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.