A Three Brother Tour

I’m a starter, not a finisher.  Perhaps this is why a full seven weeks after we returned home, I still haven’t wrapped up this blog.  So with only two posts left to go and seven weeks after the fact, we’re determined to honour this amazing adventure by fully completing it.  So bear with us as we limp to the finish line.

The Third Brother

So far, you’ve met my youngest brother, Chris, who lives with his wife Debbie in Sydney and my oldest brother, Larry, who lives in San Francisco with his wife, Ilana.  Well, there is a third brother and we are not expecting to see him on this trip at all till Ralph’s cell phone rings in the San Francisco airport.  It is Tim and he knows we’re flying to Georgia, so he and his wife, Diana, have decided to hop in their car and drive from their home in Chapel Hill, North Carolina to join us on our last day in Savannah.

We are thrilled!  While it is wonderful to have such strategically placed brothers, it is also very rare to get to see them all in the same year.  We get together as a family only for major family events like family weddings or significant parent birthdays and pulling that off is usually thousands of dollars in flights and major coordination.  Being able to spend quality one on one time with each of the three of them is a rare treat.

Cathy, Matt, Jones, Diana and Tim on River Street in Savannah

Rendezvous in Savannah

It is Wednesday afternoon, April 4^th and Ralph and I know the jig is up.  Three months of amazing experiences are about to come to an end.  Tomorrow Matt and Jones will drive us to the Savannah Airport for our flight home.  I am grateful that Tim and Diana are going to meet us for this last day because it gives us one more thing to look forward to as the trip comes to an end.

Matt, Cathy, Ralph, Tim and Diana on the Savannah riverfront

Matt, Jones, Ralph and I wander down to Savannah’s famous river front and settle into a Greek Taverna for lunch while we wait for Tim and Diana to arrive.  After about 30 minutes, I see my tall, 51-year-old brother and his tiny wife wander through the front door of the restaurant.  Tim is sporting his signature silly grin and my mind instantly reaches back to the 17-year-old tall, lanky and awkward red-head who could make us laugh by simply raising one eyebrow.

Matt, Tim, Cathy, Jones and Diana on one of the stairs up from the waterfront

Tim is what we call in our leadership development work, a space shifter.  Often using humour as their weapon of choice, space shifters have a gift for comic timing.  Although Tim is extremely introverted, this man of few words can create side-splitting laughter with a simple change in facial expression. True to form, he gives me a look and I am already laughing before he says a word.

We stroll around the River Front district stopping in at the local market and the famous historic Savannah Cotton Exchange before catching a bus tour that Ralph and I scoped out the day before.

Matt, Jones, Diana, Tim, Cathy and Ralph in front of the Savannah tour trolley

A Tour of Historic Savannah

This is our third trip to Savannah and it remains one of America’s most charming and interesting cities.   Savannah’s historic and Victorian historic districts have been impeccably preserved and represent one of the largest National Historic Landmark Districts in the United States.

One of the squares in the Savannah Historic District

My impressions of Savannah are coloured somewhat by the movie classic “Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil”.  Savannah is teeming with character and all that is intriguing about the south – a palpable connection to history, natural beauty and famous southern charm with its undercurrents of  eccentricity and intrigue.  It practically screams, things aren’t quite what they seem.

Sunlight filters through the trees of another square

Our bus tour takes us around the historic district’s 22 squares, a network of adjoining squares of parks and gardens around which beautiful 17^th and 18^th century historic homes and churches are situated.

We travel past the bench where Tom Hanks as the unforgettable Forest Gump said “Life is like a box of chocolates”.  We pass stately mansions like the Mercer-Williams House, the former home of Jim Williams, the controversial figure upon which the book and movie “Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil” is based; the Owens-Thomas House and the birthplace of Juliette Gordon Low, the founder of the Girl Guide movement.

Tim, Diana, Matt and Jones in the tour trolley

It is drizzling as our bus driver / tour guide winds around the squares, past the stately homes, cathedrals and museums.  The tour is colourful with just the right mixture of historical facts and local colour to keep things interesting.  The droplets on the windows, however, make it difficult to do the city justice with our camera.

A pirate points his gun at our tour bus in front of the Old Pirate House Restaurant

After about 90 minutes, the tour is over and we are let off on the River Front – the center of Savannah’s restaurants, bars and nightlife. We stop in at Wet Willies, a riverfront establishment that serves alcohol like ice cream stands serve ice cream.  Because you can carry drinks onto the street, Wet Willies has a take out area which features huge vats serving up premixed mojitos, margueritas, daiquiris and more.  We choose to sit and have our drinks – mostly beer – the old fashioned way before wandering down the street to Boar’s Head Grill and Tavern for our last non-airport meal of our holidays.

The full group having drinks at Wet Willies

True to form, Tim keeps us in stitches through the meal recounting stories of the horrors of babysitting Matt and his siblings when they were all under the age of five.  While he pretends that the stories are about how horrible they were as children, they are, in reality, about his extreme incompetence as a babysitter.  The antics have us doubled over and we all drink to our gratitude that they survived to adulthood.

Dinner at the Boars Head Grill on the Savannah riverfront

It is a great evening, making it even tougher to say good-bye as Ralph and I know we are facing the long journey north and back to reality in the morning.

Welcome to the Masters

That’s how we are greeted as we enter the front gates for the Tuesday Practice Round on April 3rd.  Immediately, I have the spine tingling sensation that I am stepping into history.  My expectations for the golf course are high and still, it exceeds them.  Augusta National is a beautiful, gracious southern belle.  I’d be proud to have her fairways grace my living room floor and her greens are immaculate enough to eat on.  And we are not seeing her at her best, because all the azaleas and magnolia blooms have finished.

Note to our readers:  Our apologies for the tardiness of this post and the final two to come shortly.  Our primary writer was assaulted by a wall of work when she returned home and couldn’t get to it until now. 

What is clear to me is that Augusta National is a place for boys.  In the same way a high-class brothel exudes femininity, but is there solely for the pleasure of men, so is Augusta National.  Right down to its 78 year history of denying membership to women.  This became particularly embarrassing this year when Virginia Rometty, the newly appointed CEO of IBM, became the first CEO in the history of IBM’s association with the event not to be offered a membership at the club.   Despite a groundswell of pressure, the ol’ boys circled the wagons and stood their ground – Virginia, there is no Santa Clause in Augusta.  As I walk around, I wonder – “Will I live long enough to ever get a chance to play Augusta National?”  Something to add to the bucket list.

There are three things you will see men do at Augusta National that you will not see them do anywhere else in the world…

1)      Complain bitterly that the azaleas and magnolias are no longer in bloom.

2)      Shop like women in Wal-Mart  on Black Friday – elbowing each other for everything in sight, lining up for everything from hats to golf shirts to divot repair tools.  My niece, Jones, even overheard one guy grilling a clerk, “Can you guarantee me that if I buy this watch, nobody else will have one unless they’ve attended this event!” and;

3)      Line up for the bathroom.  The fact that I did not have to line up once to go to the restroom, whereas Ralph did so several times, will give you a sense of the ratio of males to females at this event.

And if you are a guy, what’s not to love.  Here you can see your favourite golf hero hit 300+ yard drives and flip 200-yard iron shots up to within inches of the hole (or in the hole in some cases).  You can walk freely anywhere with a $3 beer in one hand and a $1.50 ham and cheese sandwich in the other (no kidding, the cheapest food and drinks of any sporting event anywhere).  And you can walk the same hallowed ground as golfing legends like Bobby Jones, Ben Hogan, Arnold Palmer, Jack Nicklaus and Gary Player.  You can see grown men giggling and squealing like little girls everywhere.  I’ve never seen that many men, that happy, in one place.

The Game Plan

We arrive at 8:15 a.m. with a game plan of sorts.  We’ll find out where our favourite players are playing and watch them on one of the front nine holes, then move to Amen Corner (holes 11, 12 and 13), jump to 16 for a great view of one of the par 3’s, check out Eisenhower’s Tree on 17, stroll up 18 and back to the practice area to snag some autographs.  We figure this will be a good day and we are right.

Our first stop is the information board inside the front gate to see who is on the course already.  Tiger is in the first group which teed off at 8:00 and bonus, Phil Mickelson is playing a round with Mike Weir, right behind him.   We calculate that they are probably on the fourth hole by now and we decide to jump a few holes ahead of them and get a good spot.  On the way, we get a close up view of Rickie Fowler, Webb Simpson and Bubba Watson on #4.  Of course, we don’t realize at the time that we are watching the future 2012 Masters Champion (Bubba Watson).

We manage to stake out a great spot at the ropes beside the sixth green and we only have to wait about 30 minutes before the first ball comes out of nowhere and lands within 10 feet of where we are standing.  AND, OMG, it’s Tiger’s ball!  Ralph can barely contain himself and has his camera poised and ready.

A few minutes later, we see them – Tiger Woods, Fred Couples and Sean O’Hair.  Embarrassingly, Ralph suddenly goes all Paparazzi on me and begins snapping like crazy, irritating everybody around him.  After shooting so many stills of Tiger as he approached his ball that he could have made a full motion picture, I finally tug on his arm and say, “I think we have enough shots of Tiger now.”   Despite the incessant sound of Ralph’s camera, Tiger is focused and intense and looking good on Sooo many levels.

Fred Couples, another of my all time favourite players, is the antithesis of intense.  His style is such a contrast to Tiger’s, it makes us chuckle.  Fred gives new meaning to the word loose.  He’s got his laid back little swagger going, he’s chatting up the other players, he’s laughing and his swing is so smooth and effortless, it’s hard to believe the ball goes anywhere.

Next up – Phil Mickelson, Mike Weir, Brendan Steele and Kyle Stanley.  Phil is also looking great and I can tell he’s going to do well on the weekend.  He’s walking around like he owns the place.  After watching him for three or four holes, I notice that he never approaches a new tee with his playing partners.  Instead, he either hangs back to arrive on the tee after they do, or he comes to the tee well ahead of them.  This enables him to make an entrance and enjoy the applause.  It’s quite obvious and shameless, really.  But the crowd loves it.

As much as we can tell, Phil is going to do well on the weekend, and we can already see that Mike is not.  His shots are erratic, particularly his drives.  He and Phil are playing a match against Brendan Steele and Kyle Stanley.  The stakes are a pink lemonade at the clubhouse.  Mike and Phil eventually win.

Hole # 16 “Redbud”

The best view and the most fun is the 16^th hole.  We are in the grand stand with a bird’s eye view of the 170 yard Par 3, which is nothing but tee, green and water.  I am feeling quite content with my beer and a cheese and pimento sandwich on white bread (It’s supposed to be a Masters’ classic.  I wouldn’t recommend it).  After hitting shots off the tee, it is tradition to take a second shot in front of the long pond and skip your ball across the water and onto the green.  The first pair we see try it are Miguel Angel Jimenez and two-time Masters Champion Jose Maria Olazabal.  Jimenez takes his shot with his signature cigar in his mouth and skips it effortlessly across the water and onto the green.  Olazabal struggles to get his across and Jimenez, hams it up by pretending to give him a lesson.

I am amazed that almost all of the players can do this.  One guy’s ball glides along the water’s surface as if it is a green and just when you think it is going to make it, it plugs into the bank.  Some skip it just once, others skip it several times, but almost all of them get it on the green.  The day before Martin Khyber, skipped his shot across the water and into the hole for a hole in one.  The players are egging each other on, whipping up the crowd and just having a great time.

The Blow Off

We are having a glorious time, until… Ralph’s embarrassing moment with Mike Weir.  We have finished watching the golf and are now on the hunt for autographs.  We are not allowed to ask for autographs on the course, just in the practice area.  Our mission is to get Jones an autograph from Phil Mickelson, but as we approach the practice area, we see Mike Weir walking inside the ropes toward the practice range.  Again, Ralph gets caught up in the excitement and yells (just a little too loudly) – hey Mike, how about a Canadian autograph!

There is general coughing, looking at the ground and feet shuffling among the rather subdued crowd and Mike, startled, looks at Ralph and says “Sorry sir, we’re not allowed to sign autographs here, just on the other side.”  Ralph looks at him with that deer in the headlights look and says, “Oh.”   Jones can’t resist.  She comes up to us and says, “Wow, did you see that? Blown off by Mike Weir, how cool is that!”

In the end, despite our best efforts, the only autograph Jones gets is from Bo Van Pelt.  Jones give him a ball to sign, because she doesn’t think he’s “flag worthy” and she is still hoping to get Phil to sign her Masters flag.  At first, she is a little bummed that all she has to show for her day at the Masters is a “Bo Ball”, but after he shot 64 on Sunday, she feels better.  “Go Bo!!”

Rickie Fowler on # 3 green

Tiger Woods on # 6 green

Fred Couples waits near the pin on # 6

Fred Couples with his long putter on # 6 green

Tiger Woods leaves # 6 green

Phil Mickelson on # 6 green

Mike Weir prepares to putt on # 6

Mike Weir leaves the green on # 6

Bubba Watson (the eventual winner), Rickie Fowler and Web Simpson walk down # 6 fairway

Matt and Jones at Augusta National

Cathy and Ralph at Augusta National

Miguel Jimenez with his cigar on # 12 tee

Bo Van Pelt and Charles Howell III are reflected in Rae’s Creek as they approach # 12 green

Couples, Snedeker and O’Hair cross the Hogan Bridge to # 12 green

Weir, Mickelson, Stanley and Steele cross the Hogan Bridge to # 12 green

Mickelson, Weir, Stanley and Steele are reflected in Rae’s Creek as they approach # 12 green

Miguel Jimenez and Jose Marie Olazabal prepare for their skip shots on # 16

Fred Couples and two cadies watch the skip shots of the group ahead on # 16

Phil Mickelson his his skip shot over the water on # 16

Mike Weir prepares for his skip shot over the water on # 16

Cathy and Matt on the 17th fairway with the Eisenhower Tree in the background

Phil Mickelson watches his approach shot on the 18th fairway

Miguel Jiménez on the practice range

Mike Weir on the practice range

Tiger Woods watches a practice chip on # 6

Phil Mickelson and his caddy “Bones” MacKay

Welcome to Augusta, Home of the Masters

Welcome sign at the Savannah-Hilton Head Airport

Sunday, April 1 is a travel day on our way to the last stop on the Over-Under Tour – Augusta, Georgia, home of the Masters and all things golf.  Our trip to Georgia is at the invitation of my nephew, Matt and his wife, Jones.  Matt entered a ticket lottery for the Masters and won four tickets to the Tuesday practice round.    We were thrilled when we got their invitation to join them and since it lined up perfectly with the end of our trip, we decided that it was worth the detour.

Southbridge course with some of the houses in the background

We arrive at the Savannah airport shortly after 11:00 p.m. and because we have a 7:20 a.m. tee time booked for the next morning, we’re grateful that we’ve booked a hotel near the airport.  Matt has booked us at the Southbridge Golf Course in Savannah. It’s a Rees Jones designed course carved through beautiful Georgia pines and oaks.  We realize that we golfed here on our last vacation to Georgia a few years before with golfing buddies the Sifton’s, MacDonald’s and Glenen’s.  We are reminded, as we drive up, that we had all liked it so much that we booked a second round there.

Matt and Cathy in the warm Georgia sunshine on the Southbridge Golf Course

It’s a gentle and picturesque course in excellent condition, nestled in a quiet residential community of beautiful bungalows.  I remember thinking that this would be a great place to spend the winter and work on my novel.   On this gorgeous Monday morning, we have the course almost to ourselves.  The temperature is perfect, the greens and fairways are in mint condition and the company is great – one of those rounds that makes you feel grateful to be alive.  Scores at the end of the round – Ralph 97, Matt 107, Cathy 108.

Cathy and Ralph on the Southbridge Golf Course

First impressions of Augusta

Ralph and I did not have high expectations for Augusta after chatting with a friend of Larry’s who described it as a dump.  While I feel the judgment was unduly harsh, it does seem there are really two Augusta’s – the one inside the rarefied, genteel southern atmosphere of Augusta National and the one on the streets surrounding it.  It is clear that this community has had its share of economic woes and the Masters is not only a PGA major tournament; it is Augusta’s major annual event.  Augusta is all about golf.  If you don’t care about golf, I wouldn’t recommend it.  If you do care about golf, there is no place like it.

Cathy Prepares to tee off on the Southbridge Golf Course

We arrive about 4:00 p.m. after a two and a half hour drive from Savannah and decide to take a wee nap before dinner.  In perusing the local paper, which is, no kidding, all about golf and nothing but golf, we learn that we have arrived just in time for the Mayor’s reception in honour of golf legend, Tom Watson. The event is being held on the Augusta Common and in addition to the guest of honour, who I am interested in seeing, the event will feature free food samples from 40 local restaurants, cheap beer and has an entrance fee of $1.00 per person.  Sign us up!

Tom Watson addresses the crowd at the Mayors Reception in Augusta on Monday night, April 2

While the line up is daunting, it moves quickly and once we are inside the Common, it is pretty easy to move around.  The food is actually pretty awful, mostly fast food chains (in fairness, though, there are many booths we don’t get to because of the long lines), but the beer is good and I am pretty thrilled to see Tom Watson live as I have always been a big fan.

Matt, Cathy and Ralph beside the Savannah River in Augusta, Georgia

After the Mayor’s reception, we still have a few hours of daylight left, so the four of us take a stroll along the River Walk.  It is a pretty walking path along the Savannah River, which extends all the way inland from Savannah to Augusta, and it overlooks an impressive row of stately mansions on the other side.  I figure this is where all the members of Augusta National must live.

At one point, Matt asks – “What’s our strategy for the practice round tomorrow?”  That is about the point we realized we don’t really have one.  So we decide we have three goals – see as much of the course as we can – especially AMEN corner; see as many of our favourite players as we can and support Jones to get an autograph from Phil Mickelson and Lee Westwood.  Beyond that, we don’t have a clue.  I decide to get on-line to see if I can get some tips from previous attendees.  Stay tuned for our day inside the hallowed gates of Augusta National.

Night Life – Final Days in San Francisco

On Friday morning, March 30, we reluctantly leave our idyllic B & B in Mendocino and head south to the Sonoma Valley to escape the rain.  As my stomach is still not able to handle wine tasting and the others aren’t really in the mood for it, I suggest we try Olive Oil tasting instead as I know Ilana is an olive oil aficionado and I am interested in learning the difference between a good olive oil and a bad one.  We stop in Kenwood in the Sonoma Valley, at Figone’s.  I expect to find the oil offered with pieces of bread for dipping as we had found it in the Hunter Valley, but instead, this oil is poured into little plastic cups and we are to sip it straight.  I’m a little skeptical about this and not really relishing the experience of drinking olive oil.  The friendly owner encourages us to take a small sip then suck some air to the back of our throats before swallowing.  To my surprise, the oil is actually very tasty.  We try some pure extra virgin olive oil and a number of flavoured oils including basil, lime, lemon and chili.  When we’ve tasted all the oils, he moves us to the balsamic vinegars.  This is the real surprise – instead of the somewhat harsh, bitter, make you cough, balsamics that I pick up at my neighbourhood Superstore, these are like tasting ports.  They are sweet and easy on the palate and throat.

We make our purchases and head back to Walnut Creek for an early dinner and to spend some time with my niece Aviva and my nephew, Matt and his new wife, Jones, before heading out on our own for an evening in downtown San Francisco.

A Night at Lefty O’Doul’s

For eight years and over many trips to San Francisco, I’ve been intending to get to Lefty O’Doul’s to see Frank O’Connor perform (husband of my friend Carrie).  He has been playing in this downtown Irish Pub for eleven years and is a local favourite.  Frank sings and plays the piano and because he is from Ireland, I somehow expect that he will be playing the traditional Irish and Celtic music I am used to and because I always hear it played on guitar and fiddle, I am curious about how it will work on solo piano.

Carrie joins Frank for a rendition of "California Dreaming" at Lefty O'Dool's

To our surprise, Irish music is a small part of his extensive and eclectic repertoire. As Carrie puts it – “Frank is a walking juke box”.   By the time we get there, the area around the piano is already packed with attentive fans and we sit off to the side to watch the show.  He is a true showman – charming, funny and thoroughly engaging – with a great voice.  He creates a very intimate and fun atmosphere playfully interacting with the clientele in as wide a radius of the piano as he can see.  As the night wears on, the crowd is singing, dancing, clapping and getting quite inebriated.

We are completely caught up in the fun, singing along, reminiscing with Carrie and chatting to the couple from Ireland beside us.  The evening goes by really quickly and Carrie offers to drive us home so we don’t have to leave early to catch the BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit).  We hang out till about 12:30 because we know that Carrie has a very long drive home all the way to Petaluma.  As we get up to leave, Frank shouts: “Everybody, say goodnight now to Ralph and Cathy from Nova Scotia.  They are going home to have wild passionate SEX!” Fifty or so people turn to see us and we wave as they raise their glasses to us and say goodnight.

Home at Last

April 6, 2012.  This is a quick post to let you all know that we arrived safely at Halifax International Airport at 11:15 p.m. yesterday, April 5 (Thursday)

Cathy and Ralph back at the homestead in Dartmouth, Nova Scotia, Canada

We still have a few adventures to share with you, including a couple of fun and entertaining evenings in San Francisco, and of course, our once in a lifetime trip to Augusta National for a practice round at the Masters.  We’ll post these adventures over the next few days before we wrap up our amazing adventure and this blog.

Bev and Jim display some of their gifts at a family dinner on Friday

We look forward to reconnecting with all of our friends and family in Halifax very soon.  In the meantime, the adventure was an amazing one right up to and including our very last evening and a surprise reunion in Savannah.  Stay tuned!

Northern California

The four and a half hour flight from Honolulu to San Francisco seems short to us at this point.  We arrive in San Francisco at about 3 p.m. and get our first blast of cool northern air – it is about 8 degrees.  This is when I come to the realization that we are here for seven days and my suitcase full of shorts and sleeveless t-shirts is not going to cut it.

When we get to Larry’s, we are treated to a home cooked meal of Chicken Marbella, three kinds of roasted potatoes, roasted asparagus, salad and delicious home-made focaccia bread.  Ilana says that the only reason I write so much about the food at their place is because we don’t do anything exciting here but eat.  While this is not true, she still offers to take us into San Francisco to do something ‘blog worthy’ on Tuesday.  Due to my personal lack of warm clothing and the fact that we will be touring on Wednesday, we decide to go shopping in Walnut Creek instead.

Brewery Gulch Inn (See the gallery at the end for all pictures)

On Wednesday morning, Larry, Ilana, Ralph and I head north for a couple of days to Mendocino, land of coastal waters and red wood forests.  The weather forecast is iffy, but the coastal area is in some ways more beautiful in inclement weather when the waves raise their crinolines to the rocks and the huge red woods create a dark verdant tunnel to drive through.

The drive north twists along sea-side cliffs and red wood forest – so much so, in fact, both Ralph and me start to feel a bit queasy and have to ask Larry to drive more slowly around the turns.  After about three and a half hours, we finally arrive at Brewery Gulch Inn that Ilana has chosen for our excursion.  Here is an excerpt from their guest guide about the history…

“Logging in Mendocino in the 1800’s depended on the Big River for transporting giant redwood trees to the mill.  As these trees were swiftly floated downstream, some of the grandest trunks became submerged in the river’s murky depths due to their tremendous weight.  There they remained for more than a century…”  In the early 1990s, during construction on a nearby bridge, they were found deeply settled in the silt and perfectly preserved, some of them with a diameter of 16 feet.  The wood was salvaged and used in the construction of Brewery Gulch Inn.

I love this place.  They have thought of everything here.  Included in the cost of the room is a large hot breakfast and what they describe as a ‘light dinner buffet’ using locally grown organic produce and locally produced wine and beer.  Our light buffet the first night consisted of roast pork with fresh mushrooms, saffron rice, hot and cold vegetarian dishes and crème caramel for dessert.

Our adjoining rooms are beautifully appointed, each with a gas fireplace, comfortable leather reading chairs and a view of Smuggler’s Cove.  It’s the little touches that impress me – the soft throw blankets on the reading chairs for wrapping around you on cold evenings, the cozy bath robes, the ginger body wash, the book of poetry and meditation on the side table and the yoga cards on the desk.  This is northern California, the heart of woo-woo country, after all.

The spacious common area is dotted with wooden framed leather reading chairs surrounding a large rustic looking two-sided metal fireplace that sits under a big sky light in the center of the room.  The floor to ceiling windows and doors open to an outdoor sitting room complete with rattan cushioned chairs and sofas and a perfect view of Smugglers’ Cove.  Several bird-feeders attract a range of species to the deck.

Russian Gulch State Park

We have come here primarily for the hiking, but we know that the forecast is calling for rain, so we decide to take advantage of the clear skies while we have them.  Russian Gulch State Park is about two miles up the road.  We decide to take the Fern trail which is approximately six kilometers in and back.  The trail winds along a narrow river into a lush redwood forest.

The only thing that interferes with my enjoyment of this idyllic wilderness is the warning at the crossroads leading into the Fern Trail that mountain lions, although rarely seen, are dangerous and unpredictable.  As there is very little helpful information on what to do if you encounter a mountain lion, I think I would rather have been surprised.

The hike is just the right level of challenge for the day – a few tricky inclines to get our heart-rates up, some narrow steps and a number of fallen red woods to either climb over or duck under.  I am struck by what seem to be an infinite number of shades of green.  About an hour in, we are rewarded with a rushing waterfall.  It had been raining, so the fall is roaring and foaming over the rocks and lifting a gentle mist to our faces.

Mendocino

The next morning it is raining, as predicted.  After a big breakfast of eggs Benedict and omelets, we decide to go to the Mendocino Coast Botanical Gardens.  It is clear from the plant varieties and foliage that we have left the tropics and are closer to home.  The plants look familiar except that the rhododendrons and magnolias are in full bloom in March and there are some varieties, including a large garden of succulents that we can’t grow at home.  On this wet and windy day, with the sound of ocean crashing against the rocks, the slight chill in the air and the familiar plants, shrubs and trees, I am reminded of the south shore of Nova Scotia and feel strangely at home and at peace here.

We stop in the little town of Mendocino on the way back.  Larry quips that bucolic towns like this are either nestled or perched.  We agree that Mendocino is definitely perched, sitting atop the Mendocino Peninsula on cliffs overlooking the Pacific.  It is raining hard now, so we decide to forego the many little shops and galleries and stop into the Mendocino Hotel for soup and a sandwich.  After lunch, it is too wet to hike, so we head back to our cozy Inn to sit by the fireplace and read.  This is heaven.

The Pacific coastline at Navaro Point, a few miles south of Mendocino

The Brewery Gulch Inn looking up from the ocean

The back side of the Brewery Gulch Inn at dusk

View from the deck at the Brewery Gulch Inn

Common Room with fireplace in the Brewery Gulch Inn

Common Room looking out to the ocean at Brewery Gulch Inn

The water rushing down through Russian Gulch

Ilana, Cathy and Larry hiking in the Russian Gulch

The waterfall in Russian Gulch

Another view of the waterfall in Russian Gulch

The Pacific coast near Mendocino

Waves crashing on the Pacific coast near Mendocino

The Pacific Coast at the Mendocino Coast Botanical Gardens

More of the coast at the Mendocino Coast Botanical Gardens

Cathy, Larry and Ilana overlooking the coast at the Mendocino Coast Botanical Gardens

The rugged coast near Mendocino

The California spring blossoms in the Mendocino Coast Botanical Gardens

A Seagull perches on a rock overlooking the rugged coast

A Day at the Beach

After three full days of getting up early, touring and shopping, we decide our last day should include a good sleep-in, some exercise and some time on the beach. For all of you chronologically concerned readers, this was Sunday, March 25.

Diamond Head crater from Waikiki Beach

Hiking at Diamond Head

We can’t visit Hawaii without a visit to a volcano, so we choose Diamond Head, a huge volcanic crater just a few kilometers outside of Waikiki.  The hike is a 1.3 km, 171 meter climb from the crater floor to its peak.  For some reason, I have the notion that we are climbing the crater wall to be able to see into the crater.  It isn’t until I am at the summit that I realize that we have been climbing the crater from the inside.

Cathy at the Diamond Head State Monument, marking the start of the trail up to the peak

Actually, we had entered the crater from a tunnel through its wall. We had even joked as we passed under it, that the wall of the tunnel looked like some kind of Disney construction.  In fact, what I didn’t quite appreciate is that we were passing through volcanic rock.

Part of the trail up the inside of the crater to the peak

The hike itself is challenging, not for its length, but for the climb.  It consists of dirt trail, switching back and forth along the crater wall, followed by 74 concrete steps straight up, followed by a 225-foot very narrow uphill tunnel, followed by a choice between a straight set of 52 more stairs to another tunnel or a slightly longer route including a spiral staircase along the outside of the crater.  (We choose the latter) Both paths lead to the summit where you are rewarded with a magnificent 360-degree view of Waikiki, Honolulu and the Pacific.

View up to the north coast from the peak of Diamond Head. The round crater walls and the crater floor dominate the foreground.

You get your photos and then it is another 1.3 km of quad-strengthening descent.  We are both huffing, but we make the trek with only one stop, which we make to take a side path for some photos, and very little problem.  Ralph’s lungs and knees performed admirably and despite the fact that I have not run in 7 weeks, I manage quite easily.   So we think we are ready for our hiking trip to Mendocino.

Waikiki Beach and Honolulu from Diamond Head peak

A dip in the Pacific

Despite all our time on or near beaches in Australia, we had yet to fully immerse ourselves in the Pacific.  While I am fine with that, Ralph feels the trip will not be complete without full immersion.  So, after our hike, we don our bathing suits and wander down to Waikiki Beach.

Ralph and Cathy at the peak of Diamond Head

The original plan is to rent an umbrella and chairs, but when we get there, we are hard pressed to find an available square inch of beach to set up, so we decide just to walk instead.  At the far end of the beach, there is a cement barrier where I sit, guarding our knapsacks while Ralph dives into the warm Pacific ocean and splashes like a little kid.   Next time we come, he says he’s learning to surf.

Ralph after his dip with Diamond Head in the background

Final dinner on the Verandah

The food during our stay in Waikiki generally hovers somewhere between adequate and yucky.  Although Hawaiian cuisine is coming into its own, it is still the land of the fast food chain restaurants and burgers and fries.  Because I’ve been having more than my share of severe digestive complaints in the last few weeks, we agree that a Luau for me would be tantamount to suicide, so decide to forego that Island adventure till our next trip to Hawaii – Yes we definitely want to return.

Cathy on Waikiki Beach at sunset

So on the last night, we decide to treat ourselves to a high-end meal on the Verandah of the Moana Surfrider – the early 1900’s hotel we visited on our first night – and a sunset walk on the beach.  We are seated at a lovely spot on the verandah overlooking the ocean and enjoy some delicious Hawaiian Opa (a firm white fish) with fingerling potatoes, roasted brocollini topped with a crab, tomato and mozzarella salad.   It is very rich and the chef was a little more generous with the butter than I would have liked, but yummy, nevertheless.  We pair this with some fine house-made sparkling water in recognition of the fact that we need to depart the hotel by 4:00 a.m. the next morning.

The big view of Waikiki Beach and Honolulu from Diamond Head peak

As we get to the beach, a plump fiery red sun is settling on the horizon at a shocking speed.  In fact, I miss most of it posing for the photo that Ralph can’t quite get.  Then, shoes in hand and heavy hearts, we stroll along the cool sand and say our final good-bye to Oahu. We fly out to San Francisco at 7:00 AM on Monday morning.

Pearl Harbour

Cathy in front of the "Tree of Life" Monument at the Pearl Harbour Visitor Center

Saturday morning, we get up at 6:30 to get an early start on our tour of Pearl Harbor.  We’ve heard that this exhibit and, in particular, the Arizona Memorial is a must see while visiting Oahu.  Carrie and Frank have told us to spend the $7.50 on the audio tour narrated by Jamie Lee Curtis.  This turns out to be great advice.

One of the anchors recovered from the USS Arizona

We arrive at the Pearl Harbor Visitor’s Center approximately 90 minutes before our scheduled tour of the USS Arizona Memorial.  It turns out that the waiting time is well spent touring the two free museums on site called the Road to War Museum and the Attack Museum.  These museums, in conjunction with the audio tour, give us a really good grounding in the circumstances leading up to the attack and the attack itself.  Ralph and I are surprised to learn that over 2,400 souls were lost that day.

The Arizona Memorial on the right and the USS Missouri on the left as we approach on the tour boat

The attack on Pearl Harbor not only represented the American entrance into World War II, it also represented the introduction of a new kind of warfare – the end of the battleship era and the beginning of the dominance of the aircraft carrier.  The tour somehow managed to honour two very contradictory things – the horror of that day and the tragic loss of life and the success of the Japanese in both the surprise attack and the use of a type of warfare that was till that time largely untested.

View of the Arizona smokestack from the memorial

The U.S.S. Arizona Memorial

We begin our tour of the Arizona Memorial with a 23-minute video including actual footage of the attack.  On December 7, 1941, the Japanese, in two separate attacks within about 30 minutes of one another crippled the U.S. Pacific Fleet damaging all eight battleships in the harbour and sinking four. The greatest loss of life was on the USS Arizona when the Japanese successfully hit its munitions stores and the vessel exploded and sunk.  1,177 crewmen were killed that day.

View of the USS Missouri from the Arizona Memorial with parts of the bow of the Arizona protruding above the water

The sunken battleship still lies at the bottom of Pearl Harbour.  The memorial itself is a white bridge-like structure that spans the width of the vessel where it is preserved as it sank.  You reach the memorial by boat and from its side, you can see the Arizona in the water quite clearly.  What is particularly haunting is that many of the bodies were never recovered and are still entombed within the hull of the vessel to this day.

Part of the list of entombed men on display at the Arizona Memorial

As you walk along the memorial, the audio guide points out and explains the pieces of the vessel still sticking up out of the water and it tells the story of the Arizona through the voices of some of its surviving crew members who were onboard during the attack.  It is a moving tribute.

Cathy at the entrance to the USS Missouri display

U.S.S. Missouri (aka Mighty Mo)

Also in Pearl Harbor sits the U.S.S. Missouri, the last of the U.S. Battleships.  The Missouri was commissioned in 1945, so she was not present during the bombing of Pearl Harbor.  It is fitting that we end our tour of Pearl Harbor with the Missouri, because it was on her deck, while she was moored in Tokyo Harbour, that the Japanese and the Allied Forces signed the document of surrender effectively ending World War II in the Pacific.

View of the main guns from the deck of the Missouri

Ralph is interested in the mechanics and the weapons systems.  I am interested in the human experience that played out on the ship.  There is more than enough to keep both of us engaged.  From the fact that it took 100 men to load and fire a single round from each of the main guns, to the fact that there is an error in the Japanese copy of the document of surrender because CANADIAN Colonel Lawrence Cosgrave accidentally signed on the wrong line.  This caused an embarrassing chain of signature snaffoos ending in the New Zealand Commander having no place to sign when it became his turn. Oooops.

Plaque commemorating the location on the deck where the WWII Pacific Surrender Document was signed

Our total time at Pearl Harbour is about five hours and is well worth the time.

Cathy with our tour guide, Bill on the deck of the Missouri

View forward from the bridge of the Missouri

Golf History is Made… Almost

This is an update for our golfing friends, so if you don’t like golf or find it boring, this might be a good post to skip.

Beach view heading out from the club house to # 1 Tee

Turtle Bay Resort and Golf Club

On Friday, March 23 (still trying to catch up on our Hawaii activities) Ralph and I head to the North Coast for some golf at the Arnold Palmer course at Turtle Bay Resort.  Ralph’s pulmonary specialist – surfer dude Dr. Nolan – suggested we not leave Oahu without seeing the North Coast which is famous for its surf and scenery.

Cathy on # 5 Green with the wind in her hair. It was difficult to keep a hat on in the breeze.

I’m a little nervous about playing this course, because the literature keeps talking about how challenging it is.  However, they assure us that with five tees, even at my 28 handicap, I should be fine.  As it turns out, I have the best round I’ve had in two years.  The fairways are very tricky with lots of water and numerous fairway and green side bunkers, but they are short with most par fours under 300 yards from the red tees.

View back from the green on # 8

While I continue to struggle with my driver, for some reason, my short game suddenly comes alive and I’m getting on the green consistently from 100 yards in and sinking 6 to 8 foot putts like they are three footers.  Ralph, on the other hand, is finding the precision required at his length, challenging and is hitting more than his share of bunkers and water hazards.  (He wants me to tell his golfing buddies that he played from the yellow tees, which are longer than the whites; the wind was definitely a factor and the slope was 133 – excuses, excuses.) As we walk off of 17, I am leading him by one stroke – a feat yet unheard of in our history of golfing together.  (Ralph usually beats me by 10 to 15 strokes a round and I have never beaten him).

View from the par 3 # 15 Tee

She approaches the 400 yard par five with a one shot lead

I try not to think about this as we approach the par five 18, nor do I try to think about the fact that unless I blow up on this hole, I will easily break 100.  My drive is just okay.  I get under the ball a little so it does not go far but it lands in the middle of the fairway.  From there, a solid three-wood gets me well up the fairway.   (That’s two.)  I am still about 200 yards out so I hit another three-wood, but this one goes left and lands perilously close to the water beside Ralph’s second shot about 130 yards out. (That’s three strokes.)

# 17 fairway. All you can see are bunkers from the middle of the fairway. The pin is just visible in the back middle of the picture.

Ralph hits his third shot and is on the green in regulation.  I decide to go for the green with my four-iron.   My ball goes off the toe and plops into the water on the right (that’s four, plus one stroke penalty for five).  I consider my next shot.  It’s about 60 yards over water to the green.  If I hit it too long, I’ll roll off the green and add another stroke; not long enough and I won’t clear the water.  I’m unsure.

View of the beach from # 17 Green

I call to Ralph – “What do you think – sand wedge or pitching wedge?”  “I don’t know,” he says.  “It’s doable with a sand wedge but I think I’d go pitching wedge.”  I consider this for a moment (and here, folks, is my fatal error).  Wanting to be close to the pin instead of just safe, I decide to ignore Ralph’s advice and I choose my sand wedge.  It is a more reliable club for me usually and my eye is telling me I should be able to make it, no problem.)

Cathy making her final put on # 18

I take the club back and hit the ground just before I hit the ball popping it up high.  It looks like it is going to just make it over, then it hits a rock on the other side and bounces back into the water.  Crap!!!  That’s six, another penalty shot is seven.  This time I take out my pitching wedge and hit a beautiful shot over the water and onto the green about 12 feet from the pin for eight.  Disheartened, I trundle up to the green, trying not to think about how I had just snatched defeat from the jaws of victory.  Ralph gets in the hole in two for his par and then I sink the 12 foot putt to save a NINE!!!!

The heartbreaking result – Cathy 100; Ralph 97.

Turtle Bay Resort bar, pool and surf

I shake off defeat.  Ralph seems genuinely disappointed for me and tries to placate me by reinforcing that it was still my best round for the trip by several strokes, which is true.  Just as we drive off the course, it begins to pour.  One of these Hawaiian downpours that lasts about 10 minutes before the sun comes out again.

Sunset on Sunset Beach on the north shore of Oahu

Sunset on the North Coast

Before we leave, we decide to take a drive up to the actual resort to take a look around.  It is an impressive facility – a fairly large hotel surrounded by a number of ground level luxury condos – on a spit of land surrounded by stunning ocean views.  We take some photos and take a sunset drive along the North Coast.  The narrow road is lined with cars and trucks that have transported surfers and beachcombers alike to the long string of coastal beaches.  It is a cool, windy day so the surf is up.  We stop at Sunset Beach for some photos and to watch the last of the surfers come in before it gets dark.

Sunset Beach looking east, away from the sunset

From there it is off to a Mexican seafood restaurant in the center of Haleiwa for dinner before we get back on the highway to Waikiki.

Sunset surf on Sunset Beach

Aloha, Oahu!

We arrive in Honolulu on the island of Oahu on Wednesday, March 21, after a nine and a half hour flight, approximately 11 hours BEFORE we departed Sydney.  This dateline crossing is the closest thing to time travel I’ll ever get.  It’s a great feeling getting a do-over on a day.  The unfortunate thing, however, is that we are so bagged by the red-eye flight that we have to sleep off part of the second Wednesday.  We arrive in the middle of one of Hawaii’s signature sun showers, which the flight attendant calls liquid sunshine.  It lasts about five minutes.

Waikiki Beach with surf board rentals and outrigger canoe

Waikiki

Waikiki is a typical American commercial tourist mecca.  Think Cavendish Beach with sky scrapers and much better weather – long beach lined with hotel towers, shops, restaurants and cafes and teeming with people.  On a sunny day, the beach is awash with umbrellas and lounge chairs and there is not an inch of unoccupied sand for about a kilometer. While our hotel, the Miramar, is underwhelming, it is well located adjacent to the International Marketplace, an outdoor mall packed with trinkets and t-shirts and just a couple of blocks from the beach.

More Waikiki Beach with catamaran

After our nap and a shower, we have about 30 minutes before we are meeting friends for dinner and Ralph is eager to see the statue of Duke Kahanamoku on Waikiki Beach.  “The Duke” was born in 1890 and  is a full-blooded Hawaiian from Waikiki.  He was an Olympic medalist and is considered the father of International Surfing.  Ralph thinks he learned about him from the first Hawaii Five O, which, I learn, is where all of Ralph’s Hawaiian cultural knowledge originates.

Cathy and Ralph at the Duke Kahanamoku Statue on Waikiki Beach

Meet Carrie and Frank

We are blessed with another happy coincidence on our trip.  My dear friend, Carrie Radovich happens to be vacationing in Waikiki with her husband, Frank while we are there and we’ve arranged to meet them for dinner.  I first met Carrie almost eight years ago during my leadership development training in California.  She is one of a handful of classmates that I’ve stayed in touch with over the years.  Carrie and Frank live in Petaluma, north of San Francisco.  Carrie is a leadership coach and trainer in California, whose practice is quite similar to mine – with a mix of corporate groups and individual clients.  Frank, a native of Ireland, is a musician and entrepreneur.  I met Frank once for about five minutes on one of my sojourns to California, so I am excited to get a chance to spend some quality time with them both.

Ralph, Carrie, Frank and Cathy at the Westin Moana Surfrider Beach Bar

They recommend a bar on the beach where they’ve been meeting for drinks at the end of a day of touring.  They’ve checked out the menu and text us that they’ve snagged a great table on the beach positioned for a wonderful view of Waikiki’s sunset.  We find them at the Beach Bar and Grill at the Westin Moana Surfrider Hotel, which, built in 1901, was the first resort hotel in Waikiki and is often called “The First Lady of Waikiki”.

Westin Moana Surfrider Hotel from the street side

It is a stately, old world colonial building set back from the street.  It has several large palm trees shading a verandah on the front and when you go through the lobby to the back, you see that the hotel appears to have been built around a massive banyan tree.  Another verandah graces the back and below it is the beach bar where our friends are waiting.

Westin Moana Surfrider Beach Bar and Grill with the banyan tree front and center

As is always the case with Carrie, it is as if no time has passed since we were last together.  We are instantly comfortable and Frank is warm and friendly.  Our conversation wanders effortlessly from music, to travels, to Frank’s work, to family, to shared memories.

Historic Honolulu

Ralph in front of the King Kamehameha Statue and the Hawaiian Supreme Court Building

Ralph is looking for the full Hawaii Five O experience, so on Thursday we head to historic Honolulu so Ralph ‘McGerritt’ Jacob can have his picture taken in front of the Hawaiian Supreme Court Building and the statue of King Kamehameha.  As we spy the statue and walk toward it, we both spontaneously begin to hum the Hawaii Five O theme song.

Iolani Palace, the official residence of the Hawaiian Kingdom's last two monarchs

This is where our self-guided walking tour begins which takes us to several historic buildings including the ʻIolani Palace, the official residence of the Hawaiian Kingdom’s last two monarchs and Aliʻiolani Hale, home to Hawaii’s Supreme Court.  We finish our self guided tour at the Hawaiian State Art Museum.  In addition, to some interesting paintings and sculptures by both native Hawaiians and mainland artists, the gallery has a wing at the back dedicated to award-winning work of local high school students.  The quality of this work, from painting, drawing, sculpture and photography is amazingly good and the work itself is riveting – Ralph has to tear me away and I still haven’t seen all of it.

Hawaiian State Art Museum

When our tour is over, we go back to our room to relax and get ready to meet Frank and Carrie again – this time at the second oldest hotel in Hawaii, a large 1920s pink pelican of a building – the Royal Hawaiian.  Their bar menu is not as extensive as the one the night before, but between the shared appies and wonderful salad, it is delicious.

Sunset on Waikiki Beach

On Friday, Carrie and Frank are leaving Waikiki for the North Coast, so we say good-bye for now and promise to try and make it to Lefty O’Doul’s in San Francisco to see Frank perform when we are there.