The sleeping dragon of Stromboli

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There was a low rumble high above us and moments later plumes of sandy coloured smoke began pumping out from the top of the volcano – we were certainly back in volcano land, although many miles from Mount Etna…

Volcanoes have been dominating our sailing voyage this past week, as we left the smoking shores of Sicily and Mount Etna, to head through the straits of Messina towards the Aeolian Islands, we spotted another sleeping dragon as Stromboli Island emerged on the horizon.

Our minds hadn’t been on volcanoes as we sailed through the straits into the Tyrrhenian Sea. We’d been focused on other dangers like the currents, hidden whirlpools, and more critically swordfish fishing boats! These strange craft were moving about erratically at the entrance to the straits and moving at high speed in pursuit of these enormous fish.

We’d already tasted swordfish bought fresh at the fish market where they chopped up the red flesh from gigantic carcasses proudly on display, dwarfing the trays of clams, prawns and anchovies. The swordfish boats, called Feluccas, are a sight to be seen; with their huge bowsprit extending 50 feet out from the bows, they are steered by a fearless fisherman who sits at the top of the 100 foot mast watching for the swordfish to appear and then taking chase.

It reminded me of ‘Jaws’ as we watched the extraordinary boats turn and swerve and gather speed as the fish swam away. We learned some sad things too. Swordfish mate for life and if the female is caught her mate remains loyal and won’t leave the area, so inevitably ends up being caught. That tale was going to play on my mind if we had swordfish again.

Leaving the Feluccas behind, the Aeolian islands were coming into closer view and soon we spotted the stream of white smoke from the distant island of Stromboli. I wasn’t sure how close we’d feel like going to this very active volcano, which apparently erupts every 20 minutes! There were stories of boats getting covered in ash and sailors struggling with the sulphur smells.

We had a taste of bad smells on the first island we anchored off called Vulcano, where sulphur mud baths beside the port gave off a smell like bad eggs. None of us were tempted to take a dip in the stinky creamy pools, or climb to the rim of the extinct volcano crater in the rising temperatures. Instead we enjoyed swimming in the clear waters below and bought freshly caught fish from a passing fishing boat, who called out “fishy! fishy!” as they wove between the anchored visitors.

Stromboli was our last island stop before the journey towards the Italian coast and we decided to sail on the north of the island to take a closer look at the eruptions. Sure enough every 20 minutes an eruption started. As we drew closer we even spotted red flames spouting up and lava rocks bouncing down the sides and plopping into the sea below. We let the boat drift, not too close, while we watched for another eruption. I hoped there would be no engine trouble if we needed it suddenly. You never really know when it’s going to blow big, as we’d seen a few days earlier on Mt Etna. The rumbles were quite loud and regular, but eventually we sailed on to find an anchorage at a slightly safer distance.

Anchoring took some time, as the beaches shelved very steeply and with black sand it was hard to see the bottom. Eventually we were set, due to some fearless snorkelling to ensure our anchor had dug into the sand. This was even more heroic as jelly fish had been spotted floating by!

I’d been quite happy to stay onboard and sunbathe a safe distance from the volcano, but was persuaded to go ashore on the paddle board – because apparently, “we have to have a walk on the beach!”

Heading towards the shore, I stopped paddling for a moment and glanced back at the yacht anchored a couple of hundred metres away. How long would it take to get back if there was a really big eruption? At that moment we both heard a loud rumble and more smoke frothed out from the chocolate coloured top of Stromboli.

On our approach to the island the streams of lava had made the top of the volcano look like a chocolate cake with ganache icing dripping down the sides, or even a “drippy castle” you make with wet sand at the beach.

The flowers and grass on this side of the island, were in contrast to the ash grey slopes we had just sailed past. The little yellow church and tatty white buildings nestled together in defiance of what might be. A whole community live here at the base of this very active volcano – one of the most active in the world apparently. I wondered why they had made a home here with such danger lurking in their backyard.

As we wandered down the main street, there were many derelict buildings, abandoned properties and overgrown gardens, yet there were signs that they had once been cared for. We spotted a number of signs for Tsunami warnings and evacuation routes. In 2002 a Tsunami destroyed some of the village when a violent eruption caused a major landslide. That wasn’t so long ago. I glanced up at the smoking volcano… please behave, at least while we have a drink!

I wasn’t too sorry to head back along the black sand beach, where I collected a few little lava pebbles as a keepsake from Stromboli.

This morning I spotted a black dragon, caught in silhouette on a rocky lighthouse island facing Stromboli. It seemed to be waiting for the real dragon to appear from inside the volcano. As we watched Stromboli and “volcano-land” disappear into the haze, I was quite happy to leave the rumbles and the smoke behind.

Meanwhile, today we are dodging oil tankers and fish farms as we make the crossing to mainland Italy…

Back to the volcano

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I’m in my favourite place again on the sunny side of the boat. The seas are calmer today and beside the gentle slosh of the waves against the sides, there is a gentle throb from the engine, giving the sails a little help to get us round the headland. We’re on our way back to the volcano.

Last year we had a good helping of boat troubles that delayed and slightly derailed our trip at times. This year we set sail with just one issue – the water maker was broken and in need of a part. Thankfully the new part was on its way to a port in Sicily where we hoped to intercept it. Meanwhile, we had to be careful with our water consumption, it wasn’t a game changer. However, with a boat I’ve come to realise that problems seem to come in pairs!

Mount Etna has been in our sights for a few days and it is the first time I’ve sailed beneath a live volcano. We spotted smoke the other night, but no fire thankfully! Our route to collect the water maker part was taking us ever close to Etna and we soon found ourselves anchored below the hill town of Taormina, with the craters of Etna visible through the clouds. Thankfully distant rumbles turned out to be music from the shore, rather than the volcano stirring to life!

As it was a melting hot day, we’d delayed our shopping sortie in the dinghy (tender) till early evening. In any case the Sicilians close up between 3-6pm for siesta. The dinghy’s outboard was being a little tricky, but eventually it was started, however half way to shore it died. And no amount of coxing would persuade it to start. We tried paddling, but a passing speed boat took pity on us and 10 minutes later we were back on board. Supplies must wait!

So, now we had two broken items. The next day after more failed attempts to get the motor into action, which included filtering fuel, removing parts and other “helpful ideas” gleaned from YouTube, we gave up and headed for the marina along the coast where we would pick up our water maker spare parts and hopefully some helpful outboard fixers.

It turned out there’s nothing simple about collecting spares or fixing an outboard, especially when trying to communicate in Italian. Leaving our shipmates to talk through outboard issues with a couple of Italian geezers in their workshop, we strolled through the deserted parts of the town in search of the delivery address for the spare part. Google maps took us to a pair of steel gates with no door bell. We peered through the slats at a deserted boatyard… could google be wrong? There were no signs of an office or anyone moving about. It’s a strange life we now live, resorting to messaging on our phones, rather than calling someone… it seems WhatsApp is easier to translate! Just when we were about to give up, Lo and behold the gates jolted apart and began to creak open. Down the deserted track was a lady waving and speaking Italian! A tired Labrador-cross ambled over and from what I could understand we were being assured he was friendly! Walking back with our box of spares a few minutes later we decided to celebrate with an ice cream, hoping the rear party had faired well too! One problem was half way to being solved… as long as this was the right part!

There were glum looks when we jumped back on board Pura Vida. The engine had gone and so had the dinghy.

“They took it away, I think it’s going to be very expensive,” said the skipper. I looked up at the volcano towering above the town, it seemed to be casting a shadow on our voyage. It had certainly made its presence felt on the dusty streets of Reposto, where grey ash gathered in the corners of the pavements and huge lava boulders lined the beachfront. What can it be like living below a volcano?

That night we wandered Reposto’s scruffy streets and then ate freshly baked pizza on a pebbly beach. We watched a fishing boat arrive back as the sun set and the sky began to turn pink. It’s owner pushed the boat out into the water letting it glide back to join a line of other boats tethered by long ropes onto the shore. This place felt a little sad and forgotten and that night we caught the mood.

Three days later we were further down the coast in Syracuse, when we had the joyous news that the engine had been fixed and we also realised the water maker seemed to be working, so the sweaty work to fit the new pipe had paid off!

All was almost right with the world. However, we wouldn’t be able to collect the engine till after the weekend, so we still needed to row to shore to visit ancient Syracuse.

This proved to be quite amusing as we were the only small boat paddling across the expanse of bay without an engine. Did we look like we were arriving from a far country seeking refuge? Would the customs lookouts speed out to check our credentials? Evidently not, we spent a peaceful day ashore exploring Syracuse’s hidden gems and tasting Sicilian delights until the sun set and it was time for the long paddle back.

Today we are heading back to the dusty streets of “volcano town” where we hope to be reunited with a working outboard engine. From there we will continue our journey towards the renowned straits of Messina, where Sicily meets Italy. I’m hoping our boat problems will be left behind, along with the smoke from Mount Etna.

Update: This morning Etna woke up for real! It may be time to get going?

Bees on board

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We set sail a week ago with just four of us on board … now we are six!

Two fluffy, loving shipmates, who we couldn’t bear to send overboard joined us today.

It feels good to be back on board Pura Vida – a very sleek catamaran – that will be our home for the next few weeks as we meander around the coast of Italy.

The sun was hot when we pulled the anchor up in Preveveza, Greece, last Monday. Our first anchorage was on Antipaxos and later that afternoon we settled in for the night in a turquoise bay off the island of Paxos. The water was fresh, not English fresh, at 19 degrees of course!

We headed to the north of Corfu, after a brief stay below the old town, where we had to meet the agent who would help us “clear out” of Greece officially. It seemed odd as we’d only arrived a couple of days earlier and now we were leaving! Our destination is Italy, possibly ending in Sardinia and there are many miles ahead!

Last year we found ourselves in Corfu in the midst of a parade and got rather trapped. This year it turned out to be the same date and police cars were already gathering to block the roads. We wouldn’t get caught out this time! However, it did mean shopping was limited with many places shut for the festivities. We made do with coffee and croissants while we watched a marching band assemble in the rain. Someone noted that the marching wasn’t up to scratch, but who likes marching in the rain?

We’ve had a mix of weathers en route, but our first little drama was on an island north of Corfu, from where we planned the main hop across to the coast of Italy.

Tired and eager to cook up some supper, the anchor was dropped in a bay, where we could see sand between the rocks. A lot of creaking and dragging sounds over the next few hours made us all wonder if the anchor was on or between one of those rocks.

We watched an orange sun slipping into the sea on the horizon and hoped we were wrong.

The next morning, pulling up the anchor took us an hour instead of five minutes. The captain, who volunteered to go in the water to review the situation, had to sink his pirate hook down to help shift the anchor from between two rocks. Forty five minutes later, after much signalling and repositioning the boat, the anchor eventually came free. The skipper then spent the next hour or so attempting to regain feeling in his arms and legs under a duvet! Cold water swimming isn’t for everyone!

We’ve been testing out our sails in a variety of wind conditions from full on surfing yesterday, with waves flowing onto the boat at the back, to being battered by the waves side on this morning.

That was when the visitors arrived – one bumble bee at first, blown in by a gust. We were so worried he’d be blown away, we helped him crawl into a box for safety. I wasn’t sure he liked it and a few minutes later, his mate arrived and nestled into the cockpit canopy hiding from the wind. I decided they should face the wind together and helped the first bee out onto the canopy near his fellow traveller. Seconds later they were neatly cuddled up together under a strap. Then we were six!

The wind has calmed again now and we thought our pair of bee companions had flown on, but they keep reappearing, so I think they’re here for the long haul!

It’s also time to re-set the sails and look for a safe anchorage or harbour for tonight. Meanwhile the first batch of scones is in the oven, so a little touch of Devon is on the way!

Out of control?

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How do you feel about being driven around by a robot? I’ve got my reservations.

Before we landed back in the UK this week we managed a little catchup with San Fran, where our eyes were opened to the wonders of Ai on the city’s streets. Before the rain and mist descended we managed to grab some rides on the famous cable cars.

These ancient rickety carriages hurtle up and down the San Francisco’s undulating roads, screeching to a halt in unexpected places and ringing their tinkling bells as they squeak and rattle away. It was fun to sit on the outside benches and stare up the steep streets of old American style terraced houses.

The cable cars and the old trams run alongside normal traffic, and seem at odds with what appeared to be futuristic taxis. We looked twice at a white saloon car with a large rotating cylinder on its roof – was it an unmarked police car? As it passed, we were completely shocked to see that there was no one in the driving seat, in fact there was no one in the car at all… but there it was slowing down at a pedestrian crossing before sweeping round the corner.

We stood back on the pavement and took a breath. Is this really happening? Is it safe? Now we’d clocked them, we could see them everywhere, I’d estimate every 10th car was a ‘ghost vehicle’. Later that night, as we dodged the rain and sheltered under a hotel canopy, we watched as one of the ‘ghost cars’ pulled up and a man jumped in the back. It was so weird to watch him drive away with the front seats empty.

On our way to the airport we chatted to our Lyft driver (like Uber, but cheaper) asking what he thought about the ‘ghost cars’. He didn’t feel under threat and thought they were a bit of a gimmick.

“You pay more, to get you there more slowly!”

He asked if we’d taken a ride in one. We shook our heads. Were we too scared?

It makes me wonder how much control I’m prepared to give Ai… is it just because I don’t recognise how much of every day life is being run by computer programs? We have apps for everything from banking to doorbells, so what am I afraid of?

How long before we board a plane or get on a boat without a human pilot or a skipper? Perhaps it’s just a matter of adjusting perspectives, or are there real risks in putting our safety into the hands of a robot? Time will tell.

It takes all sorts

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You think it’s all over… it is now!

Today it was time to say farewell to Queen Anne. She has been our home these past three and a half weeks, so it’s a little sad that this is the last of my Captain’s logs!

We woke up just in time to see us passing under the lights of the Golden Gate Bridge, before falling back to sleep.

I have to confess, I’ve always said I didn’t want to go on a Cruise. I thought it would be too many people, too organised and too claustrophobic. But after a trial trip just over a year ago, to see the northern lights in Norway, on Cunard’s Queen Victoria, I discovered the boat very rarely felt crowded and there was plenty of space to get outside into the fresh air on deck.

With a good number of ‘sea days’ on this trip, we’ve made the most of onboard activities and entertainment. The pools and hot tubs were a good way to meet people, who wouldn’t recognise you later with clothes on! One of them was an American ex-pilot come sports car collector with a fine white moustache, whose wife had died from what he described as “the Chinese virus.” I spotted this smooth talker with various ladies over the weeks and also had to bite my lip as he explained why Donald Trump would put everything right that had gone so wrong in America. I did note that a cruise might be a good way to find a new partner if you were looking for one… although the romance might only last the length of the cruise or less!

You’re never going to hit it off with everyone you meet, but on this trip we’d met some real gems.

There was a retired New York cop, who always sported a jaunty red and white neckerchief, and had the best religious jokes ever. He was always ready with a new one each day, which he cheekily slipped in before the Lord’s Prayer at the regular Christian gatherings. He was sorely missed when he got off at New York.

Happy to accommodate the ex copper’s jokes was a down to earth Greek Orthodox priest who was on board with his mother. He gave us lots to think about as well as passing on the same advice which he gave his parishioners if they were having a hard time: “You get on with your stuff and let the devil get on with his stuff!”

I also developed a bit of a crush on two Aussies, who ran a course onboard looking at memoir writing. Richard Evans, former politician turned author, sported the most outrageous shirts and provided the perfect foil to the banter from his colleague and wife, Dr Julia. I loved their honesty, humour and the simplicity and clarity they bought to the training sessions, which were simply inspirational. No one who took part will forget their mantra that, “we all have a story to share.” Check out

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Finally, we have bid a fond farewell to a beautiful Yorkshire couple, who we’ve shared lots of laughter and stories with over the past few weeks. However, as they will be going right around the world with Queen Anne, they should be well placed to send reports on any developments with the ‘suspected stowaway’…

Meanwhile, San Francisco here we come.

Land’s End and finally whales

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I knew something was happening when I heard the collective gasp from fellow passengers seated around me on the little boat ferrying us to shore. I jumped up, just in time to see a huge grey mound emerge beside us in the water, and then disappear just a quickly. The whales had arrived!

Captain’s Log – Cunard Ship Queen Anne – this is now the 24th day of our voyage…

It’s been an exiting day in Mexico and it’s our first time on what locals describe as “the fun side of Trump’s wall”!

We’re at anchor in a charming location alongside the jagged rocks of Land’s End in the buzzing little port of Cabo San Lucas. It was also our first time to take a “tender” ashore, clambering out of the side of the ship onto a little motor launch. Adding to this small thrill was our first whale sighting when one popped up right beside the boat as we motored from the ship towards the pontoon. Sadly, I didn’t get to look it in the eye, but I did see it’s back slide slowly under the water.

The bay of Carbo San Lucas and the California sea beside it, is fertile ground for hump back whales coming down from the arctic to breed. The captain had told us we are in the midst of whale season. This was great news, at last the long wait was over.

The sighting of a whale’s back at close quarters was a great start to the day and left us scouring the waters for more.

Ashore in Cabo, we dodged a stream of locals offering boat trips and tours. But eventually bartered one down and jumped on with Adrian, who took us to see Land’s End, the line of craggy rocks and archways, that included a tiny window through to the Pacific.

I thought Adrian had got distracted as he sped towards a rock face urging us to be ready for a photo. Suddenly a tiny arched window was visible low down in the water and I understood what he was doing.

Whales weren’t the only wildlife treats that morning as we spotted sea lions, pelicans and some jumping manta rays. Plus the Scooby Doo rock, if you can spot it!

After a coffee at Tequila Beach cafe and a swim in the sea, Adrian returned to drop us back on the quay. There was more marine life fun here as we watched a man filleting a fish and giving the carcass to a sea lion, while a cheeky pelican sneaked behind him and raided his catch of fish.

That evening, as Queen Anne began to up anchor for the last leg of her journey, we hung from the railings, spotting multiple whale water spouts all around us and managing to see some emerge and wave their tales for the departing guests. We spent so long up there, reluctant to leave incase they came closer, but by the time the sun had sunk the strengthening wind left us shivering and in need of long hot showers.

Mexico had delivered the whales in the end, but it’s made me want to see more. Now I’m busy googling the best locations for whale spotting. Maybe this will be the next adventure…

Meanwhile San Francisco beckons.

A rooftop encounter of the enlightening kind

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It turns out ‘The Stowaway’ probably isn’t a stowaway after all. I wasn’t stalking him, but I just happened to end up on the same monastery roof…

Captain’s Log – Cunard Ship Queen Anne – this is now the 22nd day of our voyage…

Our visit to the old capital of Guatemala was to be a ‘non Farmer tour’ trip this time, which took the edge off the stress about getting back to the boat in time – we just had to find our way back to the coach.

It was however called “Antigua on your own” – so the local guide stayed on the bus! We’d heard about the beautiful cobbled streets, but even in trainers they were a little treacherous with huge holes and dips at every turn. On one street the cobbles were even being dug up by a band of workmen, causing further chaos.

The morning heat had begun to ramp up, even at 5,000 feet and at 9am in the morning, so we dodged the guides with their numbered paddle signs and headed for the famous Arch of Santa Catalina. Apparently, it was built to allow the reclusive nuns to cross from the convent to the school without being seen. Through the archway we spotted people on the roof of what looked like a cathedral – that would be a cool place to see the city, we thought.

Ten minutes later we were climbing the steps to the roof of La Merced Church and Monastery, which gave us spectacular views of the city set against a backdrop of the three volcanoes which frame the town. The dark grey mountains were capped with white clouds, that could be mistaken for smoke, but we understood that only one was currently active.

People were posing for shots on the roof with the twin peaks of two volcanoes behind them. One was a man with a rather sunburnt nose, who I recognised immediately. He was looking for someone to take his photo, now was my chance! I stepped in and smiled, taking the camera ( which is one of the oldest digital ones I’ve seen) and getting him into position in front of both the rooftop wall and the volcanoes. I asked if he was enjoying his visit and if he was going right round the world… it was a yes to both these questions, but he was more concerned that the photo was right so we tried again… I wanted to ask his name so that I could google it to satisfy my curiosity, but I chickened out. He trailed off happily to another corner of the roof and we headed up to the next level.

“That was the stowaway,” hissed my travel buddy.

“I know! That’s why I offered to take the photo – to find out more… only it didn’t feel natural to ask his name..”

She nodded and shrugged.

I’d failed! But we both agreed, he couldn’t be a stowaway, he was just a little unusual, but seemed to be having a ball. Maybe we’d never know more… but the cruise isn’t over quite yet.

One mystery sort of ‘parked’, we wandered through the grid of rather weather beaten buildings, where churches and hotels combined ancient ruins with their current accommodation. We managed to find the loveliest rooftop cafe selling coffee and delicious banana and chocolate loaf, which set us up for the journey back down to the port.

As we made our way back, we peeped through doorways and passages to catch glimpses of beautiful plant filled courtyards with fountains and pools, like a mini oasis from the dusty cobbled streets. And the most surprising of these was, wait for it, Starbucks!

The guide had told us we must all call in, and he was right, because it was like no Starbucks I’ve ever been in before. There were huge brightly coloured murals on the walls, and old ceramic tiles on the floor, which blended with the dark wood panels of the counter.

Then just past the counter an archway led into an inner courtyard where comfy wicker chairs and low tables were interspersed with trailing plants and trees and I’m sure there was a trickling fountain somewhere. The only thing to let you know it was Starbucks were the white and green carton mugs and the staff aprons! What I want to know is, why aren’t all Starbucks like that?

Once we’d located coach number 23, which we both thought was white, but turned out to be green (nil points for observation), we were relieved that the heavy traffic wasn’t our problem, because we knew the ship would wait for one of their own coaches.

In the end, there were just a few minutes to spare when we got back on board… next stop Mexico.

Stowaways and parrots

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Ssh! I think we’ve spotted a stowaway!

He was fast asleep on a corner wearing the same scruffy jumper and ripped trousers that we’d spotted him in a day or two earlier….

Captain’s Log – Cunard Ship Queen Anne – this is now the 20th day of our voyage…

Today is a “sea day” as we relax on board after time ashore ( as if we’re not always relaxing on board.. No ropes to tidy or passage plans to check, not even any meals to prepare! What can you do except read, write and sunbathe?)

Back to stowaway suspicions – after several sightings in lifts and dining areas, one of us was convinced this person was not an official guest.

“Perhaps he’s sleeping rough in the laundry room and no one knows…”

This seemed a bit unlikely to me, I was more convinced he was a bit of an eccentric kicking against the ship’s dress code – just because he could!

On our entry to the Panama Canal we were up early to watch the ship make her first passage through the canal. As we squeezed in at the rail overlooking the bow and the ship was guided into the first lock with inches to spare, we glanced down at those gathered on the viewing deck below… There he was again! The Stowaway, as bold as brass, taking prime position on the bow and attempting to get help with a selfie on his camera. Maybe he wasn’t a stowaway.

Another emerging theory, floated over captain’s cocktails later, was that he actually owns the company and was an “undercover boss” seeing if he would be challenged by his crew! Had any of them spotted him, I wondered.

It took us all day to pass through the Panama Canal, an amazing feat of engineering, which several nations had taken part in at various stages. After the first locks, the ship emerged into a huge lake which was a surprise. Here we scoured the muddy jungle-like banks for crocodiles or alligators… not a sausage!

Although we hadn’t helped the process, there was a sense of achievement as Queen Anne headed out of the final locks and into the Pacific… we’d done it!

Next stop was Colombia, where we tried to recruit a ship’s parrot.

The port terminal of Cartagena was Colombia’s version of Ikea… not selling flat pack furniture, but frustratingly designed so that you had to zig through the whole maze of shops, stalls and perching parrots, peacocks in trees, flamingos behind fences and swinging monkeys, before you got to the exit. To be fair there was plenty of greenery and nice shaded paths to make up for it and the parrots were friendly.

Cartagena has its own taxi cartel and so there were no cheap rides into the old city. “Farmer tours” took off again and we skirted the ancient walls beside the sea, before wandering the narrow streets filled with coffee shops… but what coffee! We drank ours upstairs at Cafe Epoca, where a spiral staircase without rails led us to the dark wood interior, rich with the aroma of great coffee.

My favourite part of the city was the flag lined streets of Getsemani – formerly a poor area, now cool and trendy, with huge murals on every corner and brightly painted buildings. There were two nice surprises here, one was the price of Mojitos, where they offered BOGOFs, and while sipping drinks in the shade of a street cafe, we were serenaded by a ‘pop up’ group of rapping boys, who called me Barbie! (I wasn’t even wearing anything pink!)

When we clambered back on board, just before the clock struck 1pm, I wondered if the Stowaway had made it back in time… or perhaps he had not risked getting off!

We found out more at our next stop in Guatemala…

Good morning America!

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Captain’s Log – Cunard Ship Queen Anne – this is now the 19th day of our voyage…

Today we’ve docked in Guatemala – a country I’ve only ever viewed on a map until now. It’s an early start for our shore adventure, but the sun is shining and it’s a balmy 23 degrees at 7am!

At least we’re here on time, which is an improvement on New York (our first port of call). Sadly the storm had delayed us and we were 24 hours late which cut down time in the Big Apple by a day. When we finally glided under the brightly lit Verrazano Narrows Bridge and waved to a twinkling Statue of Liberty, dawn was just breaking and the ship breathed a sigh of relief. There is something magical about seeing the lights of Manhattan island glittering against a lightening sky.

Everyone seemed happy to leap ashore and our whirlwind visit included the 9/11 churches of Trinity Wall Street and St Paul’s. The former boasted exemplary toilets (akka restrooms) AND they were free, a church guide informed us! The World Trade Centre memorial remained as moving as the last time we visited – a silence surrounding the site that swallowed all our words.

After a little shopping (you’re in New York – so you have to!) we walked across the Brooklyn Bridge and enjoyed meandering through Dumbo. It’s not an elephant, just a rather cool area of Brooklyn. Nestled beneath the intersection of the Brooklyn and Manhattan bridges, it’s filled with quirky shops, cafes and restaurants in converted warehouses and historic houses, some sheltering beneath the atmospheric arches of the bridges.

Misty rain chased us back to the ship and so we hopped on the ferry, now awash with cruise guests of all shapes, sizes and nationalities – slightly conspicuous with their Cunard umbrellas!

Back on board afternoon tea was being served, just in case we needed to top up on calories again.

Our sorties ashore have gone well so far. By that I mean we haven’t missed the boat! This is always a risk on ‘Farmer do it yourself tours’ which turn out to be a lot cheaper than Cunard run ones. The only issue is – if we’re delayed the boat is not waiting for us!

Miami was our next stop and at last the sun decided to shine, so we headed to South Beach for a swim (this time I managed to keep my kit on in the waves!) There was time to phone home and enjoy a mojito on Ocean Drive before catching a cab back to the ship. Our taxi ride back turned out to be a guided tour in itself, as our local cabby explained everything we needed to know about Florida from its history and buildings to Donald Trump and the pandemic. He told us Floridians are fiercely independent and see themselves almost as their own country – hence the number of motorcyclists without helmets. (Let the Reader understand!)

As we waved goodbye to Miami, Donald Trump had moved into the driving seat in the USA and we were headed towards his latest “project” currently called the Panama Canal!

More on Central America tomorrow!

PS Still no whales!

Waiting for whales

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I’ve been waiting for whales but all I’ve spotted are flying fish. According to Captain Inga this part of the Pacific is rich in wildlife. But the sun is slowly slipping into the sea, so the chance of spotting whales today is sinking with it.

Captain’s Log – Cunard Ship Queen Anne – this is now the 18th day of our voyage…

Although we’re not crossing galaxies, we’ve made it over the Atlantic – just – and I’ve finally got to blogging again.

The trouble with going on a cruise with a sailor is you get to see the wind and weather apps, which seem to tell a slightly different story to announcements from the bridge. I knew we were trying to avoid a big Atlantic storm, but it turns out you can run but you can’t hide!

As the wind and waves gathered it was in sharp contrast to our gentle departure from Southampton. When I say ‘gentle’, for us ‘last minute’ passengers, it was always going to be a frantic dash from Devon. It took us several days to believe we were actually on board.

We feel very privileged to be joining Queen Anne on her maiden transatlantic voyage, as she sets out on her first world cruise. We’re not going all the way, but just enjoying the “ride” until San Francisco.

Back in the Atlantic the waves were getting higher and objects started sliding around our cabin. There was quite a lot of movement on board and it was becoming tricky to walk in a straight line to fetch a cup of tea. The swimming pools were awash with their own waves and it really was a bit like swimming in the waves while crossing the Atlantic, but with much warmer water!

One afternoon we’d been trying to judge the heights of waves from the safety of the restaurant – apparently they were 20 foot rollers. The next moment we heard a loud bang and something large seemed to be clattering along the glass roof above. Thankfully it wasn’t our job to risk life and limb scrambling after it as this was someone else’s boat! We later heard balcony chairs and dividers had been swept away in the storm, but thankfully no passengers!

As I gaze across a glassy Pacific Ocean that stormy weather feels a long time ago… and the whales are still in hiding.