long, we came to the first pylon and more stairs, but at the top of the stairs was a series of four ladders to ascend to get to the archway itself. These ladders were nearly vertical and open to the traffic on the bridge below. I inched myself carefully up the first ladder, then eased myself over to the second one and started up, focusing solely on each step and trying not to look anywhere else. At last, I was on the fourth ladder and about halfway up I spotted Moss on the pedestrian walkway on the bridge taking pictures of me. When I got to the top, I waved. Wow, was I brave, not only to climb the ladders but also to let go of the guard rail!

In retrospect, the worst part of the trek was behind me. Once on the arch, we were on solid steel about 8 feet wide. Our pathway was marked with steps and of course the omnipresent guide rails. I followed Emma focusing my attention on the steps as our group made its way up the south side of the western arch. About a third of the way up the arch, it dawned on me that this part of the climb was not too bad. Our group stopped for a moment to enjoy the view, hear some stories that Vic had to tell us about the bridge, and have our pictures taken with the Sydney Opera House in the background. I even waved to Moss standing far below us on the pedestrian walkway. On a clear day, the view would surely have been fantastic, but it was drizzly today and the rain clouds made it difficult to see very clearly. I was glad it was cool though because I was dripping with sweat inside my jumpsuit!

We continued the rest of our climb to the very top of the arch where we stopped again for another view, more stories, and another picture. We learned that Sydneysiders affectionately call their bridge the “coathanger.” We also learned that they are not very original when dreaming up names to call things. They built the bridge and called it the Sydney Harbor Bridge. They built an opera house and called it the Sydney Opera House. Beautiful blue mountains surround the city which they have named, you guessed it, the Blue Mountains, and so on. When something is really, really special, they just add the word “great” in front, like the Great Barrier Reef.

Continuing on our trek, we now crossed from one arch to the other on a narrow footbridge spanning the two arches. Here we were just on steel grating with a direct view straight down to the surface of the water 429.6 feet below us. Needless to say, I had trouble looking down so I just kept my attention focused on getting to the other side as fast as I could. But, Vic wanted to take pictures of each of us again, so we had to stop midway across. When it was my turn, I bravely let go of both guard rails and for one brief moment, I posed with both of my arms in the air!

The descent down the eastern arch was fairly easy to me now. After all, consider what I had already accomplished! Halfway down, Vic took pictures of each of us again, this time the Rotterdam was in the background of my picture. But then I remembered that there was another set of four ladders to descend; only these ladders were over the railroad tracks. Undaunted, I grabbed the wrong hand rail and gingerly started my climb downward when the guide told me it would be much easier to descend if I held onto the lower hand rail. After going down the first ladder, the next three were a cinch.

Just when I thought the worst was now behind me, my confidence vanished when our guide led us down a short open stairway to another open walkway over water beneath the roadway. To make matters worse, we had to pause there while he snapped another picture of each of us. But then, we were back in the pylon and onto the wooden walkway again which wasn’t at all scary anymore, and before long we were off the bridge and heading back to the tour center. I have no idea how long we were actually on the bridge, but I estimate it was about 1¾ hours.

Once we changed back into our own clothes, each of us was given a copy of the group picture and a certificate documenting that we had completed the bridge climb. Moss met me at the tour center and we purchased copies of the pictures that Vic took of me. Moss had followed along much of my trek with his camera and telephoto lens, walking nearly halfway across the pedestrian part of the bridge himself. He shot some great photographs and should have earned a certificate too.

Back to My Account-- So that is the narrative of the adventure of my brave, bridge-climbing circumnavigator, as I called her for days afterward. All I can add is that I walked over a mile up onto the bridge and out the pedestrian path along the main roadway to get to the pylon where I could photograph Squeekie as she climbed. We both left No. 5 Cumberland Street at the same moment, and both arrived at the pylon at nearly the same time, so I was able to get pictures of her climbing the ladder steps up the southwest main vertical beam, and then again as she walked up the western top beam. I have included in this blog entry the picture I took of Squeekie about one-third of the way up the top arch beam, where she and her group of climbers stopped, turned, and waved back down at me on the roadway below. It was nice of them to include little, earth-bound me. . . .

A little more history is in order. The Sydney Harbour Bridge is a landmark structure. Following decades of discussion about its necessity, location, and design, site clearance began in 1923. Construction of the bridge began late in 1928. Construction of the steel arch of the bridge began in 1929, and once the arch halves were completed the cables used to hold them up were slowly released to allow the two halves of the bridge to come together. The roadway and two sets of tram and railway tracks were completed in 1931. On January 19, 1932, the first test train safely crossed the bridge. Opening celebrations were held on Saturday, March 19, 1932, against the backdrop of the international Great Depression. As the Premier of New South Wales was about to cut the ribbon and declare the bridge open, a political opponent rode up on horseback, drew his sword, and cut the ribbon, declaring the bridge “open in the name of the decent citizens of New South Wales.” The opening ceremonies were broadcast live throughout Australia and in Great Britain and America as well.

After the climb was finished, we walked back to the Rotterdam for some refreshment and then grabbed a taxi down George Street to the Queen Victoria Building, a beautifully restored former office building now a shopping mall. Then we walked back up George Street (oh, were my blisters hurting by this time) and along Argyle Street (how I love the names on streets settled by British peoples) to get to the historic Lord Nelson Pub, a world-famous British-style pub which brews its own beer. We stopped to enjoy a pint; I had their Quayle Ale, which is a hefeweissen-style pilsner, and Squeekie had their Victory Bitter, a British-style pale ale. YUM!!

We had to cut short our visit to the Lord Nelson in order to return to the Rotterdam to prepare for our evening adventure. Holland-America offered a gratis tour for the suite residents; we would be taken to Sydney’s world-famous Taronga Zoo for a private viewing of native animals, followed by a special dinner. It was a great idea, but was confounded in its execution by the weather. The rain, so welcomed by thirsty Sydneysiders, picked up in the afternoon and made it difficult for us to view the animals in their native enclosures. Several busloads of guests trundled across the Sydney Bridge and over to the Zoo precinct. We took a cableway up to the top of the zoo, which is located on a hill with a fine view over Sydney Harbour. Our group got in to see wallabies and an emu, but some guests could not see anything due to the rainy weather. After the viewing we all returned to the zoo’s events pavilion where we were seated for dinner. While the zoo staff came around with several small native animals for the guests to pet (Squeekie got to pet a crocodile and a tree python), Australian wine came out in great quantity. His timetable confounded by the rain, the caterer struggled to get canapés and dishes out to an increasingly rambunctious crowd which, nonetheless, enjoyed the Australian wine. Some of the guests at our table alone went through six bottles! Although the dinner was not as fine as some we have enjoyed aboard the Rotterdam, it was good enough, and we enjoyed getting to know some of our table mates. Also, the dining room sported a wonderful view of Sydney from across the harbour; Squeekie got some nice panorama shots before and after sunset. Eventually we all returned to the ship to rest for tomorrow’s day of discovery.


Day Twenty-three (Wednesday, February 11, 2009)-- Today is my 62nd birthday! At least it is here in Australia, although it is still yesterday back home. A number of the guests on this cruise have used this difference in dates to justify a longer birthday celebration, and I guess that I’ll do the same—today is the special day here, and we’ll carry the celebration over into tomorrow because it will still be the significant date “back home.” When I opened the door to our cabin on the way to breakfast there was a sign taped to the door announcing to the world “Happy Birthday Bill,” with a drawing of the famous Puffing Billy locomotive prominently displayed. It was a surprise from my Squeekie, and I was very pleased!

Today we are going outside of Sydney for a tour up into the Blue Mountains. We left the city and crossed over the “Anzac Bridge,” and on the western end of the bridge was a large statue remembering those Aussies and Kiwis (New Zealanders) who lost their lives in World War One. I have noticed that there are many places in Australia remembering those who fought and died in the First World War, and especially in the Gallipoli Campaign; I think that their participation in this war was the start of a sense of nationhood for Australians. We stopped at the site of the 2000 Sydney Olympics near Homebush Bay. The Aussies are very proud of this venue, with its energy-saving photovoltaics and all. . . .

Our tour guide today was Derek, an Aussie man with a wonderful sense of humour and a fine knowledge of the history of Australia and New South Wales (the state in which Sydney lies). As we threaded our way through the western suburbs we saw how this part of Australia is emerging with a distinct culture which, although rooted in British practice, is definitely distinctively “Aussie.” Our highway, which paralleled a main-line railway that clearly retained its passenger service, left the plains which formed the western suburbs of Sydney and climbed into the Blue Mountains. These mountains are very old, so are not that high in the perception of Western Americans—there are no 10,000-foot craigs here, very little seems to rise above 1500 feet in elevation. These are called the “Blue” mountains for a very interesting reason. When viewed from the coast at Sydney, the distant mountains appear to be very blue, a blue much more intense than just because they are being viewed at a distance through the atmosphere. This distinctive, intense blue colour comes from the fact that the predominant tree growing on their slopes is the gum tree, known to Californians as the eucalyptus. The leaves of the eucalyptus exude a type of oil (the odor of which is well known to Californians because it gives the tree its distinctive and famous smell) which gives the green leaves a blue cast. This blue cast is so predominant that it gives the entire mountain range a distinct colour.

Our tour bus drove through small towns which are vacation destinations for Sydneysiders; there are many “homes away from home” and weekend getaways in these vacation communities. We drove to the community known as Katoomba-Leura, where a large canyon (the Aussies call it their “Grand Canyon,” although it is nowhere near as deep or as large as ours) exposes the layers of sandstone which underlie all of Eastern Australia. A hundred years ago coal was mined here—we were told that a huge seam of Carboniferous Age coal (Permian era?) runs all along Eastern Australia. Sydneysiders would come up into the area to view the lovely rock formations, the famous Three Sisters are found here, and to enjoy the flora and fauna found in the great canyons in this part of the Blue Mountains. It was easy enough to climb down into these canyons, but at the end of the day it was quite difficult a climb to come back up to the rim of the canyon where the town of Katoomba sits, and where the trains back to the city were found. So hikers fell into the custom of using the coal mine’s incline railway to be hoisted back up to the top. At first it was just a question of bribing the miners to get a ride; later it became custom, and when the mining petered out in the 1930s, the incline was retained for the use of hikers. Today the incline railway is preserved as an important part of the experience when visiting this area. It is advertised as “the world’s steepest incline railway,” and, after having ridden it myself, I believe that to be true.

The coach took us to a place where we were supposed to be able to see the famous “Three Sisters” rock formation and the “Grand” Canyon below, but it was so foggy and overcast the we could not see across the parking lot. Then we took a cable car down into the canyon below, where there is a magnificent rain forest. It was very interesting to quite literally descend on the cable car into the fog and not see what lay below, but gradually as we went lower, the tops of tree ferns appeared, and occasionally we got glimpses of the rocky walls of the canyon. Once down below and off the cable car, we walked along a nature path that was fascinating in the extreme despite the foggy and rainy weather. This was the first time I had ever had explained to me in detail a temperate rain forest. We saw Australian Tree Ferns that towered 60 feet or more, and many other types of plants native to this part of Australia. The flora grew as though it were a jungle; there were even what the Aussies call “Water Vines” strangling other trees. After a short walk along a pathway bordering the steep walls of the canyon we came to where there were remains of the coal mining which once had been done here. Old tools were displayed, as was one of the tunnel galleries and other old materials. The remains of the original incline railway were displayed, and then Squeekie and I arrived at the present day incline. It didn’t look that steep to me down at the bottom of the canyon, but the incline cars were all covered with protection screening which hinted at a difficult ride higher up the canyon wall. Because it was so overcast and foggy, there was no way I could look up along the railway to see how steep it really was. Squeekie boarded the upper car and I stuffed myself in next to her—I confess it was a tight squeeze. A few moments later the incline rail cars began their 8 minute journey up to the top of the canyon. Just after leaving the lower station the angle at which the cars ran became significantly steeper, shifting from an estimated 42 degrees to as much as 54 degrees. Up and up we went, past small tree ferns and sandstone outcrops, the car changing its angle frequently until it seemed as though we were riding vertically in an elevator, not in an incline railway car. Squeekie took my picture and I took hers, but they really don’t convey the steepness of this ride.

Finally we arrived at the top of the canyon and debarked into the gift shop. I spent a few minutes searching for books on the history of the area, not very successfully I must add. Eventually our bus (“coach” in Aussie-speak) picked us up and drove us through a very quaint little community named Leura, depositing us on the main street where there were nice shops and cafes. Squeekie and I selected an interesting café called “Post Cafe” because it was built in the town’s former post office, where we enjoyed a nice lunch. Then we walked through the town discovering its shops. I found a good bookstore with some local materials; Squeek found a Christmas store. Then we stopped at a chocolate store for a hot chocolate to combat the rain and cold before returning to the coach.

The ride down the mountain and back to Sydney was interesting, in part thanks to the wonderful narration given by Derek our tour guide. When we were deposited at the Circular Quay Overseas Passenger Terminal, where the Rotterdam was tied, I chose to wander around taking pictures while Squeekie walked off to do some shopping. I went over to the foot of Circular Quay to photograph the ferry boat operations headquartered there; it reminded me of the San Francisco ferry services I saw as a child in the summer of 1954 when I visited Gama in San Francisco, just a few years before the old ferries were all removed from service. The Sydney ferries are fast and frequent, and very clearly a major component of the city’s public transit system in no danger of abandonment. I spent two hours photographing ferries, the Rotterdam, and other interesting aspects along the Circular Quay.

Then I returned to the ship to await the return of my beloved Squeekie. The Rotterdam prepared to depart from Sydney at about 7pm, and Squeekie and I went out on the open deck forward on Deck Six to watch our great ship leave this grand harbour. We sailed past the bridge which Squeekie had climbed, and the lovely Opera House, and the other inlets of the great harbor as darkness fell. Finally we both took pictures of the city behind the foreland lighthouse. Squeekie and I both enjoyed this dynamic city and have decided that we must return.

At dinner this evening I enjoyed what Squeek had arranged to celebrate my birthday. A special cake was prepared, and the serving staff (and many of the guests at the tables around us) sang “Happy Birthday.” The wait staff also sang the Indonesian song to mark a birthday. Don and Iris, who sit at the table next to ours, very kindly gave me a card, but unfortunately the card Leslee had sent (thanks for the effort, Munchie!) was returned to her. The cake was very tasty and we sent slices to people at several of the surrounding tables. Thanks to the efforts of my wonderful Squeekie I had a very happy birthday down here in Aussie-land.