Tag Archives: cruise

Feb8

Bugs, a mouth full of moth and the changing of the waters.

Posted on February 8, 2013 by helenwilding05

The Amazon rainforest encompasses 5,500,000 square km. In this vast space countless bugs: big, small, discovered and undiscovered, live in a delicate balance. However, in this 5,500,000 square kilometres of open air and freedom, one particular moth decided the place it wanted to fly was… my mouth. Yes. I was enjoying a carefree glass of red one night when … bam!.. a huge moth the size of a CD collided with my teeth. As I sat there, stunned, my friends laughed heartily and delighted in pointing out that I now had powdery lines where its wings had hit my face and took the opportunity to take many pictures. I looked like a dishevelled Joker from the batman movies! I was not impressed…

Not impressed after tasting my first Amazonian Moth!

I’m not kidding… these things were huge!

Every night the moths would flock to the light of the ship and cluster in great numbers on portholes and light fittings. Their massive patterned wings, mostly browns and oranges, were decidedly retro and uncannily had the ability to make parts of ship look like they were wrapped in 1970’s wallpaper! However, as the sun rose the next day, these stowaways found themselves without shade and clinging to hot metal that reached searing temperatures by midday. The result was the unfortunate daily massacre of hundred of bugs. Whilst at night we grew accustomed to kamikaze grasshoppers and beetles sharing the dinner table and having a swim in our glasses of Malbec, each day brought the same crunch of countless victims of the Brazilian sun as we tried in vain to tip toe around their roasted little bodies. It sounds awful but we really did get used to it. That is except for Maude. Maude was a passenger with a heart bigger than any one I’ve ever met. A vegetarian and a crusader for animal welfare back in the UK she became the advocate for bugs rights during the 3 months we spent in South America. Unbeknownst to anyone, Maude was collecting and ‘rescuing’ what she termed ‘the poor beasties’ and hiding them on her balcony in the hope that they would survive. It was only after we had travelled through Argentina, past Cape Horn, and up through Chile to Peru that she finally confided in me she had a menagerie of insects waiting to be set free…. Unfortunately, having gone through 2 oceans, past icebergs and 2 crossings of the equator her labours were in vain. Bless her. She had a little funeral and a glass of sherry in their honour. What a lovely, if somewhat quirky, lady she was.

A curious dinner guest

The poor souls that didn’t make it.

The Changing of the water is a phenomenon where two of the great rivers in the Amazon basin meet. It was about 6.30 in the morning as we approached Manaus, 1000 miles from the coast, that we witnessed the opaque black waters of the Rio Negro and the brown strong tea coloured waters of the Amazon river meet. Tired eyed and hungover we sat in the balmy dawn waiting. Minutes turned into an hour and still we sat. Tom began learning the Argentinian tango with the dance teachers on a little patch of astro-turf on the deck and I settled into my latest Nora Roberts novel. We were about to give up and go in for breakfast… Then we saw it dead ahead. There was a line in the flow of the water. A barrier appeared where the waters refused to mix. The resulting appearance was similar to oil and water. The black of the Rio Negro affronting the sandy Amazon who held her ground in defiance. We all leaned over bars and railings to see the moment the ship passed from the brown into the black. The change in the density of the water was so strong that there was a tangible ‘bump’ when the ships bow hit the new river. Small boats streamed past us into the city harbour kicking up ebony trails in their wake. It truly is a strange and alien spectacle to behold. It is yet another example of how this part of the world takes what you think you know and turns it on its head. Water meeting water here can be a war, not a gentle mixing of compounds like we see everywhere else. The coffee coloured Amazon gave way to the deep dark chocolate bay of Manaus as we looked on amazed.

The view directly overboard

The moment the rivers meet

We were to leave in Manaus and fly back to the UK, heading off to North Africa and the Canary Islands before rejoining our lovely ship in Chile in 3 weeks time. Later that morning, bags packed and cabin emptied, I sat with a cup of tea enjoying the last of the February sun before my flight. We were moored directly opposite the riverboats that take tourists, supplies and locals further up the river to places we couldn’t quite reach: Little Amazonian villages and towns that I could only dream about. Men sat on the dock drinking beer and chatting for hours on end stopping occasionally to haul some rope or laugh with other crews. The bay was a hive of activity and colour with smells that weren’t so pleasant but intriguingly exotic catching the wind to my seat. The announcement came over the speakers that it was time to leave for the airport. Grabbing my bag I promised myself I’d be back and that next time I would be on one of the little boats, meandering through unknown places closer to the piranhas than ever before.

The busy dock

Sittin’ on the dock o’ the bay

As we flew over Manaus, the impossible city surrounded by 5 million square km of jungle, civilisation became very small indeed. The two rivers scared the land like spilled hot drinks, and, in the midst of the stain, a white speck – our ship and home for so long now – floated on its way. The colours of the houses and the people faded to faint dots on an eternity of green. Hidden below us lived the only untouched peoples on earth. It was a wonderful thought, and as we bounced along over tropic storms, I fell into restful dreams of adventures I was yet to have and slept until we reached Rio.

The changing of the waters

It was a long journey back to the UK and to be honest I can’t remember much of it except the hunger from 18 hours of aeroplane food. However, I will never forget arriving at Manchester airport in February and stepping into 4 inches of snow and wearing only my flip-flops, hot pants and cami-vest. Yeah. The UK was COLD! Thank goodness I was only there a week. Next stop Casablanca the Atlantic islands… then on to Chile.

Feb5

Cocktails with Piranhas… an Amazon Adventure

Posted on February 5, 2013 by helenwilding05

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I have an adventure hat. I wear it for adventures. My colleagues and friends laughed at my tatty hemp woven hat as it hung in my cabin for 4 months whilst we meandered our way across Europe, north Africa and the Atlantic on our way to Brazil and its immense Amazon river. However, the morning we called in Alter do Chao, a remote sandy haven a few hundred miles up-stream, I donned my hat and was proud. My pippi-longstocking braids were in place and I was off adventuring!! Little did I know that my day would include hoarding fallen mangoes, bullet ants bigger than my lipstick, cocktails and swimming in piranha infested water! However, when one wears an adventure hat… adventures will happen.

Moored just offshore in Alter Do Chao

Our adventure took the form of a trip to an arboretum on the edge of primary rainforest about 50 miles from Santarem and Alter do Chao. An arboretum in the greatest rainforest on earth confused me somewhat at first, but the premise of the place is clear. It is a protected area where the trees are catalogued and researched. They open their gates for people like us to experience the majesty of the primary rainforest and hopefully appreciate the delicate balance of life it provides.

I was, in fact I was going into the rainforest with a group of 50 pensioners on an organised and probably somewhat tame ‘meander’. However, that didn’t dampen my excitement one bit. This was my first foray into Brazil! As I emerged into the hot morning sun, the tattered straw hat rammed onto my pigtailed head, excitement bubbled through me. We were moored about 200 metres from shore at Alter do Chao just beyond the town of Santarem from where the tender boats would take us across the thick brown water to the shallow sandy banks of the village. Stepping onto the sand my flip flops slipped and sank into the heated ground as I virtually skipped to the old wooden walkway leading over the marshland to the village square. Tom joined me for the trip, his excitement rivaled mine as he poked fun at the now infamous hat and raced me through the village square to the bus that would take us into the jungle.

The pier at Alter Do Chao

The bus was old and hot. It shuddered along crater filled roads deeper into the Brazilian wilds. Shuddering indeed but not in a refrained British sense of the word. This bus raced, bounced and careered mercilessly past markets and countless churches: icons of Mary fruitlessly blessing us as we rocketed towards blind bends… maybe she expected to see us soon. The fact that this bus was older than my parents didn’t seem to bother the driver one bit. The sooner we got there, the sooner he had a break. Brazil is wonderful.

One of many Churches on the way to primary jungle…

The road to the wild…

As Brazil streaked past the windows Raul filled in a largely disinterested audience on his Amazonian heritage. He grew up in the jungle and hadn’t left it until he was 14 years old when he went to Santarem for school. His memories of leaving one world and joining another were vivid and fascinating. He spoke of living, as most Amazonian tribes do, without knowledge of money or outside influences, of needing nothing except what the forest can give on an hour by hour basis. Life dictated by the heat of the day and the sound of the wind in the trees. “Could you go back to that life?” I asked him. “I could walk into the jungle right now with the clothes on my back and live happily for the rest of my life” He replied. That’s freedom.

The bus pulled to the side of the now undistinguishable track. We piled out into the heat of the day and heard the deafening sound of jungle insects. The Amazon is a largely nocturnal environment due to the heat of the day. The life that buzzes and chatters around you during daylight hours tends to be winged and many legged! Covered in bug spray I stepped into the shade of the canopy… me and my adventure hat disappeared into the jungle.

I don’t remember how many kinds of trees we were introduced too. Rubber trees, hollow trees that resonate sound for 10 miles if you hit them with a big stick (perfect for if you’re lost apparently- I didn’t want to find out!), trees that seem to grow from the sky downwards, wrapping their tendril branches around their more traditional rivals. All in all the scale of the place made me feel like a borrower! I was tiny with insects bigger than my hand rustling in the trees. It was incredible. We followed the track past a mound of roots that arched like a jungle gym above our heads and below our feet. Before I reached them I heard gasps, some screams and many expletives! Bullet ants swarmed around our feet. These are ants that are 2 inches long and have a sting that causes excruciating pain for 24 hours if touched! Raul mentioned that in his tribe a boy must put his arm into a bullet ant nest before he can become a man. Wow. I lingered as long as I dared and set off to see some more.

They were big. They were scary. They were well camouflaged!

The great thing about traveling with Tom is his ability to play. Soon we began to hang back from the rest of the group, winding our way off the track and pretending we were explorers. Posing in funny angles next to trees to look like we were climbing them in our snapshots. Peeping through undergrowth looking for animals we imagined were waiting to be discovered. Slipping and sliding in mud and undergrowth like children. We were hot, we were muddy, we were tired and we were having the most fun I could remember in all my adult life. Arriving back at the bus, we filled our arms and back packs with mangoes from the jungle floor as the passengers looked at us as though we were mad. Packed back into the furnace of a bus, we snacked on our mangoes and dozed all the way back to the village. We had been gone 4 hours… it felt like days!

Trees and vines weaving around one another

Footbridge over caymans and snakes…

Feeling tiny…

And tinier…

If you’re lost you can hit this tree with a stick and it can be heard for 10 miles!

Our lovely guide Raul

Free mangoes!!

Time to go

Who needs a TomTom when you can find your way with this???

Hot and exhausted Tom and I decided we needed a sugary drink…. Asking a vendor with a pile of limes if she sold juice she emphatically waved us over. “Yes! $1!” Sold. However, she tipped a cup of sugar into each glass, followed by 4 limes and what turned out to be 6 shots of Cachaca (sugarcane spirit)!!! Emboldened and somewhat hammered from our thirst quenching cocktail we proceeded to find the beach…..make friends with some local children… share their sweets with them… and swim in the great river. Cocktail in hand I placed my feet in the muddy water, the same water that held crocodiles, pink dolphins and the infamous piranhas. Their presence was tangible as the beach was littered with the less fortunate of these tiny terrors who had been caught and varnished for sale to the passengers! I caught Toms eye… Cocktails and Piranhas?… yes! With that we dove. I swam unseeing through the opaque water feeling the roots of plants and unknown inhabitants of the river rubbing against my legs. When I rose for breath I was joined by the children who had been paddling in the shallows. Passengers watched appalled from the banks, convinced we were playing with death whilst the locals laughed and splashed in themselves. I must admit, it probably wasn’t the wisest swim I’ve ever had, but I’m fine and well with no disease or injury to report. The piranhas kept their distance and Tom and I felt a kind of joy I’ve not managed to feel since.

The lovely lady who gave us our drinks

A glimpse of what was in the water… out of sight and very much more alive!

Cocktails!

The children we met on the beach

The moment I went under!

No turning back!

One of the local children enjoying a paddle!

The vicious sun dried us off as we walked back to the ship. Once there I headed to the bar for a cocktail… (without the Piranhas this time) and watched the equatorial sun set over the endless canopy of trees. All in all, it was a blooming lovely day.

Tom and I a little worse for wear!

A beautiful end to a perfect day.

Feb2

First night on the Amazon River…

Posted on February 2, 2013 by helenwilding05

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It was 1 am when we entered the mouth of the Amazon. If it wasn’t for the announcement I would never have known it. The Brazilian banks were still miles away and we wouldn’t see jungle till morning. However, intrigued I donned my formal gear (a strange rule… You had to be in formal attire after 6 pm if out in public areas… yes) and headed onto deck to take a look. I was completely alone and the night was inky black and oppressively hot. The only lights I could see were the spotlights illuminating the funnel and railed deck. There were no waves. The water slid silently past. Still and flat. The ship had long since retired to bed so no music permeated the air and no chatter or laughter bubbled up from the bars below. I stood for a minute considering just going back to bed…. Then I heard a quack. Yes a quack! I looked up, and circling the funnel was a flock of about 15 birds with blood red bellies illuminated in the eerie spotlights. They circled the funnel screeching to each other. They were the same shape as ducks but blood red! Just then a star shone through the heavily clouded sky. At least I thought it was a star. But no star could cut through that much cloud… As I watched, it got closer and closer. What was it? To this day I have no idea. I went to the outdoor phone. Called Toms cabin. I couldn’t witness all this by myself. I HAD to share it with someone. By the time Tom arrived the ‘star’ was hovering just a few feet above our heads. It was the size of a sparrow and shared the characteristics of a moth. When it beat its wings, orange flames seemed to wrap around its body obscuring it from view and making it look like a burning oddity floating over the deck. When its wings slowed the flames subsided leaving a seemingly naked moth fluttering banally. I decided something so mental and beautiful deserved a name. After some thought we decided upon Raul (for his south American nationality) Luis (for its light) and Billiante (for its brightness). Raul Luis Brillante entertained us for a few moments more then drifted off into the pitch black. I will NEVER forget that moment. I swear it was exactly like suddenly finding yourself in a Terry Pratchett novel or in Hogwarts. Nothing is recognisable. Fantasy creatures become real and experiences become suddenly childlike. It was wonderful.

As I didn’t have my camera…. thanks to www.viralblender.com/ for the shot.

Our attention turned to the rest of the life that was now populating our, recently deserted, deck. HUGE moths clustered on the spotlights and casting shadows like the Batman symbol, beetles the size of small eggs crawled over the astro-turf and the air tingled with creepy crawlies that defied description. We must have stood there an hour or more, a girl in a ballgown and a guy in a tuxedo, just looking and enjoying the unfamiliar in the middle of the Brazilian river in the small hours of the morning. I couldn’t wait for day break and a first glimpse of the rainforest. It proved to be worth the wait!… I have so much to say about the Amazon and many stories to tell so I’ll be adding them bit by bit to save you having to read a small novel each time I post! 😉 Have a great day and hopefully check back at some point. Next time… exploring the jungle and pink dolphins!

Jan29

Grenada: Grand Anse

Posted on January 29, 2013 by helenwilding05

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Grenada is a blur of hazy greens, deep dark blue, starling whites and accessorized with the bright stained-glass of towns shimmering out of its hillsides. Tom and myself decided to explore Grand Anse beach, a 2 mile long white sandy beach just a little distance around the coast from the port. ( http://www.grenadaguide.com/Beaches.htm ) We managed to catch a water taxi just as the heavens opened with a hot quick deluge. Through the sporadic rainfall we caught sight of houses and villages buried in the green foothills of the capital. Bright pink, sharp yellow and bold blue houses peeked out of the morning haze, winking their welcome to us as we rounded the cape into the sheltered bay of Grand Anse.

Our water taxi

The trip to Grand Anse

Houses peeking out from the green shore

As we docked, seemingly on cue, the cloud cleared and the sun burned away the remaining mist. The crescent of white glittering sand stretched far into the distance where boulders and sandbanks framed a river trickling into the ocean. The closest sections of beach were covered in sun loungers their proprietors already eying up the tourists ready to provide comfort and drinks… at a cost. Further up the beach, private hotels backed onto the ocean and their patches of sand were clear of loungers or umbrellas. We headed for the peace and shade of a tree about a half mile up the beach and claimed it with the universal symbol of a dropped bag and laid out towel! Leaving Tom to get settled I headed off for a run along the beach… not a great idea whilst wearing a strapless bikini top! Fortunately, modesty intact, I made it to the far end of the bay. The great thing about Grenada, I found, were the smiles. Granted they may have been the result of people quietly laughing at me trying to hold my top on whilst running haphazardly in the sand, but lets face it, who wouldn’t laugh at a pasty white girl lolloping down a beach semi clothed at 9 am! At one point a local dive instructor fell into pace beside me for about ½ a mile. I truly can’t remember what we talked about, but in breathless chatter I’m sure we became fast friends. Hot and exhausted I arrived back at our little tree, slapped on some factor 30 and crashed out with the kindle for a couple of hours.

Tom and I

Our little tree…

The water at Grand Anse wasn’t the turquoise placid sea we experienced in Barbados, it was a far darker affair. Deep blue water pushed forcefully at the sand and streaks of blackish green seaweed churned in the surf. The ocean seemed more foreboding in contrast to the desert island surroundings of the land. At the edge of the water the sand became harsher, thicker and more solid than the soft white under our tree. Standing with my feet in the surf, one wave sucked my footing away and left my feet in a cavern of sand. I liked that feeling. I liked that sense of power it held. The character of the sea that had been our home for so long, reminding us that she wasn’t always so pleasant. However, unperturbed we swam a little…. when, after a good 15 minutes swimming towards the water taxi rank, I found myself a good 200 meters further away from it, I decided enough was enough and exhausted, trundled back to my towel with a rumbling belly. Time to explore some local restaurants….

The dark sea contrasting the rest of the Caribbean

Powerful froth

Well, I can’t say we found a restaurant. But what we did find was a concrete back yard of a family home/café where Labrador puppies roamed free and a young man offered us the delights of controlled substances (which we naturally declined) whilst we ate his mothers chicken stew. It was FABULOUS. Yes, I found a chickens foot in my dish and a couple of feathers but the conversation was diverse, the food was tasty and home cooked and there were puppies to play with. A good hour later we ventured back into the midday sun and whiled away the hours reading and making friends with the various packs of people that polka dotted the beach closest to us.

Best lunch pals ever!!!

At one point a local man approached selling his wares. As the other tourists waved him off or, annoyingly, completely ignored him, I asked him what he was selling. He said that he could take a piece of drift wood from he beach and carve it into anything I liked and then make it into a necklace. I told him I love the infinity symbol as it reflects many of my spiritual beliefs, and so he picked up some wood and began to carve. 20 minutes later I had a bespoke necklace with an infinity sign craved from drift wood. He carved his name my name and the date onto the back whilst I asked him how long he’s been doing this. “Since I was 7” he said, “I’m now 81. I spend each day doing this and I always carve something new. I love my life”. I paid him $10 and felt lucky to have met him.

His name was Ariel and a hope he’s still there today, strolling down Grand Anse carving treasures for those lucky enough to cross his path.

As the day wore on we ventured to the local craft market to find some trinkets to take home. I wanted some vanilla extract for my baking back home and a doll for my niece. The market was colourful, stacked high with exquisite jewellery and vibrant art. I had no trouble finding huge amounts of things I wanted to take home! However, I was restrained and just got a traditional doll for my niece. What a sensible girl I was!… I was sure that sort of behaviour wouldn’t last long! Tired and sun-kissed we caught the taxi home to the ship. I don;t remember the evening. I was tired out! Another magical day…. next stop… THE AMAZON!!!

Grand Anse Craft market

Art stall in the market

GRENADA!!!

Jan25

Atlantic Crossing

Posted on January 25, 2013 by helenwilding05

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We’d traveled across the Atlantic for 6 days. Europe was behind us, Madeira had been a welcome hint of summer cutting through the January goosebumps. In front of us lay the Caribbean and every day the air got a little warmer. Barbados seemed a world away. Its a strange feeling when you are traveling to such a far flung place without flying! As the daily view was blue sky and blue water clouds somehow became more interesting. They were the only colour painted onto the vast azure canvas.

As you would expect, crossing the Atlantic takes a LONG time! My mister was travelling to Barbados from London 2 days after we left Madeira and by the time we arrived he had been, enjoyed and left! The trip was calm and leisurely for the most part. Every other day we gained an hour which meant extra lie-ins and longer days. Days were filled with frequenting the gym, drinking cocktails and performing a few shows. The water stayed calm and the ship started to live on the decks. If it was worth doing… it was worth doing outside! The monotony of the journey gave way to a more sedate vibe on board. People walked slower… why rush? There was nowhere to go! People read, sunbathed and ate. Its the only time I’ve ever truly relaxed and not felt guilty! Purely because there was no way to do anything else. Good times!

The morning before we sighted land I spent a lazy morning on the port side lower deck with my kindle and a skinny latte enjoying the hum of the engines and the whoosh of the calm sea flowing past. As I absent mindedly stared at the water, (probably unconsciously looking for whales!… I was ALWAYS looking for whales!), a movement in the corner of my eye had me confused…. I had seen a small bird flying close to the water then suddenly it was gone. As I was staring at the now empty patch of water… there was another movement in my peripherals. I turned just in time to see a small flock of 20 or 30 similar creatures dive into the sea. Flying fish! Suddenly there were hundreds of them coasting along in the warm waters rippling off the port side. Amazed, I just stared. For that one moment there was just me, the ocean and the sound of tiny plops as hundreds of winged fish hurtled in and out of the morning sun.

I wasn’t quick enough with my camera.. so thanks to bbc.co.uk for the archive pic!

What a lovely morning it was. I hope I have more like that! 🙂