Wet and secure in Mumbai

Our first stop in India was Mumbai. We arrived in dead of night, landing soon after 2.30am. Even at this hour the airport was bustling with passengers and groups of loitering overall-clad labourers. Over the year I’ve got use to seeing people everywhere in India no matter where you are and no matter what the time of day. With a population of 1.14 billion, you inevitably see a lot of people in India.

Our route to the hotel took us over the new Bandra–Worli Sea Link, a 5.6 kilometre highway that runs literally along the Indian Ocean coastline one hundred metres offshore. The route was still under construction the last time I visited Mumbai in 2008. It was desperately needed as Mumbai is built on a long, congested peninsular, resulting in time-sapping traffic snarls throughout the city. Since opening the link has reduced travel time between Bandra and Worli from 45 minutes to 7 minutes. At 3am in the morning we had the entire structure to ourselves.

As we approached our hotel, another significant change since my last visit became apparent. My company’s local office had booked us into the Trident Hotel in picturesque Nariman Point. This was one of two hotels attacked by terrorists in November 2008. Gunmen stormed the hotel on the evening of November 26 and killed 32 guests and staff, before armed forces were able to end the resulting siege three days later.

Prior to this attack you could drive up to the hotel’s main entrance without restriction. Today, the driveway is blocked by a grilled fence and gates. Security guards stop every vehicle, check its underside with mirrors and examine both the engine housing and the trunk before letting it pass. All guests must then pass through a metal detector and their luggage x-rayed before entering the lobby. Inside uniformed police were present throughout the hotel’s public spaces. We saw this pattern repeated again and again at every hotel we stayed at in India. I must admit it was somewhat eerie to walk the hallways of this hotel knowing that people had been killed here just two years earlier.

While I worked in our local office, Garry spent the day exploring Mumbai using a locally hired driver. Unfortunately, the monsoon rain swept in shortly after breakfast and the poor lad was soaked every time he ventured from his vehicle. Umbrellas offer little protection during a true monsoon downpour as water bounces violently from every exposed surface. He visited the Haji Ali Mosque, located at the end of a ramshackle causeway stretching into the Indian Ocean, and toured the Prince of Wales Museum. After dinner and drinks with staff we drove back to our hotel via the city’s famous Gateway to India and the majestic Taj Hotel.

Going wild in Alaska

In August 2010 Garry and I took an eight-day cruise from Vancouver up the Alaskan Panhandle. We then rented a car to drive up to Denali National Park. The following links bring together all of the blogs we made during this incredible journey.

Where is Mount McKinley?

Talkeetna – jetboats, bears and moose

The Glacier Train

The Gulf of Alaska

The Hubbard Glacier

Sea Otters in Sitka

Skagway- home of the Klondike Gold Rush

Whale watching in Juneau

Tracy Arm Fjord

Ketchikan – where bears catch salmon before your very eyes

Our cruise ship

Sailing out of Vancouver

Stanley Park in Vancouver

Grouse Mountain - Vancouver

Capilano Suspension Bridge - Vancouver

Up the Mount

The sun briefly broke through the clouds this afternoon here in the Bay of Plenty. After almost 300 millimetres of rain over the last few days, this part of New Zealand is looking decidedly soggy. I took advantage of the dry spell and ventured out to climb Mauao, or Mount Maunganui as it's more commonly known. This extinct volcanic cone rises 232 metres above sea level, offering a stunning view along the Bay of Plenty coastline from its summit. From here, you can marvel at white sand beaches stretching both North and South as far as the eye can see.

The summit of The Mount is a place of childhood memories. As a child, I'd always make an effort to conquer the summit at least once, any time we were in town - usually to visit my grandparents. They retired here in 1973, much as my own parents have subsequently done. The Bay of Plenty is one of New Zealand's warmest and sunniest locations, making it an ideal place to unwind and enjoy the perks of senior citizenship.


It's been a great many years since I last climbed the summit; at least a decade, possibly more. However, as I took my final steps today onto the broad, flat plateau along its peak, the view was exactly as I remember it. Now, as then, it's a wonderful reward for 50 minutes of steady uphill hiking. I was joined by dozens also seeking the same reward. As always, the Mount remains a popular location for scenic walks, jogging and even hang gliding (if conditions are right).

It would be fair to say that I'm definitely not as fit as I once was. I chose the least challenging track up the mountain, via its western flank.  However, I stopped more times than I care to admit to catch my breath and admire the view.

Something for Murray to read

Three days of hot, unrelenting sunshine in Las Vegas are rapidly becoming nothing more than a distant memory as I type this blog post. I'm in Tauranga visiting my parents. Since my arrival Friday morning we've endured three days of grey skies and almost continuous rainfall. At least one major highway in the area has been closed as a result of localised flooding.

Last night my Dad proudly declared that his rain gauge in side yard had recorded no less than 50 millimetres of rain during the previous 24-hours. Today, he says another 35 millimetres has fallen overnight. That's more than three inches in two days. After five years in London, the weather feels uncomfortably familiar.

Garry sensibly flew directly to Australia to visit his family where the weather has been predictably dry and sunny. Back in Tauranga my brother Matt came down from Auckland for the weekend, bringing his family with him. I continue to be amazed by how fast the kids are growing, and how well mannered they are despite being cooped up inside by the wet. I'm not sure my brothers and I were quite so well behaved under similar circumstances.

Yesterday, my niece Brooke, and I spent a fun-filled afternoon yesterday creating a coat-hanger mobile of the solar system. I can confidently inform readers that Jupiter is a large planet which takes far too long to colour-in by hand. My cousin Hilary and her daughter were also visiting, enroute to a family reunion in Christchurch next weekend. My parents will also be attending.


We did very little in Las Vegas other than wander the main Strip, enjoying the hot weather and generally relaxing. Garry did some great research and booked us into a suite at the Venetian at a great price. It's a classic Vegas resort; gaudy interiors and painfully faux recreations of Venice's urban landscape (complete with an indoor Grand Canal offering ludicrously overpriced gondolier rides). Our booking also included US$25 credit each to play on the slots which we duly did one evening. Personally, I was bored after 15 minutes and see no serious gambling addiction clouding my future horizon.


While in town we coughed up our hard earned cash for a couple of entertainment outings including the Titanic artifacts exhibition at the Luxor and tickets to Le Reve at Wynn Casino. I found the Titanic exhibition fascinating. It's been thoughtfully laid out, focusing very much on human aspects of this tragedy.

Each guest receives a passenger manifest card on entry which you can check against a giant passenger list as you exit. The board lists the names of all on board, separating names into those who either survived or perished on the night of April 14, 1912. It's a rather chilling experience to suddenly grasp the cruel fate that awaited the 1,517 who perished.

Some of the exhibition's artifacts are more memorable than others. I was captivated by the sight of an unopened bottle of champagne with a 1900 vintage, and by a 17-ton section of the Titanic's hull that was recovered in 1998. The hull section is almost four metres high and eight metres long. As you stand in the darkened exhibit hall, the scale of this sunken vessel becomes very apparent.


Le Reve was a riveting performance. I can only describe it as a Cirque du Soleil style production, conducted entirely in a giant swimming pool from which set pieces rise and submerge throughout the show. We had ideal seats, located in the middle of the theatre, which meant that many of the aerial acrobatics took place right in front of us. We watched incredible high-diving acts, strong man displays and other exotic circus displays of skill and strength.

Tomorrow I fly to Sydney and resume regular work. It'll a be rude awakening after a wonderful extended break. On Thursday, Garry and I will then fly to India where Garry has planned a whirlwind tour while I conduct a week of business meetings in three cities. No doubt there will be some delay before my next post so this one's especially for Garry's father, Murray, who complained about the most recent posting delay.

Members of the 70 Percent Club

We’re slowly making our way south as tomorrow we'll finally depart Alaska. Tonight we’ve based ourselves at the Mt KcKinley Princess Wilderness Lodge on the southern boundary of Denali State Park, about 200 kilometres north of Anchorage. On a clear day the lodge offers unrivalled views of Mt McKinley, less than 65kms away. Sadly, the view is currently blocked by the same low cloud that’s dogged most of our trip into the interior.


We’ve seen signs everywhere reassuring us that less than a third of visitors ever see the perpetually cloud-shrouded peak. They call those that miss out members of the “70 Percent Club.” Our hotel has blessed members with a large display photo of the stunning mountain vista we're meant to see rather than the drab grey cloud visible from the main balcony. Can you spot the difference above?


We’ve had to satisfy ourselves instead with expansive wilderness views as we travel south. Perhaps the most spectacular of these were those we experienced on the Park Road, west of Glitter Gulch. Private cars are permitted on the first 15 miles of the Denali National Park’s only roadway, before the route is restricted to a carefully managed shuttle bus service. We decided to drive as could and we could, before stopping briefly to enjoy scenic tundra views at Savage Creek, the turning point for private cars.


I continue to be fascinated by the boreal forests in this part of the world. These hardy pine forests encircle the entire northern hemisphere at this latitude, accounting for almost one third of the planet's entire forest area. The harsh tundra conditions and short growing season result in a landscape dominated by scrawny, adult pine trees. These trees look more like tatty pipe-cleaners, rather than the classic conical shape typically associated with fir trees. We saw a documentary earlier in the week that noted trees in these parts take a decade to grow less than 30 centimetres. This means that the tallest, battered three-metre specimens we’ve seen are at least a hundred years old.

Better than National Geographic

We’re in Denali National Park, 237 miles north of Anchorage. It’s a vast area covering more than four million acres of Alaskan wilderness, centred around the majestic Mt McKinley. Denali is actually the native American name of this mountain; translated its means the “Great One.”


We arrived here yesterday after driving up from Anchorage, a journey we broke in half by stopping for four hours at Talkeetna. We currently staying in the aptly named tourist depot of Glitter Gulch. Our hotel (which claims its really a wilderness lodge) is located on a bluff overlooking the swollen, silt-laden Nenana River.


We had made plans to take a shuttle bus into the park’s interior this morning and camp overnight at a lodge in Kantishna village. However, I was kept awake most last night suffering the effect of a chest cold that’s been building for days; coughing, spluttering and expelling large wads of fleem. I reluctantly decided a quiet day at our current location would help my health more than rattling around for six hours on a bumpy, gravel road. As much as the decision pained me, I have to admit that my chest is feeling better after a lazy day of napping and reading.


The decision to abandon our journey to Kantishna was made somewhat easier by yesterday bounty of nature-watching experiences. In short, we’d already enjoyed many of the animal encounters all but guaranteed by the park shuttle bus. The list of encounters reads like a National Geographic article.

Highlights from our drive north yesterday included:

• Watching our jetboat driver catch salmon by hand in a creek literally seething with spawning fish. This moment alone made it worth the brief stop we made in Talkeetna.


• Spotting an adult Bald Eagle sitting on a large nest. To date, during cruise excursions, we’d seen several nests with juveniles in resident, but never one with a nesting adult.


• Enjoying more than one Bald Eagle soar across the bow of our boat on more than one occasion.


• Watching a large Grizzly Bear amble along an opposing river bank, at times less than 100 metres from where we were standing. Our guide later estimated it was at least 800 pounds, or almost 400 kilograms.


• Stopping our car in the middle of nowhere to let a moose and two calves cross the road. The entire scene was straight out of a postcard we've seen displayed in almost every Alaskan tourist shop. (We’d already driven past another moose with young grazing on the roadside earlier in our journey so this wasn't even our first Moose sighting.)

In short, we’ve been living the National Geographic dream these last 48 hours. Alaska really is America’s final frontier.

Going wild

It’s 10am. We’re about to check-out of our hotel in Anchorage and collect a rental car. We’re off to Denali National Park today. Ahead lies almost 400 kilometres of roadway, snaking its way through some of the most remote wilderness we’ll ever see. Our first stop today will be at Talkeetna, 114 miles north. Here we’ll pause to enjoy a three-hour jet-boat ride up rivers chocked with spawning salmon before continuing on to Denali.

Tomorrow we’ll take a national park bus more than 150 kilometres into the heart of Denali National Park. The Park Road as it’s known is the only access into the park’s interior. This also makes it a popular route for wild animals traversing the area. Why struggle through bush and rocky terrain when there’s a handy gravel roadway nearby? We expect to see bears, moose and deer as we venture further inland; possibly round every other corner. We’ll then spend a night in a simple cabin before making our way back to the main highway on Saturday afternoon.

Our final night in Alaska will be in a country lodge south of the national park’s main entrance. Here we hope to enjoy spectacular views of Mount McKinley, North America’s highest mountain. On Sunday we’ll then make our way back down to Anchorage in time to catch an evening flight to the Lower 48. We’ll see you again in four days time.

Discovery Day

We've just arrived in Anchorage after an eventful day of wildlife encounters in Seward, rounded off by a spectacular four-hour train journey across the verdant wilderness of Kenai Peninsula. Garry's officially declared today, "Discover Day". It's almost midnight so I'll post a few photos now to wet your appetite. More details at a later date.

Cruising the Gulf

Our Alaskan cruise is almost over. We have just under 220 nautical miles to run across the Gulf of Alaska before our arrival in Seward tomorrow morning. With an afternoon of cruising ahead the ship has been putting on a variety of entertainment including an impressive ice-sculpting display by one of the chefs onboard. In less than 15 minutes he transformed a block of ice into a recognisable image of an American bald eagle. However, for me today’s entertainment highlight remains the scenery. For a brief time after lunch the skies cleared offering up spectacular views of the snow-clad coastal mountains that run the length of the gulf.


Unfortunately, the weather soon closed in again and the ship was wrapped in fog. We’ve been told that there’s a high probability we'lll see the Northern Lights if the sky is clear tonight. Apparently, astronomers witnessed an unusually powerful solar storm a couple of days ago. The peak energy flows are scheduled to hit the Earth this evening. Mother Nature seems determined to top any entertainment our ship can offer.

With the cruise coming to an end, so will our satellite-based Internet access. My posts will probably become less frequent in the days ahead as we venture into Alaska'a interior. The remote reaches of Denali National Park aren't renown for their comprehensive array of modern conveniences. We'll be roughing it now in comparison to the unending luxury offered by our cruise.

Hubbard Glacier

After a disappointing experience at the Mendenhall Glacier on Saturday, Garry and I decided that our Icelandic glacier adventures had spoilt us for life. That is, until we saw the Hubbard Glacier today. Shortly before 6am our cruise ship sailed into misty Yakutat Bay. The morning air was still and the water, usually calm; perfect conditions for getting up close to Hubbard Glacier that lay ahead. Little did we know just how perfect conditions were. Two hours later we found ourselves floating barely 400 metres away from a soaring 300-metre high wall of blue ice – closer than the ship is usually able to venture.


The experience is also impossible to describe. Imagine if you can an impossibly long wall of jagged, blue ice tapering off into the distance. Behind lie towering, snow-clad mountain peaks. Every so often this serene picture is shattered by the sound of ice growling and groaning as it inches towards the sea. Suddenly, without warning , a large chuck of ice cracks with an explosive boom. As you watch, it breaks away from the glacier’s face and crashes into the water below. It’s hard to decide if the initial sound, accompanying ice avalanche or almighty thundering splash are the event’s most dramatic moments.


Hubbard calved constantly while we were sat in front of its imposing face. Perhaps the highlight was a particularly dramatic pinnacle of ice, rising several hundred metres, that came crashing down literally moments after the photo of Garry and I above was taken. You can see the ice pinnacle in the first photo below, and see that it’s missing in the second photo. The accompanying splash spray I've captured has been thrown more than 100 metres into the air. This section of the glacier is known to calve regularly thanks to a strong current and daily rip tides that flow between it and nearby Gilberts Point.


We later learnt that Hubbard will sometimes advance right across this narrow stretch of water, shutting off Russell Fjord from the sea. The last such ice dam occurred in 2002 when it surged across the fjord in less than month. In 1986 Hubbard blocked the fjord for five months, resulting in a lake that rose 83 feet above sea-level. At the time it surged an unprecedented 30-metres a day. With so much activity, icebergs usually litter its face and chock the bay making it all but impossible for cruise ships to get particularly close. Today’s remarkably close encounter was a rarity.


Everything about Hubbard is big, really big. It’s the world’s longest alpine and tidewater glacier, stretching more than 113 kilometres from its source. The glacier originates in the Hubbard Icefield in the shadow of 15,000 foot Mount Hubbard, and terminates in Disenchantment Bay where its face spans an astonishing 13 kilometres of coastline. Hubbard is so wide that its scale isn’t initially apparent as you approach. The size of this ice giant came into stark relief on closest approach. As we stood more on the ship’s highest deck, more than 25 metres above the water, Hubbard was finally towering above us, stretching kilometres in either direction.

Sitka

Sitka was the capital of Russian America until Alaska was sold to the United States in 1867. It was founded by Alexander Baranof in 1799 who ruthlessly supplanted the native Kiksadi Clan of the Tlingit people. However, the Tlingit struck back in 1802, burning the Russian settlement to the ground. Baranof retaliated in 1804. He returned to the area with four ships, cannons and landing party of more than 150 men. Initially the Russians were unsuccessful and the battle for Tlingit Fort raged for days. Eventually, the natives ran low on supplies, particularly gunpowder, and were forced to abandon their fort under the cover of darkness. The town of Sitka soon rose in its place.


The site of the 1804 battle is now Alaska’s smallest national park. It’s a wonderfully picturesque woodland crossed by trails along which 18 totem poles have been erected. Most were first displayed at the 1904 Louisiana Exposition in St Louis before being moved to their present location. I spent a pleasant hour wandering the park, before heading off to the Sheldon Jackson Museum. I particularly wanted to see one exhibit; the infamous raven’s helmet worn by Chief Katlian during the 1804 battle.


The Russians came to Sitka for one simple reason; sea otters. The otters were highly prized for their rich, dense fur. Otter lack fat layers to keep them warm and thus are dependent on their fur’s insulting qualities. As a result, the sea otter has the densest fur of any animal in the world. Intensive hunting during the late 1700s and early 1800s brought the species almost to extinction. It was estimated that by 1911 less than 2,000 animals remained. Today, diligent conservation efforts have restored their numbers to above 150,000.


This morning we went in search of sea otters around coastal islands near Sitka. The experience was unforgettable. Sea otters are very social creatures and will often gather in large groups, or rafts. We came across several such groups on our tour. It was a breath-taking experience watching these cheeky animals spinning somersaults and happily floating on their backs. I could have watched them for hours. We also saw an occasional single otter rolling around in the middle of the sea, or dining on captured shellfish.


We later came across two humpback whales engaged in yet another unique feeding display. They were tail-slapping. This involves whales flicking their tails into the air and slapping them swiftly onto the surface of the sea. This stuns fish feeding below the surface, making them easy prey for the hungry whale.

You won’t believe this. Just as I finished typing this paragraph I glanced out the window of our cabin and saw another whale engaged in a tail-slapping display. Garry and I are becoming quite proficient whale watchers. We spot several on a daily basis from the comfort of our balcony.


The remainder of our day in Sitka was spent visiting many of its Russian-influenced highlights. The most prominent of these is St Michael’s Cathedral, a wooden Russian Orthodox cathedral in the centre of town. The current building dates from 1976. It’s a faithful reproduction of the original building destoryed during a fire that swept through the town's business district in 1966.


This earlier structure had stood for almost 120 years; housing priceless treasures such as gold and silver Russian icons. Fortunately, these were saved from destruction in 1966 by residents who braved the advancing flames. However, the most impressive item saved was the stunning chandler that hangs from the ceiling of the main dome. The locals clearly had plenty of time to complete their salvage.


I also ventured up a small hill behind the cathedral to visit Princess Maksoutoff’s grave. She died in 1862 and was the wife of the last Russian governor. She was the last Russian royal to be buried in Alaska before the territory was sold. Her grave is one of three sitting on a empty grassy knoll. A large sign-post makes it clear that this is a Lutheran cemetery, as a few metres away lies a fence line marking the start of the Russian Orthodox cemetery. Heaven forbid that anyone would confuse the long-dead Princess with the wrong Christian faith.

We ventured out to these islands to see colourful puffins bobbing about in the sea