Fishing The Wild Coast

Not far from the comforts of modern life in the mining town of Nhulunbuy in north-east Arnhem Land in Australia’s Northern Territory – where the town ends – nature takes over.

Just a few nautical miles out to sea, away from Nabalco’s alumina plant on Melville Bay, the landscape unfolds, monsoonal bushland hugs an endless coastline of orange/red to white sandy beaches, rocky points and outcrops and rich red bauxite cliffs – the same view Matthew Flinders saw in 1802 during his circumnavigation of Australia.

The islands, estuaries and rivers in the area are a magnet for passionate sports fishermen and divers. The warm, tropical waters are alive with coral and exotic and sought-after fish – barramundi in the estuaries and off the coast, barracuda, Spanish mackerel, black marlin, queenfish, coral trout, black jewfish, giant trevally and tuskfish.

Along with Bremer, Truant and Bromby Islands, dozens of other smaller outcrops dot the coast and past the strait called the Malay Road, named by Flinders after encountering a Malay fishing fleet there, the English Company’s Islands wrap around the coast to Arnhem Bay.

Further north-west, about 80 nautical miles from Nhulunbuy, the rocky finger of the Wessel Islands point into the Arafura Sea.

The run out to the open sea is not without its hazards, apart from the saltwater crocodiles which live throughout the islands, vessels from the earliest of times have negotiated the Hole in the Wall, known to the Aborigines as the Gugari Rip.

The 1.5km long, cliff-lined channel which separates Raragala and Guluwuru islands is little more than 100m wide at its narrowest point. It can only be negotiated by yachts and fishing boats when the tide is ebbing. When the tide is running, water surges through the rip at up to 13 knots. A day’s fishing out near Veronica Islet, about 12 nautical miles from the coast, and later at Bremer Island and East Woody Island closer to shore, yielded a grab bag of fish.

The weather was changeable, not uncommon for the Dry Season. The best time for fishing in Arnhem Land is from October to February, during the months leading up to and including the Wet Season. The colour of the water rolled through turquoise, aqua and jade as the glaring white clouds tumbled across the sky, throwing racing shadows on the sea.

The choppy seas and showers of the early morning gave way to calm as the fishing boat moved to protected waters behind Bremer and East Woody islands. The change of location marked a change of luck and within two hours, fishing produced any number of trevally, a blue fusilier, a Russell snapper, half a dozen black-tipped reef shark of about 5kg and a snub-nosed dart, all of which were thrown back.

“The one that got away” was large enough to bite through 60lb line while another “legendary” catch bent the hook before it disappeared into the depths.

Continued from Arnhem Land Part 1 – Into A Primal Landscape

To be Continued In Part 3

Photo Credits

Arnhem Land Coastline – Bush Tucker Man

The Gugari Rip – Bing Maps

Black Tipped Reef Shark – Public Domain

Arnhem Land – Part 2 is a post from: LIFE AS A HUMAN

For me, visiting a castle is an enchanting treat… and when I say enchanting I mean that I gaze off over the ruined ramparts fantasizing about what it must have been like in its glory, centuries ago. I definitely get my damsel in distress on while I’m at it, Disney princess-style. What horrific, beautiful or heartbreaking stories could these stones tell? Sub question: will a dashing, rugged young prince surprise me with flowers and a song from the far side of that ancient battlement? Perhaps not, but I still love the whimsy and romantic mystery that cling to the crumbled walls and over grown courtyards of the broken castles of Europe.

Urquhart Castle – Scotland

Once one of Scotland’s largest fortresses, these walls date all the way back to the 13th century, with even further whispers of fortifications on the site as early as the 6th century. The remains still stand majestically overlooking Loch Ness. The dark waters of the lake itself lend a certain air of magic to the castle, so it’s no surprise that most claimed Nessie sightings are from here. Imagine Robert the Bruce rallying soldiers in the fight for Scottish freedom from the still standing tower or soak in the whole panorama from the well groomed walking trail.

Spis Castle – Slovakia

Perched atop a perfectly sloped hill above the village of Zehra, Spis Castle is practically part of the geology. Bleached white stones form this ancient Romanesque fortress, one of the largest in Europe. Once a stronghold of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, it grew in size and splendor as a palace for royal and noble families, complete with a Gothic basilica, until 1780 when it burned. Now it is a site rich with local archaeology and there is a fascinating museum housed in the restored parts of the castle.

Kyrenia Castle – Cyprus

Standing sentry over the harbor of Kyrenia, this 7th century Byzantine castle is the stuff that fairy tales are made from. King Richard the Lionheart (remember, from Robin Hood?) took this castle during the Crusades, and you can still see how it withstood siege after siege in the centuries following. Thick utilitarian walls, stout towers and narrow archways make this a no frills fortress. You’ll have images of beautiful ladies swathed in silks, nibbling decadent fruits and sipping sweet wine from Rhodes as you lounge in the sun-baked courtyard.

Tintagel Castle – England

Thrust out into the Atlantic Ocean off of Cornwall, Tintagel is enchanting in its windswept ruggedness. Deep with legends of King Arthur dating back to the 12th century and also the supposed setting for the epic love story Tristan and Isolde, the mystical atmosphere is palpable. Though archaeological digs have yet to prove any of the stories, it is still a singular site. Don’t miss Merlin’s cave and the scenic walking trails among the ruined walls.

Heidelberg – Germany

This gorgeous red castle sprawls across the hill above the city of Heidelberg, a relic of forgotten splendor and unimaginable wealth. Built in the 12th century as more of a palace than a bastion, it withstood fires, lighting strikes, pillage and bombings before it was abandoned. Tourists have flocked to behold its weathered shell since then, most prominently, Mark Twain, who said, “Nature knows how to garnish a ruin to get the best effect.” Take the funicular up from town to see these crumbled walls, ornate spires and once magnificent halls for yourself.

Whether you seek the romance of myths or the history of what’s buried beneath these strongholds, they will wow you with their grand size, sweeping scenery and centuries of secrets.

Photo Credits

All photos licensed through Shutterstock

Guest Author Bio

Noella Schink
Noella Schink is a travel writer from Portland, Maine. She recommends a car rental in Europe for the castle ruin tour of a lifetime!

Top Five Ruined Castles in Europe is a post from: LIFE AS A HUMAN

Into A Primal Landscape

Raw, natural beauty abounds in Australia, but there are places in north-east Arnhem Land which must have been moulded by the hands of a primal god. The 650km flight east from Darwin to the town of Nhulunbuy on the Gove Peninsula takes little more than an hour, but it’s a world away.

Passing over Kakadu National Park and Oenpelli, the green-edged snakes of the East Alligator and Mann Rivers twist and uncoil across the dry, red landscape and Arnhem Land unfolds east to the horizon.

Occasional pillars of smoke billow up through the blue sky, made milky by the humid air. Fire is a tool the people of Arnhem Land have used for thousands of years and the smoke from a burn-off covering hundreds of square kilometres is enough to seed passing clouds and produce rain.

It is the Dry Season, the time of, Dharratharra, when the south and south-east winds cut across the land and sea, telling the people it is time to collect mud crabs and turtle eggs.

Arnhem Land isn’t so much a place as an experience. It is an elemental land, governed by earth, wind, fire and water – a mostly untouched wilderness of over 94,000 sq km where it’s often easier to bump into a crocodile than another human being.

Less than 40,000 people live in this wild kingdom about the size of the Australian state of Victoria, and most of them are the owners of this land, the Yolngu or “people”. The rest are Balanda, “European or white people” – mining and government staff, contractors, small business operators and some tourists – temporary visitors in a timeless place.

And Nhulunbuy is little more than an outpost in this vast nature’s keep, perched on the edge of the Gove Peninsula, where the Gulf of Carpentaria meets the Arafura Sea.

The town, with a population of about 4,000, was built in the early 70s as a life-support system for Nabalco’s huge bauxite mine. It has everything to attract jaded miners, and more – from the olympic-sized public swimming pool, golf, flying, surf, tennis, lawn bowls and squash clubs to the well manicured lawns and suburban streets alive with lush vegetation, Bougainvillea, Frangipanni, Banyan Trees and Carpentaria, Traveller and Coconut Palms.

Nabalco employs around 750 people and its mining operations and associated alumina plant, located 15km from Nhulunbuy on the 100sq km natural harbour of Melville Bay, is one of the largest bauxite mines in Australia.

With around 600 single men living in the town, it had all the makings of a rough diamond in the early years, and what went on in the “Animal Bar” is the stuff of local legend. But times change, and some of those rough edges have been smoothed to encourage tourism. The local supermarkets are well stocked with the necessities of modern life, provisioned by the weekly Perkins Shipping barge from Darwin, and for more discerning tastes, fresh fruit and veg is flown in from Cairns, along with such delights as King Island beef.

There is no road haulage into Nhulunbuy, with the only overland link to the outside world provided by the 700km-long Central Arnhem Rd or “Katherine Track”, which cuts through rivers and flood plains to the Stuart Hwy, 60km south of Katherine, and which is often impassable in The Wet.

The living in Nhulunbuy is not cheap, but high wages seem to compensate – there’s a late-model four-wheel-drive in many driveways and a “tinnie” or larger fishing boat on the front lawn. But nothing in this place is ordinary or suburban. Players on the nine-hole golf course are issued with 20 extra balls to discourage them from thrashing through the undergrowth on the banks of the nearby town lagoon, Gaynggaru. Bumping into a saltwater crocodile might put them off their game.

And early morning joggers keep a wary eye for water buffalo that occasionally wander through the town, oblivious to the fact that the land has been leased to Balanda miners.

Yachties from all over the world find their place in the sun at the Gove Yacht Club at Gove Harbour in Melville Bay. Gove is a final provisioning and repair stop for international yachties before heading to waters around the Gulf of Carpentaria, Indonesia, Papua New Guinea and points further north.

Every year in June, the club and its lush gardens which front the harbor were awash with high spirits and alive with sea banter.

More than 40 yachts from 9m to 22m lay at anchor on the tranquil waters, ready to take part in the annual Over The Top race, a 500 nautical mile 12-day Cruise in Company to Darwin along stunning coastline, linking with the Darwin to Ambon race.

Surrounded by thousands of square kilometers of monsoon forests, bushland, wetlands, estuaries, islands and rivers and with daily temperatures around 30C all year, living an outdoors lifestyle is easy and dining under the stars of a tropical night is the norm.

Continued in Arnhem Land Part 2 – Fishing The Wild Coast

Photo Credits

Salt Water Crocodile – Tourism NT

Arnhem Land Aerial View – Credit Pending

Darwin To Ambon Race – From The Darwin to Ambon Yacht Race & Rally Facebook Page

Gove Airport Terminal – by Dustin M. Ramsey

Crossing the Goyder River - By eyeweed on Flickr – Some Rights Reserved

Arnhem Land – Part 1 is a post from: LIFE AS A HUMAN

I fell in love with Costa Rica during a one day stop on a ten day Caribbean cruise. How could you not like a country that disbanded its army in 1949? The Costa Ricans, or Ticos as they call themselves very pragmatically decided after a bloody civil war that if there was no army then there would be no more civil wars, and they were right. This, along with its craggy volcanic peaks, cascading waterfalls, lush forests and breathtaking views prompts the nation’s sobriquet of “the Switzerland of Central America”. Costa Rica is a country of almost 5 million and an area of 51,000 square kilometers. It is located between Panama and Nicaragua.

Expatriates have long loved it’s stability and excellent health care system of this and have been attracted to the country by its “pensionado” program designed to bring retirees down, creating employment, jobs and a pleasantly international flavor to the country. Tourists are drawn by the fabulous eco-tourism opportunities facilitated by the fact that 25% of the country is designated conservation area.

Having vowed to return after my one day cruise stop, this winter found me spending a full week in Costa Rica’s Guanacaste Province in the northwest portion of the country. I had booked via Air Canada Vacations at the Flamingo Beach Resort on Playa Flamingo. My significant other had to cancel out but I found a not-at-all reluctant last minute companion in my baby sister Heather.

Perched on the fine white sand of Flamingo Beach our hotel had a panoramic view of low mountains, other nearby beaches and the Catalina Islands, a string of rocky sea stacks that stretches across the horizon like a strand of the beach vendors’ beaded jewelry.

In front of the hotel Jose Matagalpa (ph. 86-26-70-08), originally a Nicaraguan cowboy, has a string of well-groomed and well-loved horses he’ll rent to worthy visitors for a scenic one to two hour beach ride. He tailors his pace to the skill level of his guests. My sister, Heather, a top notch equestrian proved a challenge to him and they spent half the time galloping full tilt down the beach, with me inelegantly bringing up the rear.

After checking out the beach you may want to head inland to the nearby Rincon de la Vieja National Park where visitors can hike up the slopes of an active volcano to view the craters, crater lakes, bubbling springs of water and mud pools as well as varied wildlife. Several species of monkeys haunt the forests and can often be seen and heard. Warning: the howlers sound more like gorillas!

Heather and I spent our time here at the Buena Vista Ranch, commencing our day with a hike up through old growth forest to a spectacular network of ziplines. Well harnessed, we skimmed the treetops from platform to platform stationed high above the jungle floor.

Afterwards the quarter-mile long water-slide beckoned. This narrow concrete shoot is wedged between the huge trees which dot the volcanic slope and happily bore no resemblance to the ones found in most North American water parks. It’s not for the faint hearted, however.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Following our slide this we horseback rode down to the volcanic hot springs for a hot steam bath, a volcanic mud slathering, then soaks in pools of various temperatures nestled alongside a cascading stream. This treatment is reputed to have potent anti-aging effects. I spotted a group of teenagers and joked with Heather that they were the members of a senior citizen tour group we’d spotted earlier.

That evening we made our way up the Mary Sol, a restaurant and bar with awesome views of the sunset and excellent food. It’s a local tradition to watch the sun as it sinks into the depths of the Pacific Ocean from here. If you don’t have a car and the climb up the hill is too daunting, they have a shuttle they’ll send for you.

The following day I booked a jet ski tour through Playa Vida to see the Catalina Islands and snorkel at Honeymoon Beach. The bizarre sea stacks are intriguing and the jet ski ride, headed by Playa Vida guide, Yasser, was an incredible rush as the two of us blasted across the chop of the bay, sometimes becoming air borne. Again, the tours are adjusted to the skill level of the participants and Yasser had taken a young family for a jet ski adventure earlier in the calm morning waters.

Visitors can also go to the nearby Las Baulas National Park for an opportunity to see endangered leatherback turtles laying there eggs on the beach, or they can venture further afield to the Monteverde cloud forest or the Arenal volcano. There is also a great opportunity to take a side trip from Guanacaste to Nicaragua and see the spectacular old colonial city of Granada, and to get a close look at the Masaya volcano, sometimes called “the Gates of Hell”.

I would like to have done a great deal more but it would take a solid month or more to see all that Costa Rica has to offer. Needless to say, to paraphrase a former California governor, “I’ll be back”.

If you go:

Costa Rica Tourism Board
1-866-COSTARICA

For travellers from Canada
Air Canada Vacations

Photo Credits

All Images By George Burden – All Rights Reserved

Costa Rica Calls is a post from: LIFE AS A HUMAN

It’s always an adventure to eat in foreign countries. Strange smells, curious colours, tantalizing tastes. (And, occasionally, uncomfortable gastronomic conditions which go by many colourful names but my favourite is from Syria, where I got to experience a bathroom-related temporary condition which the locals called “yallah yallah” meaning, literally, “quickly quickly”.) But lately I’ve spent a lot of time in Thailand. There are many pleasant surprises for the foodie in this tropical kingdom.

For starters, I’m very happy to report that the food we get in North American Thai restaurants is indeed authentic and would be familiar at any high street establishment back home. Compare this to the typical “Chinese” food we get at home which, while tasty in a deep-fried kind of way, bears no resemblance whatsoever to actual cuisine found in the world’s most populous nation. Japanese food in North America is more authentic, but our beloved and ubiquitous sushi is a rare delicacy in Japan – usually reserved for wedding feasts – and actually quite difficult to find in a typical Osaka eatery. Not so in Thailand. Phad thais, green curries, kao phads – all were in abundance from Bangkok to Bunyasiriphant’s Roadside Cart.

This concept of humble authenticity really hit me after I’d given a presentation at a government office and our hosts had arranged for lunch with a row of steam trays in the corridor. I joined the line, slopped some rice onto my plate and took a polite sample of the offering in each stainless-steel tray. Typical, institutional food, and it was obvious by their casual behaviour that my hosts didn’t think the meal anything special. But it was! It tasted like the food served at Sabhai Thai, my wife’s favourite restaurant in our local village. So there I was, eating run-of-the-mill, cafeteria food, and feeling like I was dining gourmet. Seriously, folks, they eat like this all the time.

(Full disclosure, I skipped the dessert of what looked like jellied eyeballs.)

But the biggest surprise actually came at one of the hotels I stayed at in Bangkok – Le Meridien, if you’re curious. I ordered breakfast in my room so I could get on the phone to Vancouver while folks in the office were still at work, and a typical selection of scrambled eggs, bacon and pastries arrived. But then, nestled in a pretty, wee basket, were some tater tots. I can take tater tots or leave them, but these were – without question – the finest, most delicious tater tots I have ever had. I seriously wondered if they filtered the oil in which these were fried through virgin, $100-bills. I never would have placed tater tots in the realm of fine dining, but these little golden beauties were like nuggets of sunshine, captured and deep-fried in a land that knows how to make good food.

And I think that’s it. If food is important to a culture, they take every meal seriously. It reminds me of a time I was in Antibes, France, and I ordered the cheese platter because I was hungry and I figured that would be quick. The waiter obviously didn’t hear me properly, and assumed with a sniff that this ill-cultured North American had ordered the cheeseburger, not cheese platter. Can you hear how they sound the same? I’m being charitable too. Anyway, the cheeseburger eventually arrived, and I was so hungry by this time that I wasn’t sending it back and waiting even longer. I am North American, after all, and who amongst us can say no to a cheeseburger when it’s sitting right in front of you? And, mon dieu, was that not – without question – the finest, most delicious cheeseburger I have ever had. It’s like the chef was ordered to put cheeseburgers on the menu because of the international clientele, and with an exasperated sigh he decided that if he was going to be forced to offer the symbol of the nouvelle bourgeouisie americaine, it was going to be the best damn burger this world had ever seen.

But I digress.

Another, shall we say, exciting element of eating in foreign lands is that you are not always sure exactly which animals are considered eligible for the menu. At one beachside café we were enjoying a wide variety of local dishes ordered in Thai by our host, the lovely Akanit. Everything was delicious, but one dish consisted of breaded and lightly-fried packets – perhaps thrice the size of those tasty tater tots – that my colleague Ken and I agreed were fantastic. I was in the middle of chewing my third sampling when Akanit turned to us and said (we both swear we heard the same thing):

“These are made from cat meat.”

I fought down the gag reflex. Hard. “What?”

Ken and I exchanged wide-eyed glances. He nodded in horror.

She repeated herself, speaking very clearly. Thankfully my ear was well tuned to the Thai accent and I understood her properly this time: “These are made from crab meat.”

Phew. Lunch staying down. When we explained the misunderstanding, Akanit laughed out loud and assured us that dogs and cats are considered pets in Thailand, not delicacies. While I’m still not sure about the jellied eyeballs, I feel pretty safe in Thailand eating what’s put in front of me. Even the “hundred-year-old eggs” were quite good.

So amongst all the many reasons I’d recommend a trip to Thailand – beautiful beaches, gorgeous weather, ancient temples, friendly people, and good value for money – the food has to top the list. It’s seriously like eating at your favourite Thai restaurant every day, and even the non-Thai food can be spectacular when made in the kitchens of this kingdom. Best of all, because the food is generally very healthy and spicy, you can eat as much as you feel like and maybe even lose weight on your trip.

Sounds like a tasty slice of heaven to me.

 Photo Credits

All photos by Bennett R. Coles – All Rights Reserved

Tastes, Treats and Moments of Terror in Thailand is a post from: LIFE AS A HUMAN

The low price was startling. A sign outside the smart looking motel on South Padre Island, Texas, advertised rooms for just $34.99. Other nearby motels were almost as cheap — $36.99. We haven’t seen US prices like that for decades.

But this is a key reason why Canadian visitors told us that the Gulf coast of south Texas is “the best kept secret for sun-seekers.”

This area gives Florida a serious challenge. Summer, when Canadians usually stay near home, is high season in south Texas (big city folks from Dallas, San Antonio and Houston flock to the seashore to beat the heat). So the rest of year (except for a week or two in early March when the spring break college crowd gathers) is off-season with a sub-tropical climate and amazing prices for food, accommodation and attractions. Plus, the beaches on the outer islands of the Texas coast are extraordinary.

Our first stop was Corpus Christi, a thriving port city of 300,000, protected by a long, sandy barrier island. Like many cities, the downtown has suffered decay but is being revitalized with more hotels and good restaurants.

Before hitting the beach on nearby North Padre Island, it’s worth a day or two exploring some unique attractions in the city. Foremost, in our view, is a giant piece of World War Two history. The USS Lexington, the oldest remaining aircraft carrier in the world, is now tied up in Corpus Christi Bay as a National Historic Landmark. The huge ship, three football fields long, was known as the Blue Ghost for its apparent invincibility in the Pacific war against the Japanese. It was built in 1942 and served in active duty until 1991 when it was decommissioned and donated to the city of Corpus Christi. Guests can now visit the massive indoor hanger, see dozens of vintage and modern planes spread out on the long deck and climb narrow staircases as the sailors did, to living quarters and the operational areas. There’s even a flight simulator and IMAX type theatre.

Nearby the Lexington are the Texas State Aquarium (remarkable for a small city, with many hands-on exhibits), the gleaming white Art Museum of South Texas and the Museum of Science and History, which specializes in marine archaeology. That museum includes the remains of both the oldest recovered French and oldest recovered Spanish ships in the western hemisphere, as well as full-size replicas of the Christopher Columbus ships, Pinta and Santa Maria. The Nina replica is berthed at the Corpus Christi marina.

Most people come to south Texas for the beaches, so we crossed a long causeway to reach Padre Island, the longest barrier island in the world. Parallel to the coast, the narrow strip of sand stretches almost 200 kilometres from Corpus Christi south to the border of Mexico. The smooth sand is firm enough to handle vehicles, so many cars and trucks drive along the beach (15 mph limit) or park by the surf for fishing or a picnic. We drove along the beach and the quiet highway to the small resort community of Port Aransas that prides itself on having no big box stores and no McDonalds. Instead, the town of 3,500 offers relaxation, good seafood restaurants and excellent fishing and birding.

One cannot drive the length of Padre Island (much of it is designated as “National Seashore”), so visitors travel inland on Route 77 to reach the southernmost part of Texas, its “tropical tip”, and the pleasures of South Padre Island.

Boasting the best beaches in Texas, along with world-class birding, fishing and dolphin watching, the community of South Padre Island has fewer than 3,000 residents much of the year but happily handles 60,000 to 100,000 visitors on hot summer weekends. The attractions are many. We visited a sea turtle conservation building on Padre Boulevard where guests learn about the five species of sea turtles found in the Gulf of Mexico and where injured turtles are kept until well enough to return to the wild. Close by is the South Padre Island Birding and Nature Centre, with a five story observation tower overlooking the bay and boardwalks that extend over four acres of wetlands frequented by a large variety of wildlife, including hundreds of species of migratory and local birds. In the afternoon we boarded a boat for dolphin viewing. Seven pods of the mammals, numbering about 250 individual dolphins, frequent the bay and immediate Gulf area. They love to get up close to tour boats and show off.

Food on South Padre Island is inexpensive and delicious. You can bring your own fresh-caught fish to many of the seafood restaurants and they’ll gladly cook and serve it to you, along with salad and dessert, for about 15 to 20 dollars. For breakfast we tried Yummies Bistro (rated a well-deserved number 1 on Trip Advisor) and found a new favourite dish – fresh grapefruit pie. Unique and amazing! Evenings are so pleasant in south Texas, everyone will enjoy the sunset dinner cruise on the Southern Wave Catamaran. The boat glides up the bay side of the island, past beautiful homes, while a talented singer rolls out clever ballads and the chef serves a feast of fresh grilled shrimp and Mexican fajitas.

Our vacation sunset came all too quickly as we headed to the mainland city of Harlingen (along with Brownsville, it has the closest airport to South Padre Island) for a quick visit and a flight home. This city of 75,000, with a small home-town feel, boasts the original Iwo Jima Memorial (based on the famous photograph, it’s 10 metres tall with an 18 metre flagpole) that has a better known brass copy in Washington, DC. The downtown is enlivened with large, colourful murals, including one honouring Bill Haley (of “Rock Around the Clock” fame) who died in Harlingen after spending much of his life here. An old-fashioned soda shop downtown has a showcase filled with Bill Haley and the Comets memorabilia. Near the city are flourishing citrus groves and aloe plantations.

In Harlingen we met John and Lucy Morey of Port Dover, Ontario. Retired for a decade, they’re now known as “Winter Texans” (the term, “Snowbirds”, seems to be reserved for Florida) and spend several months of each year in this part of the Lone Star state. “We tried Florida,” John Morey told us, “ but here in Texas people are just much more friendly and the cost of living is much less.” He and his wife noted that they could play a round of golf for $12 and buy wine or beer in a store or restaurant for less than half the price they pay in Canada. They also love it that Mexico is close by. “I can drive 30 minutes to Progreso, Mexico, and get a thorough cleaning from a good dentist for $20.”

Lucy Morey noted that more and more Canadians seem to be discovering south Texas. “Actually, we’re taking over,” she laughed. “We have friends here from all ten provinces.” John Morey agrees. “We come here because it’s warm and I think it extends my life. I don’t have to deal with cold weather.”

Photo Credits

All photos by John & Sandra Nowlan

On board the USS Lexington Museum

Original Iwo Jima Monument in Harlingen, Texas

Cars are Allowed on many Texas Beaches

Shrimp Boats and Corpus Christi Skyline

South Texas is a post from: LIFE AS A HUMAN

Winters aren’t what they used to be in Nova Scotia. At one time you could count on snow and ice…and plenty of it in March. But this year the March temperatures soared to an unprecedented 27 degrees Celsius (80 degrees Fahrenheit) and a sudden urge to migrate surged in my soul.

Mind you it was only for a weekend and only an hour-and-a-half migration by motor vehicle. Nevertheless, it took us a world away, to the Bay of Fundy and the Annapolis Valley. I booked an overnight at the Silver Shoe B&B in the quaintly named town of Upper Canard (canard being French for duck if your high school French is a bit rusty).

Ensconced here my friend Amanda and I planned our activities which included a hike to the end of Cape Split, a moderate to difficult five hour round-trip hike depending on fitness and which trail chosen.

The reward is a view of the stark sea stacks and surging and swirling currents at the narrow point where the Fundy tides, the world’s highest, form currents that would suck a human down in a second, never to be seen again (hint: don’t plan on going for a swim).

Fossil hunters can check out Blue Beach in nearby Hantsport. Large areas of ancient sea bottom are exposed and you can see 200 million year old sand and mud ripples once again, briefly displayed.

Visitors frequently find petrified fronds of ancient trees, fish scales and a lucky few the jaws and needle-like teeth of ancient fish endemic to the area. Make sure you check out the tides or you may turn around and find that your avenue of escape is cut off by rising tides and shear cliffs. More than a few visitors have had a dunking or worse.

Hantsport is also the site of a docking facility for gypsum boats that ship out loads of the profuse deposits of what was once ancient sea life.

Visitors can choose to visit local vineyards such a Pete Luckett’s vineyard with its British call box perched in the middle of a field, or the granddaddy of Nova Scotia vineyards, Grand Pre Winery. Fine restaurants dot the Annapolis Valley and it’s not hard to find a delicious meal whether your taste runs to gourmet cuisine, fresh fried haddock or scallops and chips. We chose an al fresco lunch from the luscious fresh bread and homemade cheeses at the Foxhill Cheese House.

There’s also lots of fodder for antique hunters and we came away from  in Grand Pre with two one-hundred year old Canadian National Railway lanterns used to guide trains before higher tech methods became available. I managed to get a scarce blue globed lantern while Amanda snapped up the amber one. There’s still a red one left for any railroad buffs in the area.

The Grand Pre National Historic Site was open with its great display of artifacts and attractive gardens, albeit denuded by the Maritime winter, as mild as it was. No sign of Evangeline or Gabriel was present though one could certainly feel the ambience of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow epic poem with Acadian dykes still in evidence everywhere, reclaiming fertile land from the sea for three centuries.

A short distance further takes you to Evangeline Beach, where somewhat over half the world’s semi-palmated sand pipers briefly gorge themselves in early August before continuing on their migration.

Though most attractions are at their peak in the summer, winter visitors to Sheffield Mills can enjoy the unprecedented sight of hundreds of eagles in January and February. Enjoying a free lunch as much as anyone, the locals provide a morning brunch for the eagles for several weeks…and they come in droves.

I could go on and on about the attractions in the Annapolis Valley…but why not come and explore for yourself?

If you go …

Atlantic Canada Tourism

Silver Shoe B&B

Grand Pre Winery

Foxhill Cheese House

Photo Credits

All Photos By George Burden – All Rights Reserved

Off Season In The Annapolis Valley is a post from: LIFE AS A HUMAN

The eccentric work of Filipino Professor Julian Jumalon hasn’t taken the art world by storm.

But the vivid splashes of tropical colour his butterfly-inspired artwork has added to the urban sprawl of the Philippines metropolis of Cebu City has managed to migrate all over the world.

Beneath a net of crazily criss-crossed power lines that drape from buildings to poles, the narrow backstreets that lead to the home of the late Professor Jumalon in suburban Basak are grey and grimy, with jumbled buildings propping up street-side stalls.

In the poorer barangays (council areas), street people push hand carts and tricycles made from water pipe, wrought from the ad-hock necessity of the daily struggle of life in the Philippines.

Professor Jumalon, a fine arts graduate, died in 2003 at the age of 90 after a lifetime spent collecting butterflies, painting and creating what are known as lepido mosaics.

The Jumalon Museum, Butterfly Sanctuary and Art Gallery is today run by his sons, Osman and Renae, but the lepidopterist’s humble garden is still a haven for hundreds of butterflies in season, with food plants attracting more than 50 different species.

In a colourful and sometimes risqué hour-long presentation, Renae explained the lives of butterflies and insects, focusing on the 30-odd species in Professor Jumalon’s butterfly collection.

Giant butterflies framed under glass hang amidst jumbled collections of coins, stamps, dolls, seashells, fossils and native artefacts – the lifetime efforts of a dedicated collector.

The simple gallery features a number of paintings and intricately detailed artworks made from thousands of damaged butterfly wings discarded by collectors, mailed to Professor Jumalon from around the world.

Jumalon recycled them into “paintings” using nature’s palette for inspiration. The artist used tiny slivers of the wings, painstakingly pieced together with scalpel, tweezers and glue to create a patchwork of vivid, tropical colours.

Electric blue, flashing emerald and opalescent green, mellow gold and velvet black butterfly wings were carefully blended into intricate mosaics of birds, animals, forests and people.

More than 900 butterfly species have been discovered in the Philippines, ranging in size from tiny yellow-winged flickers of colour in the jungle to the giant 8cm wingspan of Troides Magellanus, the biggest butterfly found in the archipelago.

In his lifetime, Jumalon discovered 20 new butterfly species and created 60 lepido mosaics, from a portrait of former Filipino president Jose Rizal to tribal art, jungle scenes and tropical birds.

His artwork hangs in galleries from Manila to Hong Kong and in the Vatican in Rome.

The museum and sanctuary has been open free to the public since 1974, with no admission fee set to enable access to students from poor barangays.

Photo Credits

Troides Magellanus – Wikimedia Commons – Creative Commons

All Other Photos Are © The Jumalon Museum

Artistic Metamorphosis is a post from: LIFE AS A HUMAN

The moment my teenage daughter spots Naked Ed, she begs me to turn the canoe around.

Of course I do, but so as not to seem impolite, my partner Alison and I make small talk with the bearded, bespectacled nudist descending full frontal to the perch on his deck. It’s not like spotting him was a complete surprise. He was among the exotic wildlife we’d hoped to see on this paddle down the Sante Fe River in central Florida, not far from Gainesville. He’s even listed as an attraction on the map of the river supplied by the unkempt guide who rented us the canoe. Still, the face-to… um… face meeting is disconcerting to all four of us, my 11-year-old son included. We ask Ed how long he’s been greeting visitors to Lily Springs, this clear pool a short paddle off the main river.

“Thirty-six years,” he answers. Alison observes how peaceful it is here. I develop a theory about why as I busy my eyes with the hand-painted signs tacked to the trees along the banks, one of which seems to explain Ed’s naturalist tendencies. “I can’t afford to go see the world, so I let the world come to see me.” My daughter rolls her averted eyes. She’s seen quite enough of Naked Ed. We let the crystal current from Lily Springs carry us back to the Santa Fe.

From beneath Florida’s flat landscape, eight billion gallons of water bubble from the state’s aquifers every day, the limestone substrate shot through with holes enough to give Florida one of the highest concentrations of springs in the world. The Wakulla Spring in Edward Ball Wakulla State Park near Tallahassee is a favourite among divers and paddlers. Wakulla is a giant rivalled only by Manatee and Silver springs, but these are just three of over 600 in central and northern Florida. Named for the gentle manatees or sea cows that winter in the relatively warmer waters there, Manatee Park is off limits to paddlers and even swimmers from December to March, although both are permitted in the Suwannee, that river of Florida’s famous state song, which is fed by a huge 75 foot wide spring.

Just on our short paddle we pass four of Santa Fe’s springs. One of them, Blue Springs, is privately owned. There are dozens of others, many preserved inside state parks. We drift in the shade of stately live oaks laden with Spanish moss in search of alligators – we’ve yet to see one on our March Break escape to Florida. But we soon realize that turtles and birds far outnumber alligators. Lined up on logs by the dozen as if stuck in a slow motion traffic jam, the turtles are easy to spot. By the time we arrive at our destination at Ginnie Springs a couple hours later, my son and I have counted 330 turtles, a couple dozen herons and some kites and ducks… but not a single alligator.

Families picnic on the riverbank next to Ginnie Springs where they’ve come to cool off in the 30 million gallons of water that gush up into the Santa Fe every day. A dependable 68 to 72 degrees, Florida’s springs are always perfect for a cooling dip. A set of steps leads to the water where a dozen people splash about. Most swimmers here can’t resist hovering over the limestone shelf visible beneath the clear waters. The lure of the dark mystery beneath – the entrance to dozens of other springs – has earned Ginnie Springs the reputation as one of the world’s best freshwater dives.

I can’t resist. Donning my mask and snorkel – a sight that draws guffaws from my family who are too intimidated to join me – I jump in and swim with small fish at the opening of the aquifer. But I dare not get too close – looking down the throat of a black, underwater cave undoes my courage. Anyway, it’s just about time for our guide to pick us up and return us and our rented canoe back to our car, so I take a last look around and swim to the surface.

From the canoe rental shack back in High Springs, we thank our kindly guide and head into town for some lunch. The kids lick ice creams while I survey the drink menu – an ice cold beer, that’s the thing… “Look at this!” I nearly shout, pointing to the only micro brewed beer on the list, one made exclusively for this restaurant, and in particular to the label featuring a bearded bespectacled nudist. We laugh together – my daughter rolling her averted eyes yet again – and I order a Naked Ed Pale Ale.

Photo Credits

All photos by Darcy Rhyno

Family canoe trip in search of exotic wildlife on the Santa Fe River, Florida.

Turtle traffic jam on the Santa Fe River, Florida.

Spanish moss-laden live oak on the Santa Fe River, Florida.

Too Close to Nature in Florida is a post from: LIFE AS A HUMAN

A plaque from Guinness World Records in the ship’s well appointed library makes it official. We’re cruising on the planet’s largest, fully rigged sailing ship.

The 135 metre long Royal Clipper, boasting five massive masts (the tallest of which soars 60 metres above the waterline) and 42 sails, carries up to 220 pampered passengers on a series of Mediterranean and Caribbean itineraries. The guests tend to be well travelled and wary of traditional cruise ships. Many are sailors themselves who crave the thrill of open seas and snapping lines aboard a truly special vessel.

Based on the 1902 design of the Preussen, the world’s first and fastest five-masted sailing ship, the Royal Clipper looks like it time-travelled from a century ago – including fake gunports along its white hull to scare off pirates. Once aboard, the brass and dark wood fittings throughout the ship, marine paintings, comfortable leather furniture in the public rooms along with complex rigging along the teak decks continue to evoke the pleasures and perils of life on a schooner many decades ago.

But the Royal Clipper is decidedly modern in many of its attributes. Built in 2000, it adds the luxury that cruise ship passengers now expect but without the crowds, casinos, bingo or in-your-face photographers. Instead, guests get the unique experience of slicing through seas under full sail while enjoying the spacious library, lounges and bars or sitting in a deck chair under billowing canvas – it’s actually Dacron – watching the well-trained crew trim the 5,000 square metres of sail.

The staterooms aboard Royal Clipper are spacious and comfortable with plenty of storage space and modern amenities like satellite television and excellent air conditioning. Most rooms have portholes, which just add to the sailing experience.

In the golden days of sail, schooners never had atriums but the designers of the Royal Clipper used their imagination to add a unique three-story foyer that opens up from the lower-level dining room to one of the three swimming pools on the top deck. What’s more, the pool has a glass bottom that allows the diffused light to filter into the dining area (breakfast and lunch are buffet-style while dinner is a more formal affair with an extensive menu and excellent service). Our open-seating table was usually directly below the swimming pool so we often thought of the damage a catastrophic leak would cause! The lower portholes were also reinforced against leaking. In fact, the well-equipped spa and gym are below water level so the viewing windows allow a look at underwater life or surging foam as the ship speeds along.

A special attraction of the Royal Clipper is its stern, which lowers to reveal a sports platform. There’s a roped off swimming area but the ship also carries kayaks, a Laser sailboat and equipment for snorkeling, SCUBA and water skiing. We enjoyed a couple of dips in the warm Mediterranean as the ship anchored near the Amalfi Coast and off Taormina, Sicily.

But getting to those ports is a highlight of any Clipper cruise. Once anchors are hoisted and sails begin to unfurl, the on-deck speakers begin playing the stirring music from the film, 1492. As “Conquest of Paradise” by Vangelis picks up its tempo, the Chief Mate, Julien Giroux of Montreal, calls out directions to the quartermaster at the big ship’s wheel and directs his crew to the appropriate pulleys and winches to maximize the impact of the breeze. It’s a routine that even frequent guests say gets to them emotionally every time.

This rousing beginning leads hours later to fascinating ports where efficient tenders take passengers to town centres or waiting busses. Our cruise sailed from Rome to southern Italy and Sicily with many memorably highlights. Chief among them were the Amalfi coast where homes and ancient ruins cling to steep, rocky cliffs. We took a bus along this narrow, precarious route where drivers need special skills and infinite patience. On Sicily we took a switchback road close to the 3300-metre summit of Mount Etna, Europe’s largest and most active volcano, where a cable car and giant, four-wheel drive Mercedes vans took us the rest of the way. With thin air and constant sulfur-laden smoke seeping from the volcano’s caldera and cracks in the ground, it was literally breathtaking. Off the northeast coast of Sicily, we visited another smoke-spewing volcanic island (appropriately named “Vulcano”) where hot, sulfuric mud baths attracted many for their supposedly beneficial effects. At night we passed the most northerly of these Aeolian Islands where the peak of Stromboli gave us the kind of fireworks show that’s been guiding and frightening mariners for centuries.

As we headed back towards Rome, Martha and Jim Gregg of San Francisco told us they were on their third Clipper cruise – the line also has two smaller sailing ships, Star Flyer and Star Clipper. “We like the sails and the small size of these ships,” they said. “Those floating hotels freak us out. We tried a regular cruise ship once and we’ll never do it again.”

Susan and Peter Zuker of Boston agree. “We’re not interested in any ship that doesn’t have sails,” they said. “We love visiting small ports where the big ships can’t go. On this ship you have the genuine feeling of being at sea. It’s like going back a hundred years…but with lots of extra pleasures.”

Photo Credits
©John Nowlan

Sails and Adventure: The Royal Clipper Experience is a post from: LIFE AS A HUMAN