Holiday Letter 2009

Sàwàdee Kà,
That’s hello in Thai. I hope you are doing well and surviving the realities of the current economy. It’s making me think about going back to work. My “gap year” is going on five years now, kind of like college students extending their four year degrees into five or more. Let’s just say my extension is the interest I’ve earned over 30 years of working full-time. My concern of getting a job now is age discrimination, but then everyone my age is probably thinking about that even if currently employed.

I have continued my nomadic way of life spending half of the year outside the US. One of the highlights this year, probably the climax of my travels, was a cruise to Antarctica. I started seriously thinking about this destination two and a half years before boarding the boat that took me to the Antarctic. I learned from the first attempt to plan this at least a year in advance. The second attempt was aborted when the boat I was to be on three weeks later sank. The third time was a charm. The trip was longer (almost a month) with more destinations, more landings and maximum time on land, a promise made and kept by the tour company. We cruised out of Ushuaia for the Falkland Islands, South Georgia, on to the Antarctic Peninsula, and back up the infamous Drake Channel.

The red-hulled Polar Star carried 94 passengers, 14 “scientific” crew and about 30 boat staff. We departed in the twilight of a beautiful cloud-lined evening, giving an inkling of the wonders we would see. We were graced by Hourglass Dolphins and Orca Whales on our crossing to the Falkland Islands. We were enchanted by the playful Rockhopper, Megellanic and Gentoo Penguins; the Blue-Eyed Shags and my favorite, the Black-Browed Albatrosses once we arrived. Rockhoppers have the funny eyebrows, Gentoos are more generic black and white, and Megellanics live in fields like prairie dogs. I disliked the menacing Caracara and Skua birds that scouted out the chance to scarf an Albatross chick or attacked peoples’ heads. Most memorable were the mother Black-Browed Albatrosses, those that have the eight foot wing spans, tenderly caressing their young chicks, and the molting brown furry “teenage” male penguins that would hang out together on the outskirts of the colony.

At South Georgia Island, we held our walking sticks perpendicular to the ground at arm’s length to fend off the stalking fur seals. Upon seeing our sticks the fur seals would stop as if we had an electric fence all around us. Amidst the fur seals, their pups and elephant seals, we encountered our first King and Chinstrap Penguin colonies. The King Penguins are smaller than the Emperor Penguins and look like they have a cape draped around their shoulders. The Chinstraps have a distinct line highlighting, you guessed it, their chins. The different species of penguins segregated themselves into different neighborhoods just as people tend to do. We re-enacted the final miles of Shackleton’s epic journey to rescue his men from a perilous death in 1915 by making our way up and across Breakwind Ridge on a pleasant sunny afternoon, imagining hearing the 7:00 a.m. bells at the whaling station—the moment Shackleton realized he and his men would be saved.

En route to the Antarctic Peninsula, the Black Browed, Light-Mantled Sooty, and Northern Royal Albatrosses, Southern Fulmars, Giant Petrels and an entire crowd of Pintados swirled around our ship in 45-knot winds. The birds were ant size compared to the icebergs we were now encountering, many the stature of small buildings. Some were square on top, others more rounded, having rolled several times during the melting process. Signs of global warming were noted by our staff—major colonies of penguins had relocated further south than where they’d been seen on previous trips, and there was no opportunity to use the multi-layered ice-breaking hulled ship to break Arctic ice.

I never tired of watching the penguins—entire groups splashing into the water at once hoping to escape the jaws of a waiting leopard seal, lone penguins flitting into one of our Zodiacs, baby chicks chasing after their mothers for food, pink breasted Adelies, their fronts covered in krill from their last meal as if Pepto-Bismol had been smeared all over their white chests, and listening to tooting Chinstraps as they stretched their necks high in the air in penguin song.

Good things do come to an end. But this was just the mid-point of my trip. I was going to tour Patagonia. Another woman from the cruise and I met up to trek the “W” in Parque Nactional Torres Del Paine in Chile—six days of trekking and camping around this exquisite two-toned mountain. Lucky for me, Sarah, a consummate backpacker, bought camping equipment for two, and spoke fluent Spanish. We had sun and rain, crossed rivers and creeks, and basked in the beauty of this 8,000-foot high rock. Not wanting to leave it, we arranged for a four-day horse ride south of the park. After this, I meandered my way up to Bariloche, the Lake District of Argentina, for more casual hiking and ambiance, and to connect with the friend of a friend. I was immediately invited over for an asado, an Argentine barbeque.

Patagonia is all you have heard about and more, but I left it to see South America’s largest waterfalls, Iguazá. Having seen Niagara Falls and Victoria Falls in southern Africa, I wanted to see how this compared. There are miles of walkways to see the flowing watery vistas. The drop-offs were spectacular and could even be enjoyed from boats that would motor their way under the falls. There were also smaller waterfalls where you could go swimming. Beware of the monkeys though if you have any food.

After a two-day turnaround in the Twin Cities, I headed to Bonaire to visit my cruising friends Tom and Rose, then sailed to the BVIs with Northern Breezes, the sailing school I teach for in the summer. I spent two weeks sailing, and two months scuba diving—two weeks of fun diving, 4 weeks as an intern for a dive shop at the youthful age of 55, then two weeks of coursework to become a scuba instructor. Now I can teach sailing, diving and English as a foreign language. The big question is: where do I want to do this?

I spent a quiet summer and fall around home, fostering cats, kayaking, and enjoying
sailing by teaching or racing. A trip to Grand Marias earned me the prospect of skippering the Hjórdis, a two masted schooner at the North House Folk School next year. I’m listed in their catalog to teach sailing next summer. A writing class this fall focused my attention on adding to my travel memoir. It’s actually taking shape, and what’s more, I’m totally enjoying the process.
In November, my niece Laura and I traveled to Chiang Mai Thailand for Habitat for Humanity to build a modest home for a deserving family. Laura’s husband, Brian, joined us as we further explored Chiang Mai, Bangkok and Phuket. What a great opportunity to spend time getting to know them as a married couple and be able to show them my way of living. We rode elephants, bamboo rafted down rapids, took a Thai cooking class, saw the wats and Grand Palace, set off traditional luminaries, petted lions and tigers ate street food, and canoed the hongs in southern Thailand. I then spent two weeks scuba diving in Myanmar, and the Similian and Surin Islands.

I felt like I’d returned home each time I jumped in the water—seeing the Cuttlefish, octopus, leopard sharks and eels, nudibranches, seahorses, and colorful fish and corals. Oh how I love diving in the Pacific, but this year I came back to Minnesota for knee surgery. I finally decided a severed ACL was interfering with my activities so I decided to have it replaced. I’m spending the holidays recouperating so hope you have a fun and more active holiday season than I will.

Souksaan wan Christmas Aawatdii Pimaï!
Vicki