One Sunday, Napier Civil Defence decided that they would test all the sirens at midday. Notices had been printed beforehand and were published in the papers, and posters were displayed in many of the shop windows. Sure enough at noon all the sirens sounded and for 10 minutes it seemed as if we were back in the thick of World War II.
The idea was that if an emergency situation was to arise, the sirens would sound and the public should tune into ZB Radio News Talk for details of the emergency.
Come Wednesday, news broke about 7.30am of a tsunami headed for New Zealand following the Samoa earthquake. As it was expected to hit New Zealand’s North East coastline about 10am, radio stations rushed to get news of this to their audiences.
Whereupon the people of Napier had some very different reactions:
- Civil Defence didn’t think it was an emergency and so didn’t bother with their sirens.
- Others listened to incoming reports from Samoa and thought it sounded pretty serious.
- My daughter Roisin and other hospital staff were put on full alert.
- Many shops, offices and cafes in Napier closed their doors and sent staff home.
- The harbour authorities ordered all ships to vacate Napier Port.
- Newspapers snapped pictures of a freighter followed by the Pilot Boat and a few tugs setting off into the Bay.
- The Police cordoned off Marine Parade.
- Every teenager rushed off to find and wax their surfboards.
- Cars queued up Bluff Drive to get a good view of the incoming wave.
As it turned out the only wave was one amongst the gathered crowd of spectators. Civil Defence said later that it was happy about the way that the news had spread (no thanks to their input) but somewhat disappointed that so many had chosen to pack the beach.
Having flown over Samoa on our way back to Auckland from Vancouver, Gill and I weren’t at all bothered. Our reckoning was that Napier lies in the southern shadow of the peninsula of Mahia and is thus sheltered from the wind, waves or weather from the North. I went off to work (two blocks away from Marine Parade) and Gill went off to her weekly water aerobics class. A week later an earthquake hit Vanuatu and the same scenario was repeated.
So life has got back to normal following our spectacular trip to Canada. Gill had set off to sail in the 2009 Laser World Masters and I had tagged along as “support” and as her taster for unfamiliar beverages (like beer).
It was the first time we had ever crossed the date line so unlike any previous drinking spells we arrived back on the planet before we had left. Bit like having a hangover before getting started - hair of the dog etc.
We arrived at our destination hotel 36 hours after leaving Napier with an 8 hour wait in Vancouver for connecting flights via Toronto to Halifax. The first day was spent getting our bearings which meant we staggered around Halifax’s waterfront and then found our way to the highest point on the hill which was a well preserved fort manned by men wearing skirts (all very Nova Scotia).
On the second day it was off to the yacht club to register and to find out which boat Gill had been allocated. The yacht club was about 30 minutes away so the organisers had daily buses laid on from the event hotel. The buses were ex-Army buses much like green school buses. Inside, there were stickers that took us back a few years – “no spitting”, “no smoking”, “no drugs”, and the classic “no bullying”. Just as well as the Australians reacted to our SA Kiwi T-shirts much like their dingoes do to babies.
Gill found her boat and we rigged it to see what needed to be altered to fit the tiller, sails and fittings that we had had to bring with us. Dire warnings had been issued at the registration desk about damages, required liability insurance ($2m.) and a hurricane expected the next evening. Being cash strapped SA Kiwis, Gill had wisely kept quiet about previous accident records and hoped that any association with boat names such as “Glug”, “Turtle” and “Gurgle” would not re-surface.
It was then that the skipper of “Glug” arrived having driven up from Boston and having taken the overnight ferry shortcut from St John to Digby. He looked pretty hung over but it was early days yet. Although it doesn’t look very far on a map, Halifax is a day’s drive by road from Boston, and Nova Scotia alone is about the size of New Zealand’s North Island.
My brother Graham, once a low life banker but now a well respected member of the paparazzi, had elected to bring Blossom along - Barbara’s beloved yellow cab. We hope Barbara doesn’t read this but boy can that horse fly. It’s not the most discreet of vehicles and there were rueful admissions about the cops’ love of the sound of an approaching cash register. Harnessing the Mustang we burbled along to the sound of its V8 over the next few days to get around to Peggy’s Cove (site of the Swiss Air crash), the fishing port of Lunenburg, and Harrap’s Cove.
The latter was the pick-up point for a historic lobster fishing boat that the skipper had kindly made available as a spectator yacht. This 23 foot long and 10 foot wide cat boat with its 3 tons of displacement was certainly stable but with a wheel tiller facing aft and a windsurfer type rig it was not the easiest of yachts to sail upwind. The principle behind the cat boat is that it should stay headed to wind on leaving the wheel to check the lobster pots. The cat boat and its roomy cabin were beautifully finished and Graham and I had a spectacular time aboard with a genial host with even more character than his yacht. Later we were to come across a model of the cat boat in Halifax’s maritime museum so this experience was another to confirm that Grandpa is living history.
The museum also houses sections for the Titanic and for the 1st world-war disaster of the Halifax Explosion where a munitions ship collision caused an explosion that destroyed much of the city. Somewhat unbelievably, the local cemetery is also a tourist Mecca as there lie buried many of the casualties from the Titanic.
Other than icebergs what perils faced our intrepid sailor? Hurricane Bill had struck Halifax the weekend before we got there. The newspapers carried reports of a couple of tourists that had been washed off the rocks by the waves whipped up by that hurricane. Hurricane Danny had been downgraded to the status of a Tropical Storm (20 mph winds less than hurricane strength) but it was to cause significantly more damage than Bill.
In preparation of the approaching storm, all the lasers at the yacht club were turned upside down and pegged to the ground. As Hurricane Bill had turned out to be a non-event, the event marquee was not taken down. Mother Nature however seems to have the persuasive powers of all women. It was no surprise to learn the next morning that a flying tent had taken out the power-lines to 16000 homes. This led to many grumbles among the sailors that evening about the lack of hot showers.
An unsettled weather pattern followed the hurricane, and left the local race officers at a loss as to where and when the winds would blow. Races were generally very late starting and the radial grandmaster fleet only completed 9 of the 12 that were scheduled. As luck would have it Gill’s best races were among those abandoned before finishing and so the social side of the regatta had its work cut out to compensate for the disappointing racing. The pale amber ale was reminiscent of Lion Ale and proved to be a favourite. Graham who had come up for the weekend had by now filled 20GB of memory cards and after listening to his liver left us on the Wednesday.
After a week’s sailing in salty waters, the Sunday saw us scouring Halifax for a laundromat. We learned that if you stay in the sailing hotel venue you don’t expect a short queue for the hotel’s tubs. With reasonably dry clothing that would not be too embarrassingly whiffy we were ready to set off on the Monday for the return trip. First we flew from Halifax to Calgary – over miles and miles of flat wheat lands. Calgary used to be a cattle farming centre but is now a boom town and at the centre of the controversial oil sands mining. Calgary looked like it had an urban sprawl problem and reminded us of Johannesburg. It was also the point where a coach would collect us for our trip into the Rockies about 100km away.
At the foothills of the Rockies we stopped to board a helicopter. The one thing we have learned from tramping/hiking in New Zealand is that life is a lot easier if you have the right equipment. The ride was all too short but the views were spectacular. Then it was back on the coach and onto a cattle ranch which was also trying its hand at re-introducing bison. Back on the bus and up into the mountains we trundled along the Bow river valley that flows down to Calgary. The night stop over was at Lake Louise (a world heritage site and one of the prettiest spots we have ever come across on this planet).
The next morning the coach picked us up and took us up to the Ice Fields. We boarded another helicopter and flew over the Rockies to have a look at the glaciers. Then it was back on the bus, another ranch for a barbeque lunch and a bite of the Juniper berry (a light crush releases the flavour), and then onto the alpine town of Banff. Here we stayed a little out of town at the Rimrock Hotel opposite the open air mineral pool. The next morning we were picked up and taken down to Banff station where we boarded the Rocky Mountaineer for our two day train trip to Vancouver.
The idea was that if an emergency situation was to arise, the sirens would sound and the public should tune into ZB Radio News Talk for details of the emergency.
Come Wednesday, news broke about 7.30am of a tsunami headed for New Zealand following the Samoa earthquake. As it was expected to hit New Zealand’s North East coastline about 10am, radio stations rushed to get news of this to their audiences.
Whereupon the people of Napier had some very different reactions:
- Civil Defence didn’t think it was an emergency and so didn’t bother with their sirens.
- Others listened to incoming reports from Samoa and thought it sounded pretty serious.
- My daughter Roisin and other hospital staff were put on full alert.
- Many shops, offices and cafes in Napier closed their doors and sent staff home.
- The harbour authorities ordered all ships to vacate Napier Port.
- Newspapers snapped pictures of a freighter followed by the Pilot Boat and a few tugs setting off into the Bay.
- The Police cordoned off Marine Parade.
- Every teenager rushed off to find and wax their surfboards.
- Cars queued up Bluff Drive to get a good view of the incoming wave.
As it turned out the only wave was one amongst the gathered crowd of spectators. Civil Defence said later that it was happy about the way that the news had spread (no thanks to their input) but somewhat disappointed that so many had chosen to pack the beach.
Having flown over Samoa on our way back to Auckland from Vancouver, Gill and I weren’t at all bothered. Our reckoning was that Napier lies in the southern shadow of the peninsula of Mahia and is thus sheltered from the wind, waves or weather from the North. I went off to work (two blocks away from Marine Parade) and Gill went off to her weekly water aerobics class. A week later an earthquake hit Vanuatu and the same scenario was repeated.
So life has got back to normal following our spectacular trip to Canada. Gill had set off to sail in the 2009 Laser World Masters and I had tagged along as “support” and as her taster for unfamiliar beverages (like beer).
It was the first time we had ever crossed the date line so unlike any previous drinking spells we arrived back on the planet before we had left. Bit like having a hangover before getting started - hair of the dog etc.
We arrived at our destination hotel 36 hours after leaving Napier with an 8 hour wait in Vancouver for connecting flights via Toronto to Halifax. The first day was spent getting our bearings which meant we staggered around Halifax’s waterfront and then found our way to the highest point on the hill which was a well preserved fort manned by men wearing skirts (all very Nova Scotia).
On the second day it was off to the yacht club to register and to find out which boat Gill had been allocated. The yacht club was about 30 minutes away so the organisers had daily buses laid on from the event hotel. The buses were ex-Army buses much like green school buses. Inside, there were stickers that took us back a few years – “no spitting”, “no smoking”, “no drugs”, and the classic “no bullying”. Just as well as the Australians reacted to our SA Kiwi T-shirts much like their dingoes do to babies.Gill found her boat and we rigged it to see what needed to be altered to fit the tiller, sails and fittings that we had had to bring with us. Dire warnings had been issued at the registration desk about damages, required liability insurance ($2m.) and a hurricane expected the next evening. Being cash strapped SA Kiwis, Gill had wisely kept quiet about previous accident records and hoped that any association with boat names such as “Glug”, “Turtle” and “Gurgle” would not re-surface.
It was then that the skipper of “Glug” arrived having driven up from Boston and having taken the overnight ferry shortcut from St John to Digby. He looked pretty hung over but it was early days yet. Although it doesn’t look very far on a map, Halifax is a day’s drive by road from Boston, and Nova Scotia alone is about the size of New Zealand’s North Island.
My brother Graham, once a low life banker but now a well respected member of the paparazzi, had elected to bring Blossom along - Barbara’s beloved yellow cab. We hope Barbara doesn’t read this but boy can that horse fly. It’s not the most discreet of vehicles and there were rueful admissions about the cops’ love of the sound of an approaching cash register. Harnessing the Mustang we burbled along to the sound of its V8 over the next few days to get around to Peggy’s Cove (site of the Swiss Air crash), the fishing port of Lunenburg, and Harrap’s Cove.
The latter was the pick-up point for a historic lobster fishing boat that the skipper had kindly made available as a spectator yacht. This 23 foot long and 10 foot wide cat boat with its 3 tons of displacement was certainly stable but with a wheel tiller facing aft and a windsurfer type rig it was not the easiest of yachts to sail upwind. The principle behind the cat boat is that it should stay headed to wind on leaving the wheel to check the lobster pots. The cat boat and its roomy cabin were beautifully finished and Graham and I had a spectacular time aboard with a genial host with even more character than his yacht. Later we were to come across a model of the cat boat in Halifax’s maritime museum so this experience was another to confirm that Grandpa is living history.The museum also houses sections for the Titanic and for the 1st world-war disaster of the Halifax Explosion where a munitions ship collision caused an explosion that destroyed much of the city. Somewhat unbelievably, the local cemetery is also a tourist Mecca as there lie buried many of the casualties from the Titanic.
Other than icebergs what perils faced our intrepid sailor? Hurricane Bill had struck Halifax the weekend before we got there. The newspapers carried reports of a couple of tourists that had been washed off the rocks by the waves whipped up by that hurricane. Hurricane Danny had been downgraded to the status of a Tropical Storm (20 mph winds less than hurricane strength) but it was to cause significantly more damage than Bill.
In preparation of the approaching storm, all the lasers at the yacht club were turned upside down and pegged to the ground. As Hurricane Bill had turned out to be a non-event, the event marquee was not taken down. Mother Nature however seems to have the persuasive powers of all women. It was no surprise to learn the next morning that a flying tent had taken out the power-lines to 16000 homes. This led to many grumbles among the sailors that evening about the lack of hot showers.
An unsettled weather pattern followed the hurricane, and left the local race officers at a loss as to where and when the winds would blow. Races were generally very late starting and the radial grandmaster fleet only completed 9 of the 12 that were scheduled. As luck would have it Gill’s best races were among those abandoned before finishing and so the social side of the regatta had its work cut out to compensate for the disappointing racing. The pale amber ale was reminiscent of Lion Ale and proved to be a favourite. Graham who had come up for the weekend had by now filled 20GB of memory cards and after listening to his liver left us on the Wednesday.
After a week’s sailing in salty waters, the Sunday saw us scouring Halifax for a laundromat. We learned that if you stay in the sailing hotel venue you don’t expect a short queue for the hotel’s tubs. With reasonably dry clothing that would not be too embarrassingly whiffy we were ready to set off on the Monday for the return trip. First we flew from Halifax to Calgary – over miles and miles of flat wheat lands. Calgary used to be a cattle farming centre but is now a boom town and at the centre of the controversial oil sands mining. Calgary looked like it had an urban sprawl problem and reminded us of Johannesburg. It was also the point where a coach would collect us for our trip into the Rockies about 100km away.
At the foothills of the Rockies we stopped to board a helicopter. The one thing we have learned from tramping/hiking in New Zealand is that life is a lot easier if you have the right equipment. The ride was all too short but the views were spectacular. Then it was back on the coach and onto a cattle ranch which was also trying its hand at re-introducing bison. Back on the bus and up into the mountains we trundled along the Bow river valley that flows down to Calgary. The night stop over was at Lake Louise (a world heritage site and one of the prettiest spots we have ever come across on this planet).
The next morning the coach picked us up and took us up to the Ice Fields. We boarded another helicopter and flew over the Rockies to have a look at the glaciers. Then it was back on the bus, another ranch for a barbeque lunch and a bite of the Juniper berry (a light crush releases the flavour), and then onto the alpine town of Banff. Here we stayed a little out of town at the Rimrock Hotel opposite the open air mineral pool. The next morning we were picked up and taken down to Banff station where we boarded the Rocky Mountaineer for our two day train trip to Vancouver.
The brochure suggests the traveller might see moose, elk and bears from the train. Yeah right. Ever tried to sneak up on wildlife in a train? We did spot some long-horned mountain goats but other than the reflection in the window nothing that even vaguely resembled a grizzly.
There is no sleeping accommodation on the train so overnight it stopped at the town of Kamloops (a Karoo like town that left us feeling we were back in Graaf-Reinet but without the kids selling windmills). We were put up overnight at a mediocre Formula Zero type hotel. Breakfast and lunch were served in the downstairs dining car each day on the train. Upstairs the view is through a glass top dome – an essential as the track runs along the valleys of the Thompson and Fraser rivers and many of the views are best looking upwards. At least that is my claim as the whirl of the drinks trolleys and soporific meals may have induced a persistent need to recline.
Two days on a train even with the best of company and with all the food and alcohol one can consume is more than enough for the holiday of a lifetime. Perhaps it was because we were on the way home but we found ourselves looking forward to our next stop with two nights and two days to explore and see Vancouver.
Vancouver has been getting itself ready for the February 2010 Winter Olympics. It had opened its new Skytrain line to the airport a couple of weeks before we arrived. It is very well equipped for tourism and as a place to live one can understand why “Best Place to Live” surveys show it tops all other cities. It’s very pretty, easy to get around, has every imaginable facility and to top it all is a yachting paradise. We spent a very full day on Vancouver Island visiting the Butchart Gardens and the capital Victoria. Here a tour-bus took us to the ferry terminal from Vancouver, 3 hours across the Strait of Georgia to Sidney via the Gulf Islands, up and down the main island and back to Vancouver.
On our final day in Canada we wobbled across the Capilano suspension bridge, monkeyed through the tree tops and sashayed up the cable car and chair lift to the top of Grouse Mountain before doing the hop-on hop-off city tour around Vancouver. We were pretty exhausted even before boarding a direct flight back to Auckland and finding ourselves seated behind the kid from hell (to use his father’s highly euphemistic term). Whilst Air New Zealand didn’t manage to lose our luggage, it still managed to lose a day. When you add 24 hours onto a 13 hour flight it becomes 37 hours, minus an east to west time difference of 5 hours, plus a squealing baby.....equals a very long day.
We have yet to catch up with this lost day. In a small firm no one else is daft enough to be the fall guy (someone has to be blamed when things go wrong), so like the circus clown, it's nice to be missed. It’s rumoured that the stockbroker’s mantra is “Buy Sheep, Sell Deer” which may explain the incessant bleating from our stock pens.
The weather since returning has been much the same as we experienced in Canada – temperatures around 17/18’C, sun going down about 7.30 p.m. and with the days fast beginning to lengthen. (At the height of summer it gets dark here about 9.30 p.m.) There was some excitement last week when a freak snowstorm closed the road through the mountains to Napier and the drifts trapped some 200 cars, but things soon returned to normal when the snow melted after a couple of days.
Back on planet Earth, things are drying out – much like this newsletter.
___________________________________________________________________________
Picture of Napier's snowcovered foothills taken from Napier Hill - courtesy of Bill Dalton
No comments:
Post a Comment