Are We There Yet?

Below is what I wrote last Sunday night before getting interrupted. I thought I would finish it the next night, in our hotel in Bergen. The cancellation and rescheduling of one of our flights the next day meant getting up at 3:00 a.m. meaning that bed took precedence over blog. I had a tiny list of other things I had planned to include in this post. Even if I could find it now, they seem somewhat outdated. I will, however, share the photo I got from the Into the Ice excursion discussed in my previous post.

I am the third person from the left side; the husband is on my right. The lack of light makes detail hard to come by. But in terms of the lack of light, the walk on this excursion offered our only glimpse of the sun in our time in the polar night. We could see it on the horizon, bright orange against a royal blue sky. No more than a third of the sun's circle was visible, which is what makes it the polar night. I was afraid we would not get to see it and was glad we got that one chance.

The day we saw the sun led into the night we saw the aurora. It was the only night of the trip that could be called "clear." It was not the almost gaudy aurora that we saw in Iceland two years ago, but it was impressive nonetheless, visible on the horizon and curling around the nightscape. I did not take any photos, having done that on our first Iceland trip and feeling that all the technical aspects of aurora photography took away from my simple enjoyment. Our Australian friend did get some good shots with her point-and-shoot and has said she will email us copies. We had two desires in taking the trip, to experience the polar night (nice to visit, but I wouldn't want to live in it) and see the aurora. We scored on both.

The previous, unfinished post:
Tonight is our last aboard ship; the trip draws to its inevitable close. Did I get bored? Not at all. The sitting and reading or sitting and crosswording times, while not what one would call at all exciting, nourished my soul. It is good to do and good to be, and this trip offered both. We got to know some of the staff, even to the point of developing a few inside jokes. Two nights ago we saw the restaurant manager, Ole, come aboard with two pizzas. Besides the obvious threat to tell the chefs, we have repeatedly commented on the absence of pizza from the lunch buffet or dinner entrees. We got to know some other passengers. We met Oliver on New Year's Eve, watching the fireworks, and finally exchanged names after the Into the Ice excursion three days later. Kerrie, an Aussie, boarded at Kirkenes, the turn-around point, and fit right in for a table for four.

Waxing philosophically now, I noted, and the husband agreed, that at meals, our table for four features smiling and laughing, something sadly lacking at every other table. Most of the other passengers seem to be Norwegian or German; I can't accept that those are two so dour nationalities that they swore off humor. Besides, Oliver is German. Is it that people are not making connections with other passengers? Even the tables with obvious family units are quiet. I sometimes wonder if the laughter coming from our table is rude. The serving staff don't seem to think so, approaching with the pitchers of tea and coffee or picking up the used dishes with smiles on their faces.

Cell phones and laptops have airline mode, but so do Apple Watches and BAHA units. My replaced knee does not require airline mode, but then it does force the choice of the full-body scanner over the metal detector at TSA checkpoints. Technology eases some things while complicating others. Based on our experience on the trip here, facial recognition seems likely replace paper boarding passes or passes shown on smartphone screens.

Into the Ice? Into the Wind!

I took exactly zero photographs yesterday. I missed the window of enough light to make trying worthwhile. I am in a photograph someone else took yesterday, but have not yet managed to get a copy.

The husband and I signed up for just two of the ship's off-ship excursions. The first, a visit to a brewery was cancelled. The other was yesterday, and it was a doozy. Said excursion is described here, but I must caution you to disregard the headline photo. They offer this excursion from November 8 through March 22; the light in that photo would be from the very start or very end of that period. They also offer this excursion only if there is adequate snow and only if they have six to 20 people registered. We squeaked in with seven, one of whom was our new German friend Oliver (we finally shared names after we had finished the excursion).

I've always been a bit of a polar expedition junkie, particularly of the stories of the South Pole. Roald Amundsen and Robert Falcon Scott competing to see who could get there first. Ernest Shackleton's Endurance adventure and so on. This excursion seemed right up that alley, especially since the other "polar" excursion, a walk in Tromso, did not run on the day we were in Tromso, December 31.

We started the excursion a bit late since that was when we arrived in the port of Hammerfest. The guide was told that the ship would be in port 15 minutes longer than usual and please try to get these seven passengers back in time for that delayed departure. As a result, we missed the normal start of the excursion in the "large cosy tent with fireplace" and headed straight up the mountain. The mountain is not all that steep, but the ground cover varied considerably from knee-deep snow to dry rock to rock covered with ice. I did my best to adhere to my resolution to keep my own pace, but, yeah, I failed pretty badly. I slipped or fell several times; fortunately, the husband and/or Oliver were back there with me (did I mention that I was bringing up the end of the group?) to help me get up. One complicating factor was that I chose to put on one of the replica hats similar to those the original South Pole expedition might have worn, and the brim encouraged my glasses to fog up. Had I kept my own hat on, I would have had less of a problem.

The other complicating factor and not just for me was the wind. Even with the extra weight I've put on since the knee replacement, I could have been blown over quite easily. Early on the walk I asked the guide how fast the wind was blowing; his answer was 15 meters per second. It got stronger later on; the husband estimated it at some 60 miles per hour. I tried to keep my side to the wind to give it a smaller target, but that was not always possible. I don't know if we cut the climb short due to the time constraint, but heading down was even more treacherous than heading up had been. We stopped at one point, and gathered together so  that the guide could take a photo of us planting the Norwegian flag. That's the photo I haven't managed to get a copy of yet.

On the descent, we did stop at the "large cosy tent." The problem was that the zipper was either frozen shut or caught in the canvas. (The suggestion was made that the male expedition members could urinate on it to melt any ice; fortunately, we did not have to resort to that.) It took the guide some time to get us access to the inside, where a second guide was waiting with a hot beverage and some food similar to what might have been served on the South Pole expedition. We scarfed those down rather quickly and made for the bus. We made it back onto the ship only about five minutes late.

Especially with the wind, the excursion seemed a good, if obviously easier, demonstration of what foot travel (even with dog sleds) through a polar environment might be like. It was easy to see how vital proper equipment and experience would have been. Amundsen's time living with the Inuit gave him much better preparation than Scott had had. And there were rules to be played by; when Amundsen realized that he and his colleagues had celebrated arriving at a spot close to but not atop the magnetic south pole, they repeated their flag planting--and celebrating--at the proper location the next day.

The husband slept in this morning, meaning I breakfasted alone. I had a nice chat with one of the servers, though, a young woman probably in her 20s. From her, I learned that this ship, MS Lofoten, will be retired permanently in two years. At that point, she said, she would look for other employment; she did not want to work on one of the larger ships. I also learned that it is possible to overcome seasickness. She said that her first voyage was so calm; then she heard the captain say that it was the calmest voyage he'd ever had. The next voyage, she was very seasick. She now has no problem. I commented about the ability of the servers to carry dishes while the ship was rocking; she said that carrying was not the problem; walking without appearing drunk was. She still prefers serving thick soup to thin. Part of a server's training is to graduate from carrying two bowls of soup, one in each hand, to three, one in each hand and a third one up the arm from one of the other two. She described how, when first graduating to three bowls, she was so focused on putting the first bowl down carefully she did not notice that she was spilling some of the other two bowls. Finally, she worked over Christmas this  year, and then would not have to do so again next year. She said her family was leaving all their Christmas decor up until she got home so that she could still have a small Christmas celebration.

Here are two of the noon photos I took today. The blue light has been with us for all our time in the Polar Night; I'm not sure where the pink light came from.

I'd note that it is now dark, but then it's been pitch black for several hours. We have a two-hour stop coming up in Svolvaer. Oliver will be leaving on the horseback riding excursion and will dine early. We plan to dine a bit later with Cary, an Australian we met at lunch, and then look into a gallery of ice sculpture. Since that will not be an official ship excursion, we'll definitely watch the time and be back on board early enough to keep me calm.

Happy New Year!

I would have a photograph of last night's fireworks except that my iPhone for some reason will connect to the ship's router but not go beyond that to the Interwebs. The photos I took with my camera pale in comparison to the one I took with my phone. You'll just have to take my word for it.

The ship did New Year's Eve up right in Tromso last night. Rather than two dinner seatings for four-course meals, they did one seating for a five-course one. The crew well, the ones not cooking or serving dinner, ate and mingled with the masses. The ship then stayed in port for several hours longer than usual so that we could see the fireworks which turned out to be pretty darn incredible. The husband and I pre-gamed it watching individual fireworks set off all around the city. At one point we were joined by a German who had the same somewhat warped sense of humor that the husband and I do. A good time was had by all,

The part of the city we could see sat at the bottom of a fairly steep mountain up which runs a cable car. We could see teeny lights which ended up being the flashlights of people setting up some sort of flames (super luminarias?) that when lit spelled out 2018. As midnight approached, there were more and more fireworks sent up from the town at the foot of the mountain. At midnight, the official fireworks started at the top of the mountain. The last fireworks we saw were in Hue, Vietnam, in 2012. I actually think these were better. It definitely helped that they appeared as the crown to all the fireworks being set off below. As the fireworks went off, the 2018 on the mountainside became 2019. Those who had not already finished their champagne did so, various hugs were exchanged, and we all, or at least the husband and I, stumbled off to our cabins.

One of the plusses of a small ship and a small number of passengers is that you get familiar with the crew. I never knew who the crew member in charge of the hotel aspect of the voyage was on the ship we took in 2015. I never recognized any of the serving staff, or even the activity director. We've chatted this time with quite a few crew members. Last night, I exchanged New Year's hugs with the bartender, who would not surprise me at all if he asked what was in my wallet. And on New Year's Eve Eve, because we were passing the Trollfjord, they served mulled berry juice with or without alcohol and fish soup out on the flag deck. Both juice and soup were excellent (yes, I got mine with alcohol), and it was fun to kid around with the hotel manager and the other crew member helping with serving.

I realized that I could set one of the options on my Apple Watch to be the sunrise-sunset times of wherever I might be. Right now, it reads as "SUN DOWN ALL DAY." In that vein, here is yesterday's shot under the noonday sun.

And here is today's.

Later today, we will get to what may be our farthest north, 71 degrees, 2.28 minutes North (27 degrees, 51.17 minutes East, if you're interested in the other dimension). While there was snow on the ground in Tromso, none fell while we were there. Further north, there is more snow, both on the ground and in the air. The snow in the air was falling sideways, but not fast enough to be a blizzard (that's using the western definition rather than the eastern one of "hell of a lot of snow" one). There was an excursion to a monument sitting at the northernmost point in mainland Europe. Some 40 passengers went. We had no interest in spending almost $200 to visit an outdoor monument in the night-time dark. We did take a short walk into the town center; only a grocery store was open given that New Year's holiday. The falling snow was very powdery. Returning to the ship, we each dropped for a snow angel.

A couple of hours have passed, and no evidence of those angels remains. Mother Nature wins again!

When we leave Honningsvag, where we are currently docked, we will be in open waters until early tomorrow morning. For our two bouts of weather, I have taken sea-sickness pills, eaten ginger candy or chewed ginger gum, and slept. I am not sure which helps the most, though the ginger candy or gum is what I think quiets my stomach enough that I can fall asleep. Blaine appears not to be bothered, though he has taken the pills when I have. Does this mean I would not sail on this ship again? Heck no! I'd much prefer this small ship to one of the big ones even with the no-stabilizer aspect.

Possibly because of the small number of passengers, the activities director announced yesterday morning that small groups of passengers would be permitted to visit the bridge, something that is usually a huge no-no. I immediately ran down to the reception area to sign up. The husband was just waking up then and somehow missed the announcement. As one might expect, the lack of stabilizers makes the ship harder to sail. The captain said that he could move onto one of the larger, stabilizer-equipped ships in the fleet with no problem, but a captain of one of those ships could not easily move to this smaller ship. There are segments of our course that have been sailed since the coastal ships started in 1893. There are other segments that have changed. They still have the capability to do a depth sounding from the bridge, but never need to given that the information is now readily available. The path to becoming a captain has changed over the years. The captain said that as he came up the ranks, he served in various able-bodied seamen positions before going to school for the technical training to captain a ship. Today, the classes come before the experience.

The husband and I recently learned that the U.S. Naval Academy for several years stopped teaching the students celestial navigation but had recently re-introduced it into the curriculum. I asked that captain whether he had been trained in celestial navigation. He said that while that was part of the training, using it was never needed due to today's GPS. Famous last words? I certainly hope not!

Hunting the Light

"Hunting the Light" is Hurtigruten's catch-phrase for traveling to see the Northern Lights. Given that it has been cloudy every day so far, we may or may not see that particular light. Hunting the polar night, on the other hand, is quite doable.

Our first day out, at noon, I shot this photo from the upper deck with my camera set on automatic.

The next day, at the same time, from the same place, shooting manually with the same settings as the above gave this photo.

I wish I had thought to take a shot on automatic, but I didn't, and I think the cloud cover made this shot somewhat darker than it really was.

Today, I took this photo from the upper deck at noon, in automatic mode.

The same shot, using the same settings as the first day's automatic shot gave this.

I think I might end this experiment now, since I don't think the shots will lighten up again until we're on our way south.

We crossed the Arctic Circle just before 7:00 this morning, There is a marker in the water, but either it was not lit or we got on deck just a hair too late to see it. The activity leader forgot, in the weather excitement of last evening, to announce the contest of guessing the time the ship would cross the Circle. The winner, chosen at random since there were no entries to compare, received the Hurtigruten flag that had been flying above the ship when she crossed the Circle; the captain had added his signature to the flag. The flag was awarded in mid-morning, by which time it was light enough to see, right before King Neptune made his entrance.

The "ceremony" was the baptism of all of Neptune's new citizens, those who had crossed the Circle for the first time. Knowing that ice water and cubes poured down one's back is endurable, especially given the shot of cloudberry liqueur one gets after, I took the empty seat no one else wanted on the first time through. The activity director took my camera and captured the occasion.

I tried getting a shot of the husband's baptism by ice, but found myself behind several other people obviously not shooting the husband.

The fun is when some of the cubes go down between your inner and outer layers of clothing. I had a hoodie on under my coat with a shirt under that. Even close to a half hour later, I was still having ice cubes drop out from the hoodie.

Just after lunch we docked in Bodo (there is supposed to be a line through the second o). We walked into town where just about everything was closed due to its being Sunday. The husband had hoped to find a coffeeshop that sold bagels so as to be holding one while standing next to a Bodo city sign. Alas, while we found one or two open coffeeshops, bagels were nonexistent. Bodo was still a nice-looking small city (or would a population of 50,000 make it a large town?).

I always find the murals put on the sides of buildings interesting. I have no real idea what sort of creature this is supposed to be, but it reminded me of Gollum from The Lord of the Rings.

The husband found the angles of this building to be quite interesting, saying they added more visible interest than might have been done in the States.

The sign below caught my eye. It was outside a "golf center" that sold golf equipment and possibly contained a video sort of driving range, but there was definitely no golf course nor any golf carts in there.

And on the interesting playground equipment front, we found this.

I might have bcen tempted to try it, but the pavement's being wet and occasionally icy coupled with a serious desire not to need to seek medical treatment made it easier for me to give it a pass.

Finally, here is our home away from home for another eight days. I must admit that I'm getting spoiled. No cooking, no bed-making, and laundry only if I really want or need to do it.

First Full Day Afloat

It turns out that our cabin, small though it may be,

does have a porthole. The view out said porthole is not too scenic, but the water can be mesmerizing.

It does not let in enough light to make it useful for awakening, though a big portion of that is that the sun does not rise here until close to 10:00 a.m.

Neither of us slept particularly well, it being the fist night in a strange bed and one that rocked a bit at that. We were up, dressed, and going into breakfast just about the time the ship entered the first “open stretch of sea.” There was a quite noticeable change in terms of balance. I was quite happy to have one of the servers pour my coffee rather than carrying it myself from a pot across the room. While my balance walking was definitely impaired, my stomach handled breakfast and after just fine. Perhaps the anti-seasickness wrist bands and doing the trick, though I’m certainly not going to take them off as a test.  

There are a couple of ways to tell how rough the sea might get. For one, the furniture is chained to the floor.

The dining room tables have frames that can be removed, flipped over, and put back on with a lip to keep things from sliding off. It is interesting to watch crew members walk as if everything is stock still. Even carrying bowls of cereal or cups of coffee, they walk as if the floor is totally stable. 

At noon, I took several photos from the upper deck using the automatic setting of my camera (a Canon EOS 60D). Here's one of them.

I looked up the settings that the automatic function used. Tomorrow, I will go to the same deck at the same time and take a photo using the same settings. I plan to do that every day with the exception of the day will be on the "Into the Ice" excursion at noon. I'm hoping to get a nice sequence of shots getting darker and darker then lighter and lighter. We'll see how that turns out.

When it's light enough to see, the scenery is pretty incredible.

The towns themselves are quite photogenic as well. The ship docked in Alesund for three hours. We did the walk-around-town excursion here in 2015, so we just went on our own little walk. 

  

In Southeast Asia, we got accustomed to seeing beggars. It's a bit more out-of-place here.

One way to know you're not in the States any longer is playground equipment that kids big and little would love but that could possibly be deemed "unsafe." My kids would have loved this one as children and would even go crazy with it as adults.

Some shots I just have to take for inspiration. Both of these could make pretty nice quilts.

The ship's program director has told us that New Year's Eve can get quite raucous and that Tromso, where we will be that night, has quite the fireworks display. In the meantime, though it's still Christmas and will be until January 6.

Set an Alarm? We Don't Need No Stinkin' Alarm!

When we visited Iceland last year, we thought we'd set the room alarm to a time that would let us eat the hotel's free breakfast and the get ready for our excursion to a lava cave at noon. We screwed up on how to set the alarm and slept until 10:00, at which time the hotel breakfast was over. We got dressed (no showers if I remember correctly), found a coffeehouse that wasn't too far away, and actually were waiting for the excursion bus without being out of breath.

We had no set plans for today save for visiting a museum or two. Still, we both wanted to shower not to mention get a free breakfast, so we set Blaine's phone alarm to the chosen time. Should I also set my phone, I wondered. We decided that one alarm was enough given that we knew we were setting it correctly. Old Man Time got the best of us. We slept through the alarm we know went off. We did make it down in time for breakfast, though showers waited until after. We ended up only making it to one museum, the Norwegian Maritime Museum, but it was a good one.

Photos, at least with my camera, were few given the on-again-off-again rain. I finally just packed my large camera into my rucksack and let Blaine use his pocket-sized one. As it turned out, cameras were not permitted in the museum, so we have nothing to show from there unless I now take a photo of the book we bought on the rune alphabet.

We've been to our share of maritime museums including the ones in Newport News, Virginia, and Reykjavik, Iceland. The one here was small compared to those two, but still very interesting. The section on the Vikings was especially interesting given that last night I finished reading The Book Of Viking Myths that younger son  gave me for Christmas. The fact that we'd visited the Viking ship Museum in Oslo twice also helped fill in any gaps there were here.

We spent a fair amount of time there and, upon leaving, decided one museum was enough so we'd stop for coffee and a snack and then get back to the hotel in plenty of time for the 5:15 bus to the ship. It was too dark and rainy to adequately photograph the triangle of coffee shops at one intersection. We skipped the first as it looked fairly crowded and two people were entering ahead of when we would. We skipped the second because it was Starbucks, and went to the third, the Camel Coffeeshop. Besides Starbucks, other establishments we chose not to enter were Burger King, McDonalds, Seven Eleven, and Subway.

It was impossible to get a photo showing both together, but it caught us by pleasant surprise to see two bookstores within spitting distance of each other. There used to be a couple that close together on Charlottesville's Downtown Mall, but I don't think there are today.

While killing time in the hotel lobby, I took this photo already up on Facebook.

It was just a hair before 4:30 in the afternoon, giving us a taste of the days to come. It was even darker when the bus picked us up at 5:15.

So we're now aboard, having attended the mandatory safety presentation and eaten dinner. For dinner, I invited a couple to join us at our table for four. He works in South Africa; she works in Khartoum. Because it had been raining, I was not wearing Della, my confidential hearing assistant, what I heard was that he worked in cartoons. Fortunately, the husband asked an appropriate follow-up question before I asked an inappropriate one. As might be expected, they had questions about the current happenings in the States. We told them we hoped that the air traffic controllers or TSA personnel did not all call in sick by then due to mandatory work and nonexistent pay.

We are now sitting in a presentation on the various excursions possible. We know a bit about these having already registered for the one we want, Into the Ice, on polar exploration. We had also registered for a trip to a brewery but for some unknown reason that one was cancelled. My principal goal here is to ask if I really can fish off the deck of the ship. The reservation agent with whom I booked told me that because of the small size of the ship, it was possible to fish from the deck. I do intend to ask if that about deck fishing if it does not come up as part of this presentation.

They just announced that the weather for the next few days is forecast to be good. Up north, the forecasts are more uncertain. In rough weather, we are supposed to always hold onto one thing and, above all, not go out on deck. They do have "stormy weather bags" available at various points around the ship. Interestingly (or not), they're identical to the airsickness bags one finds on commercial planes.

... Two if by Sea ...

I must admit that I married well, to someone nearly as offbeat as I am and who indulges my desire to travel and see the moon shine on the other side of the world. Only this trip, we're thinking more about the sun than the moon.

In February 2015, we flew to Oslo, Norway, took a scenic train ride to Bergen, boarded one of the ships in the coastal ferry/mailboat fleet, and sailed over the Arctic Circle to Tromso, where we got off and flew back to Oslo. spending only four nights on board the ship. There were some people who were taking the full 12 days and 11 nights to sail from Bergen to Kirkenes and back to Bergen. The husband and I wondered how they could do it; wouldn't they get bored? Here we are, approaching four  years later, and we're quite looking forward to the full sail. When I saw that there were discounts to mark the 125th anniversary of the coastal fleet, well, it seemed like time for another adventure.

Did I mention "offbeat" above? After doing some research, we decided that we wanted to take one particular ship. In 2015, we sailed on the MS Midnatsol (I'm pretty sure that means Midnight Sun). If you read to the bottom of the linked web page, you'll see that she can carry up to 900 passengers, though she was far from full when we sailed. We decided that for just for the heck of it we would this time sail on the MS Lofoten, the oldest and smallest ship in the fleet. She can take up to 400 passengers. As a better measure of the size, the woman with whom I spoke to make reservations told me that MS Lofoten was so small you could fish from the deck. (Guess who now wants to fish from the deck.)

One other distinguishing mark about the MS Lofoten is that you will not see it listed on any of the websites through which you can book lower-priced, unsold cabins on relatively short notice. All the other ships in the fleet will be listed, so why not the MS Lofoten? It has no stabilizers. We will be sailing in the North Atlantic in December and January on a ship with no stabilizers. I will admit I have no idea just how much rougher that will make things. I am planning ahead and have purchased and packed enough seasickness preventative for the whole trip plus the wrist bands plus ginger gum and candy. I'm so well prepared that I may have no problems at all and will have wasted some cash. But what do other people's mothers say? Better to have it and not need it ...

Besides taking a particular ship, we decided to make the trip as low-cost as possible, meaning that we are sailing in one of the cheapest cabins on the ship. We did get a cabin at the center of the ship which will be a bit more stable. It's not a large cabin. No porthole, but then as the husband and I discussed, we did not spend much time in our cabin last time. Bunk beds, but then our cabin last time had two separate twin beds, one of which became a couch during the day. Just a sink, no bathroom, but then the toilets are just right across the hall from our cabin. The showers are a bit further along. This was the thing that the reservation agent had trouble with. She kept trying to book us into a more expensive cabin, with en-suite facilities. She had trouble with the idea that this was an adventure and we really did want the cheapest cabin.

This will be our fifth trip north in winter, and on which we hope to see the aurora or Northern Lights. We've been to Iceland three times and Norway once before. I fully expect that we will see them on this trip, at least once and likely more often. What I am even more excited about, though, is that for about six days we will be north of the Arctic Circle, and in the polar night. Some people go north to see the Midnight Sun; I've never had the desire to do so. The polar night on the other hand, I really want to see.

As for our thought four years ago that the people going the whole way got bored, perhaps they did. Perhaps we will, though right now we're actually quite looking forward to some down time. Walking the deck for exercise, reading while watching the coast go by, continuing the cribbage contest we began on our honeymoon and continue whenever we're on vacation. At our stop in Trondheim, we hope to have coffee with some of the husband's Norwegian cousins. And, travel gods willing, come back refreshed and ready to start the new year.

Up in the Air up the River

sunrise on the Amazon

I worked for somewhere around five hours on a post about our time in the Amazonian rainforest. I had fifteen or so photos in there, words and more words all to describe the highlights of our several days there. All I had left to add was the high point of our time there, the canopy walkway. The post would not preview. Despite my having used the Save button several times, exiting and re-loading the post to try to get it to preview erased all my work. I just don't have it in me to re-do all that, but here are some photos and a few words about the canopy walkway adventure I was going to write about after the preview. This was the absolute highlight of our time in the rainforest.

The first thing you should know about that adventure is that I have some fear of heights. I have frozen several times when on a bridge or a ledge even if it's not terribly far off the ground. I was thus somewhat worried about whether I would be able to handle the walkway. I'll get it out of the way now and say that I was able to. The first few sections had me pretty shaky, but I kept telling myself that there was no going back. I also had trouble at first looking down while on the walkway itself; I could only look down from one of the platforms between sections. By the end, though, I felt quite comfortable and was sort of wishing we could go back and do it all a second time.

The walkway is constructed of ladders on which the wooden walkway segments sit. 

I asked Paul how many ladders were used, and he said that might be worth learning in case someone else ever asked that question. Before we started, he demonstrated how stumbling or falling against the side of the walkway would not take it all down. Still, some segments looked a bit more intimidating that others.

I think the husband took the photo below because I don't recall being comfortable enough to stop and use the camera while on the walkway itself. As I recall, I only shot from the platforms.

It did occur to me that I should prove that I was up there; hence, this shot.

And just what does it look like from above? Pretty darn neat!

 

You'll have to take my word for it, but there are monkeys in the above photo.

 

And here's the intrepid canopy walkway crew. Our fourth was feeling under the weather after taking her anti-malarial pill that morning. It wasn't the same without her.

Apologies for not sharing a bit about the gateway to our Amazon, Iquitos; our visit to Indiana; how proficient I am with a blowgun despite never having had a lesson; birds, fish, mammals, reptiles, and amphibians; termite nests; and the coolest tree ever. Wait, I'll use that as an endpoint.

Home, Home on the Water

I love being in or on the water, so Lake Titicaca was a nice place to visit. It is the world's highest navigable lake. The lake sits at 12,630 feet in what is known as the Altiplano, the highland region. The only such region in the world that is higher is in Tibet, at some 13,000 feet. Legend holds that the sun god had two children who emerged from the waters of the lake to found Cusco and begin the Inca dynasty. Inca remains have been found at the lake, so perhaps the legend is correct. If you turn the map of the lake upside down, it is supposed to resemble a puma. I'm still waiting to be convinced.

The lake is both fresh and salty. The water tastes fresh, but testing reveals a small percentage of salt. Climate change endangers the lake. Peru has lost 30 percent of its snow cap in the last 50 years, making Lima the second dryest city in the world. If nothing changes, Lake Titicaca will cease to exist in 5,000 years. A river from the lake into neighboring Bolivia dried up six months ago. Although 28 species of fish once lived in the lake, only six remain. The lake's size helps regulate the temperature of the region. The temperature does drop below freezing overnight, but it has only snowed twice in Puno. Hail is common, but not snow.

The lake sits 52 percent in Peru and 48 percent in Bolivia. Its depth is not definitively known. Jacques Cousteau visited the Bolivian side of the lake and used sonar to register a depth of 902 feet. Given the size of the lake, though, it is quite possible there are spots that are deeper. Swimming is permitted in the lake if you can stand the average water temperature of 48 degrees F. And while swimming is permitted, pleasure boating is not. Kayaking is permitted in defined spots. Other than that, tourism boats and boats used by locals are the only craft allowed on the lake.

Our first stop was the Islas de los Uros, floating islands named after the natives who live there. These people have DNA related to the Mongols suggesting their ancestors might have crossed the Bering Strait and moved south. On a more recent note, they are descendants of slaves who worked in the mines. Slavery did not exist until the arrival of the Spanish and the Catholic church. African slaves brought to work there only lasted about three days before dying. Local slaves lasted about ten days. Some of these slaves built reed boats and escaped onto the lake, later building reed islands on which to live.

The reeds used to construct an island are cut in blocks from the bottom of the lake and average anywhere from three to 10 feet in thickness. Sticks are put in each corner and then roped into a platform into which more reeds can be woven. The weight put on each platform helps to stabilize it. 

It takes 15 months to one year to make one island, and islands last an average of 35 years. The inhabitants must take care of the platform. Dry reeds must be added to the top of the platform regularly. Some of the islands are anchored to the lake bottom. Should an island start to sink, there is no way to save it. Thus, when it starts to look as if an island might be dying, the men on that island start constructing a new one.

Life on a floating island is not without some comforts. The solar panels shown below were provided

by the government and some NGOs and provide electricity to the homes.

Power is not used for cooking. That is done over an open fire outside. You would be correct to think that an open fire on an island made of dried plant matter doesn't sound very safe. It's not, which is why there are always two people cooking.

As you might imagine, life on a floating island is not easy. While there are elementary schools on some islands, high school students must commute to the mainland or live in Puno and go home on weekends. Only 18 percent of high school students return to the islands to live; in four or five generations, the islands may be gone. Most women give birth on the island; there is a 5 percent maternal mortality rate in childbirth. The mortality rate for infants in 19 percent. Children often die falling off an island. Despite living on the water, most islanders do not know how to swim.

Every island has a social leader called a president. Presidents are elected annually, and organize the families to maintain the island. Islands vary in terms of the number of inhabitants. The island we visited was on the small side--15 people in three families.

When tourism boats first came to the islands in the 1960s and 70s, the islanders were not at all pleased. That has changed now that 60 percent of the local economy comes from tourism. The other 40 percent is from hunting, fishing, and trading. The principal craft is embroidery.

 

Tourists can also take a boat ride, though only three people in our group of 19 did so. The one that was not the husband or me came because we touted it as an adventure.

We rode on the boat's upper deck, giving a nice view of the small islands, many of which had a tourist boat visiting. I did not ask whether the arch served any purpose; I wish now that I had.

Propelled by men with paddles, the boat went at a nice, relaxed pace.

We also visited one of the elementary schools for the floating islands. The school platform was actually floating on pontoons rather than reed blocks. The kindergarten classroom we visited was not all that different from classrooms I've seen in the States. The subjects highlighted could be found in kindergarten classrooms almost anywhere. A book center.

An "I think and make" center.

There were others for music, science and the environment, days of the week, and behavior

After visiting the school, we went to Taquile, home of some of the best knitters in the world. Our guide Manuel said that they could knit 192 stitches per centimeter, something I really don't believe. That aside, the knitters on Taquile are all men.

 

The women are all weavers.

Both the knitting and weaving are quite intricate. Here is some of the detail of the knitted hat I purchased at the market.

As can be seen in the photo above, the men use very fine, double-pointed needles for their knitting. They don't just sit or stand to knit; they keep knitting even as they walk.

Hats serve a social purpose on Taquile. The colors and patterns of a hat denote one's marital status,  position within the community, job, and origin. A hat is also central to the marriage customs of the island. A young man cannot consider marriage until he has finished a special hat to give to the father of the intended bride. The father will fill the hat with water. If the hat holds water without dripping for 10 seconds, then the young man can pursue marriage with the daughter. A couple wishing to marry must live together for two years, during which time the young woman must knit two belts for the young man. The couple usually resides with the young man's family. At the end of the two years, if they wish, they can marry in the month of May, when a Catholic priest visits the island. (If the young woman becomes pregnant during the two years, then the couple must marry.)

Taquile's president is elected annually. Someone who is nominated is not permitted to decline the nomination. The election is held in November. There are 24 men serving on a council. To serve, a man must have two children; parents are viewed as slightly more invested in the  state of the island. Re-election is not allowed on the grounds that it might invite corruption.

So much for our very busy day on the lake. That night, we had a farewell dinner. The next day, we would fly back to Lima. Thirteen people would head home, while six of us would extend our tour with a trip to the Amazonian rainforest.